The throne room of Olympus, a place carved out of eternal marble and bathed in divine radiance, trembled with the voice of a woman's fury.
"Caerus… our son is dead, and yet—you sit there on your throne, unmoved, like the almighty Zeus you think yourself to be?!"
Her voice cracked between grief and rage. Tears clung to her lashes, but her eyes burned with fire as they locked onto the King of the Gods.
Zeus sat upon the central throne, the colossal seat of Olympian Palace. His jaw was hard, his expression grim, and though lightning occasionally crackled faintly around his form, his face betrayed little.
He had just received word of his son Caerus' death. And now, one of his numerous wives—the mother of that fallen child—stood before him, trembling with fury and despair.
"You used his admiration, his love for you, and sent him to his death!" She shouted.
Zeus' eyes narrowed.. "I would never send my son to die. I asked only for information. Nothing more."
