The Garden of Olympus stretched wide beneath the endless sky—a lush mosaic of emerald leaves and silver boughs, fountains carved from living marble that sang with eternal waters, and blossoms radiant as stars, their light rivaling the constellations. The air was thick with ambrosia and nectar, but beneath its sweetness lingered something bitter, something restless, as though even Olympus itself strained under a hidden weight.
Beneath the protective shade of a towering laurel, three goddesses stood apart from the others—Hera, Demeter, and Hestia—drawn together in quiet conspiracy. Their voices were low, sharp with unease, like threads fraying in silence.
Hera's brows were drawn as tight as a storm cloud, her reflection wavering in the still pool of a fountain. The water was unmoving, unnatural—like it too held its breath.
"It's happening again," she said, her voice cold and clipped. "Zeus went too far at the council yesterday. To punish Prometheus—our kin—for gifting humanity a spark of the eternal flame? That was no judgment. That was tyranny."
Demeter's green eyes shadowed with memory, her jaw tense. "He wanted to chain him in Tartarus. Torture him for eternity. For what? For lifting man out of darkness? For daring to defy his thunder?" She spat the last word as though it burned her tongue. "Zeus calls it treason. I call it fear."
Hestia's hands trembled slightly as she clasped them before her hearth-red robes. "Fear of what?"
Hera's eyes narrowed. "Of being outshone."
A long silence passed, heavy as stone.
Hestia finally broke it, her voice soft yet edged with fire. "We all voted. We chose Zeus. But deep down… none of us believed he deserved the crown. Not then. And certainly not now."
Hera's lips pressed into a thin, hard line. "Hades proved himself a hundred times over. His fairness, his patience, his wisdom. He is steady where Zeus is reckless. Yet we cast our votes for the thunderbolt. We chose the flash of lightning over the steady hand of judgment."
Demeter's shoulders sank, regret woven into every syllable. "And why? Because he rules what none of us wish to face—death, shadow, silence? Because mortals whisper his name with dread instead of song? That is not unfit. That is strength."
Hestia's voice dropped, barely above a whisper. "Then why did you vote for Zeus?"
The question hung between them like a blade. Neither Hera nor Demeter met her gaze.
Hera was the first to speak, her tone taut, reluctant. "We felt… something. Not words, not thunder. A pull. A presence. Like a hand pressed against the back of our minds, guiding us. It told us this was how it should be. That Zeus was meant to reign."
Demeter nodded slowly, fingers tracing patterns in the air. "It was so subtle, I thought it was my own thought. Only when Hera spoke of it later did I realize it was not mine at all. Even now, the memory chills me."
Hera exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. "Hate to say it, but Zeus is no king. He is a usurper clinging to a throne, caring for nothing but his own pride. And why? Because he believes he was chosen to lead us against Father."
Her eyes flicked to the horizon, where storm clouds gathered unnaturally fast, the air heavy with the taste of lightning.
"But I'll tell you this—" Hera's voice hardened to steel. "The day is coming when that throne will slip from his grasp. And when it does, not even Olympus will mourn him."
The statement hung heavy in the fragrant air of the Garden. Suddenly, the water fountain before them roiled violently, the surface trembling like a disturbed sea. The ripples grew into turbulent waves, swelling higher and higher, until with a deafening crash, a monstrous figure burst forth.
His towering form was a grotesque fusion of humanoid and crustacean, clad in a jagged, cobalt-blue exoskeleton mottled with molten orange scars. Massive, serrated pincers—red as fresh blood and riddled with battle-worn cracks—hung from his muscular arms, each capable of crushing stone or tearing ships apart. His segmented shell gleamed with a sinister luster, every ridge and plate marked by deep grooves and barnacle-like growths.
Twin eyestalks flicked and swiveled atop his grotesque head, their pale white eyes glowing with a cold, merciless intelligence. Long, whip-like antennae arced forward, sensing the air like weapons poised for strike.
The ground trembled beneath the lobster's heavy, clawed feet as he stepped forward, the faint scent of brine and decay trailing in his wake.
Hera's eyes narrowed to sharp slits, her hand instinctively tightening around the hilt of her spear, which hummed with divine power. "Hestia," she commanded with cold authority, "warn Zeus. Now."
Hestia hesitated only a moment before bowing her head and vanishing in a blaze of ethereal flames.
Demeter stepped forward, voice steady and commanding. "What purpose brings you to Olympus? Speak, or face the wrath of the gods."
The demon's pincers clicked ominously as he responded, voice deep and gravelly, resonant with the roar of the ocean depths.
"Greetings, goddesses of Olympus. I am Korkkinos, son of the mighty Karakinos! I come bearing the will of Lord Neptune, the mighty god of the trench and chosen of Lord Typhon. I bring a warning—and decree."
Hera's spear pulsed with celestial light as she advanced. "Speak swiftly, or insolence will cost you dearly."
Korkkinos's eyestalks scanned the surroundings with cruel intent. "In three nights, Neptune's rage will consume the lands. Olympus itself—its gardens, its golden halls—will be swallowed by the tides. All shall bow beneath the Great God of the Deep. His dominion will stretch from the mountain peaks to the ocean's darkest trenches."
Without hesitation, Hera lunged, spear blazing with divine fire, aiming a lethal strike at Korkkinos's armored chest. The spear clanged against his shell, sparks flying, but failed to pierce.
Hera's voice was sharp. "Its shell is harder than I imagined. We must think quickly."
The moment the water fountain's surface rippled violently, and Korkkinos knew now that he passed the message that he had to return to the water fountain so that he could be summoned by Lord Neptune's will.
Hera's eyes narrowed sharply, and Demeter's hands clenched the hem of her robe, sensing the threat. Together, the sisters stepped forward to block the demon's path.
"Not so fast, creature," Hera said coldly, her voice ringing with authority. "You will not escape Olympus today."
Demeter's gaze flicked to the ground beneath Korkkinos' claws. Slowly, deliberately, she stretched out her hands and the soil trembled beneath the demon's feet as thick roots erupted, twisting around his limbs with a furious strength to keep him from the fountain as more roots and vines covered the fountain in a thick rooted dome.
Korkkinos bared his jagged teeth in a grinding rasp that sounded like wood creaking and stone scraping. "You think the fountain was my only escape?" he hissed, claws snapping wildly, tearing at the vines.
With a terrifying burst of strength, he shattered the bonds — but Hera and Demeter did not falter. The chase was on.
Korkkinos tore through the marble halls of Olympus, his heavy pincers pounding against the ground. Statues toppled, crystal chandeliers shattered, and frightened nymphs scattered in his wake. Hera's spear gleamed in her grip as she darted after him, Demeter's hands glowing with verdant energy, calling forth barriers of brambles and roots.
The demon crashed through the palace gates and raced down the mountain's steep slopes. He surged through the dense forests, uprooting trees and sending flocks of startled birds screaming into the sky. Branches clawed at his shell, but his monstrous form was relentless, unstoppable.
Ahead, the ocean gleamed under the afternoon sun, waves crashing against a rugged shoreline. Freedom was close.
But Demeter moved as the earth responded once more. From the sand and soil, a towering wall of twisting plants and thick vines erupted, rising like a living fortress between Korkkinos and the sea.
Korkkinos skidded to a halt, his heavy claws scraping the rocky shore. Salty sea spray clung to his cobalt shell. He hissed, breath coming in ragged bursts. "You fools think this can hold me?"
His eyes gleamed fiercely, and then, with a cruel, grinding laugh that sounded like boulders scraping together, he snarled, "You insolent whelps! I was born of chaos itself — personally forged by Typhon, the Storm King, to stand as equal to any Olympian god!"
The earth trembled slightly under his words, as if his power echoed through the land.
Hera stepped forward, her broken spear shattered at her feet, fragments glinting like fallen stars in the sun. Her eyes flamed with cold fire as she drew deep on her divine essence.
Gone was the mere goddess of marriage and queenship; now she invoked the darker arts that marked her as a divine enchantress and wielder of potent curses and blessings. Her voice dropped to an ancient, melodic incantation — syllables older than Olympus itself.
Around her, the air shimmered with threads of iridescent magic, weaving a net of power aimed directly at the demon's mind and body. Shadows of curses slithered like serpents, seeking to bind his movements, slow his reflexes, and cloud his thoughts.
At the same time, radiant blessings surged toward Demeter, sharpening her senses and filling her with unyielding strength and speed.
"The mind is as vulnerable as the body," Hera whispered sharply, eyes locked on Korkkinos. "I will shatter his focus. You strike fast, sister. Strike true."
Demeter responded instantly, her hands flourishing like the earth itself made flesh. Vines sprouted, twisting into razor-sharp whips and thorned shields, weaving and reweaving faster than the eye could follow.
With grace born of the soil, she darted forward, vines lashing out to bind the demon's limbs, roots twisting around his pincers like iron chains.
Korkkinos snarled, snapping claws with a force that could crack marble. Each blow shattered stone and tore through the earth beneath them. His cobalt shell deflected most attacks, the armor shimmering faintly with ancient magic granted by Typhon's forging.
But the combined magic of Hera and Demeter began to sap his momentum. The vines constricted tighter, the curses gnawed at his reflexes.
He roared in fury, then lunged — a devastating swipe aimed at Demeter's head. She barely twisted aside, parrying with a shield of thorny branches. The impact shook the ground, sending splinters flying.
Hera moved then, unseen as a shadow. From her fingertips spilled threads of divine energy, lashing out to wrap around the demon's limbs, twisting and tightening like living chains of dark light.
"Your strength is great," Hera hissed, voice like a whip crack, "but your mind is weaker than you think."
Korkkinos shook violently, claws thrashing in desperation. With a sudden, violent surge, he shattered Hera's magical chains, sending shards of shimmering energy scattering across the sand.
But the effort left him open — and Demeter struck. Vines coiled around one claw, yanking hard with the power of earth's unrelenting grasp.
The lobster demon howled in rage and pain but did not relent. "I am the storm incarnate! Typhon's own hand shaped me to stand with gods — and I will drown Olympus beneath the waves!"
Hera's eyes burned brighter. She called upon the sacred rites of binding and betrayal — the curses of broken oaths and shattered trusts, weaving them tightly around the demon's mind.
Demeter answered by tearing more roots from the earth, weaving a net that shimmered with raw power. Together, the sisters pushed the tide of battle back inch by inch.
Yet, even as Korkkinos faltered, his voice thundered across the shore like a prophecy of doom.
"Soon… my lord will rise… and Olympus will crumble beneath his wrath!"
Suddenly, Hades emerged from the beast's shadow, his eyes flashed as he gripped his bident, as he spun it quickly and with a devastating, fluid motion, he lunged forward, driving the bident through the thick, armored exoskeleton of the demon. The piercing weapon shattered shell and sinew alike, sinking deep into the creature's chest with a guttural crack.
The beast howled in pain, pincers thrashing wildly, but before it could recover, the sky above darkened with a sudden, electric fury.
A blinding flash of lightning tore through the clouds, and Zeus appeared, his form crackling with raw storm energy. With a swift, twisting motion, he seized the struggling crustacean, his grip like iron.
The air filled with a high-pitched crackle as Zeus raised his hand. A colossal bolt of pure electricity tore down from the heavens, striking the demon directly.
The monstrous lobster screamed, a horrid, sizzling sound echoing across the shoreline as its body convulsed violently. The electric surge coursed through its veins and armor, boiling its entire form alive — shell steaming, muscles cooking, claws curling in a final, futile snarl.
Within moments, the beast's thrashing slowed, then ceased entirely, smoke rising from its blackened carapace.
Hades withdrew his bident, dark tendrils of shadow flickering across the broken shell.
The smell of scorched brine clung to the air, mingling with the faint sweetness that came when divine power burned a creature down to its essence. The waves lapped lazily at the beach now, as if the sea itself had been stunned into silence.
Zeus landed beside him in a crackle of lightning, golden eyes scanning the ruined lobster demon. A faint smirk tugged at his mouth as he planted his spear into the sand.
"That's one less monster Typhon will throw at us," Zeus said, though his voice carried more self-satisfaction than tactical relief.
"Not exactly one of his bigger threats," Hades replied, voice low, almost bored. "If this was meant to be an opening act, I'm more concerned about what's next."
Hera, still gripping the remains of her shattered spear, stepped forward, her expression composed but sharp. "What's next," she said, "is that we take this seriously. A general doesn't come into Olympus just to die on our shores without a reason. That thing was delivering a message."
"It did," Demeter reminded them, wiping blood and salt from the edge of her scythe. "Three nights, and the Great God of the Deep will flood Olympus."
Zeus's smirk faded. His eyes met Hades's for a fraction of a second—long enough for Hades to see calculation there.
"Then we have no time to waste," Zeus said. "Back to Olympus. We're calling a council."
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Zeus leaned forward in his chair, lightning still humming faintly from his armor. "We all know why we're here. Typhon has taken Neptune—whether by corruption, coercion, or both—and is moving to strike at us. We need to decide if we're preparing for war, or if there's any point in trying to… salvage our brother."
Hades drummed his fingers once against the table before speaking. "I should mention—he visited me earlier."
Four pairs of eyes fixed on him.
"In the flesh?" Hera asked.
"Or what's left of it," Hades said. "Gray skin, black veins, eyes like storms bleeding into night. Coral spikes, fins, and a trident bound in writhing tendrils. He came to my hall tracking seawater across the floor and asked me to join him—under Typhon's banner."
"That's… bold," Demeter muttered.
"He also said," Hades continued, "that I'd regret refusing him. So, no, I don't think diplomacy is on the table."
Zeus let out a derisive snort. "You didn't consider it? Even for a moment?"
Hades's gaze snapped to him, the faintest twitch curling in his fingers where they rested on the table. "Do you really think I'd side with the Father of Monsters, after what we've all been through? Or are you just trying to be insulting for sport?"
Zeus's smirk was infuriatingly casual. "I'm just making sure your loyalties are exactly where you claim."
Hera's eyes narrowed. "Enough. We don't have the luxury of bickering."
Hestia, who had been silent until now, spoke in her calm, warm voice. "If there's even a chance we can free Neptune from Typhon's control, we should consider it. But we must prepare as though he's coming to kill us. That way, if the worst happens, we aren't caught off guard."
Zeus nodded. "Agreed. Which brings us to forces. We need to build up an actual army to protect Olympus."
"With the recent deaths of the mortals," Hades said, leaning back in his seat. "I have gained several new souls that I plan on using to build my own army for the Underworld."
Hera looked intrigued. "How many?"
"Currently a little over several hundreds," Hades said. "They will need to be trained to fight and to use weapons but I will get it done."
Demeter gave a faint smile. "That could turn the tide."
Zeus didn't smile. In fact, his gaze sharpened, the gears turning in his head. Hades knew that look—it was the look Zeus got when he was planning something that he wouldn't share until it was too late for anyone to stop him.
The meeting broke not long after, but as they left, Hades glanced back. Zeus was still seated at the throne, staring right at him.