Beneath the Garden of the Hesperides, inside a temple ruin, a group of cloaked figures, priests, knelt in rows before an ancient sundial, and on that sundial sat an hourglass. During the priests' prayers, a small mote of light appeared and fell onto the hourglass, causing it to release a bursting, golden glow that lit the dark temple and blinded all the cloaked figures.
As the golden light grew in intensity, multiple figures appeared without notice, watching the hourglass, ignoring the blinding light, and focusing on the final grain of sand that had yet to fall. As they watched, the grain of sand fell, causing the hourglass to fracture, cracks spreading across its surface, the sound echoing through the ruin; finally, the hourglass couldn't endure and shattered, creating a tremor that toppled the priests, throwing them across the ground and causing stalacites to fall from the ceiling, impaling some of them.
The individuals who silently appeared ignored the effects of the hourglass, standing firm, and remained indifferent to the deaths of the cloaked priests. They watched as a storm of sand grew from the remains of the hourglass, swirling in a chaotic whirlwind as chimes rang out from within.
From the storm rose a figure. Tall, almost reaching nine feet tall, gaunt with brutal golden eyes, black curly hair, and an unnerving, long, pointy beard. The storm soon silenced, transforming from raging sand into a scythe, six feet long, the blade curved like a crescent moon, with a thick handle wrapped in leather. When the scythe appeared, the figures, who had remained indifferent to the storm, all took a cautious step back, even if they were all taller than this new man.
The newly formed man took in his form, making sure everything was right before looking out onto the figures who arrived for his birth. His siblings, his family, his army. With his rebirth, it would soon be time for the world to remember his name, and with his revenge, he would once again become ruler of the world.
For he was Kronos. The King of the Titans, the Titan of Time, Evil, and Harvest, and the most powerful child of the primordials, Gaia and Ouranus.
...
Seated on his throne, carved from a single block of black obsidian, encrusted with veins of gold and diamonds, Kronos allowed himself a moment of silence. During his time resurrecting, his subordinates had labored to restore Othrys to its past glory in anticipation of his return, and the work showed.
The black marble pavilion of Mount Othrys stretched endlessly around him, its polished floors gleaming like the surface of a midnight lake. Greek columns lined the vast hall, etched with images of gods and monsters locked in eternal strife. Between them, braziers of Greek fire burned with cold blue flames, their light causing shadows to flicker against the statues of the Elder Titans, making them appear to be alive, their appearance turning from stern grandeur to eerie and horrifying.
Around him gathered his siblings and generals, Kronos' golden eyes tracked them as they approached, measuring them.
First was Iapetus, adorned in gleaming silver armor and standing 10 feet tall, thin and haggard, with wild silver hair and scraggily beard, matched with wild silver eyes. Kronos frowned upon seeing this brother, for he was the softest of all his siblings, lacking the required cruelty of his kind, even as the Titan of mortality and pain. Still, regardless of his personality, he was powerful enough to be one of his lords during his previous reign; his return to his army was a welcome one.
Behind him strode Hyperion, and Kronos' frown softened into the faintest of smiles. Hyperion, one of his most powerful and loyal followers, was similar in appearance to Iapetus, but instead of silver, he was gold, his eyes like miniature suns, and his armor burning like fire in the dark. Unlike his brother, he had a gigantic flaming sword strapped to his back, awaiting any reason to use it. Hyperion had been one of his most loyal enforcers in the first war, a blazing terror on the battlefield. Unlike Iapetus, he lived for the battlefield, brutal and effective, something Kronos valued.
Where Hyperion burned bright, Krios was like a shadow, standing over the other Titans at 11 feet tall, clad in Stygian iron armor, the blackness broken only by small stars that adorned the armor. He wore a helmet, shaped like a ram's head with horns, to shield his face, hiding himself from Kronos's studying gaze. Although his power was great, he was always lost in thought, lacking the brutality of Hyperion, even though they matched in strength. With that helmet, he never knew if this sibling was listening to his words. This had caused him constant frustration in the past.
Then came Koios, 10 feet tall, hair and beard the color of glacial ice, cut short. His face, once handsome, was ragged with scars of past battles from his time serving Kronos. His armor, elaborate black Stygian iron, bore a single blazing diamond at the chest, pulsing faintly with a cold light. His sword was massive, wide, and heavy, carved from the same dark metal, scarred from past battles. His appearance was of great welcome for Kronos, for his abilities of Farsight, Intellect, and Knowledge were of great use for his plans.
And last, to Kronos' surprise, stepped Oceanus. Taller than them all, a full twelve feet of horned, salt-crusted might, his beard and hair flowing green as kelp, with the horns of a bull. Of all the brothers, Oceanus had been the only one not to lift a hand against their father, avoiding the cruelty that defined their kind. Kronos had long considered him a coward, one content to sulk in his endless seas. Yet here he was, awaiting Kronos' command. Perhaps absence had tempered him.
A dozen lesser Titans and monsters lingered silently at the periphery, cowed by the Elder Titans' aura. They stood in silence, watching their king rise again.
Kronos sat back in his throne, the scythe resting across his knees, and studied his court. Unfortunately, his greatest soldier wasn't here, but he had made plans for that, and soon he too shall rejoin them, and with his return, the Titans will once again be ready for war.