With Kronos' command, Medea turned and left, ignoring the other Titans and leaving the main throne room, walking towards a side chamber where a group of lieutenants were waiting. These individuals were too useful to be cannon fodder in the army, so they were elevated above the rest, serving as the enforcers of the Titans, powerful rogue demigods whose parents still haven't claimed them, and monsters who were tribe leaders, able to command their own kind.
Their eyes glittered in the dim light, eager and hungry for battle. When Medea stepped into the chamber, all eyes locked onto her, awaiting their mission.
Medea let the silence hang, bathing in the authority before giving them their mission. "Lord Kronos has given his order," she said, voice smooth as silk. "The mortal, Steven Thorne, must be found. And when he is found...he is to be killed. Spread the word, gather your tribes, Kronos demands the mortal's head, and no matter who stands between us, we will bring it to him."
Her words were met with bloodthirsty grins and roars of joy about the upcoming killing. Not only do they have the opportunity to prove themselves to Kronos, but they can also indulge in bloodshed. Seeing the reactions of the gathered, Medea turned, her dress sweeping behind her as she walked away, with a small disdainful smile.
With that as a signal, the lieutenants dispersed into the shadows, leaving the chamber. Some went to gather allies, while others, confident in their own abilities, immediately started the hunt.
...
Back in the throne hall, the Titans watched as Medea departed to fulfill Kronos' orders.
"That witch was once a priestess of Hecate," Iapetus spoke after seeing Medea leave the chamber. "Can they be trusted?"
Koios' glacier-cold eyes flickered. "Of course not, but her power has its uses. With her, we can destroy Olympus wards and have someone who could counter Hecate should she engage in battle."
Hyperion scoffed, hand twitching toward the hilt of his sword. "You are too confident, she reeks of schemes, better to kill her now."
Krios did not speak, but his helm tilted slightly, a silent agreement.
Kronos listened, letting their discontent twist in the air. He found it almost pleasing. Still, he leaned forward, his voice cutting through their grumbling.
"As Koios said, she has her uses. For now, let her live, but when she is no longer needed, then she can be discarded."
The Titans fell silent, no longer arguing over Medea as Kronos gave his decree.
"There is something that needs to be told, but there are too many ears here," Oceanus spoke up, hinting at Kronos.
Wondering what words could warrant such caution, Kronos ordered the lesser titans and surrounding monsters to leave. Although the Titans had all been talking among themselves so that even they couldn't hear what was said, Oceanus believed it was better to be safe.
Once the Throne Room was empty, save for the Titans, they all turned to Oceanus, expectant of what information needed them to be alone, especially since they saw the disgust in their elder brother's eyes.
"The Giants are stirring."
A single sentence.
While it may be a small pocket of information, it angered all the Titans, even Oceanus, as cowardly as he is, detested this branch of siblings. All of them were children of Gaia, but while the Titans were born of Ouranos, the Giants were born of Ouranos' blood that fell into Tartarus and combined with Tartarus' essence, so while they were loyal to their mother, they never saw each other as family.
The Giants were born specifically to counter Olympus, to usurp the domains the gods ruled. Which meant they were born after the fall of the Titans, making them a reminder of their failure, and now both groups were always in conflict over who Gaia would allow to dominate the world.
The hall erupted in low growls and curses. Hyperion's armor blazed brighter in anger. The air around Koios grew colder, and even Krios raised his head, a low rasp escaping him as he clenched his fists.
Kronos sneered, disdain and contempt clear on his face when he thought of the giants. He never believed them to be equals, for the Titans managed to kill their father, slaying a Primordial, and had ruled the earth, accomplishments that the Giants never achieved, showing the power of the Titans.
"Let them rise, they will only be fit to serve us," Kronos said, his voice echoing like a bell of doom. "When they finally turn their gaze towards the west, we would have already destroyed Olympus, and Mother would have crowned us the rulers once more."
...
After discussions of the future of the Titans, the hall emptied, leaving Kronos alone on the throne; his scythe lay across his knees, its edge glowing faintly in the firelight.
He was waiting.
In the silence, the chamber shuddered, cracks split the marble, and vines erupted, curling up the black columns, and flowers bloomed along the ground, bringing a refreshing air to the stillness of the chamber, making the space less like a mausoleum.
A voice rose, soft yet vast, ancient.
"Kronos…"
His eyes narrowed, though he inclined his head. "Mother."
Even when suppressed, Gaia's presence filled the hall, unseen yet suffocating, like a mountain settling on his shoulders. Her tone was neither warm nor cold, lacking the familial warmth a mother should have felt for her resurrected son.
"Your return sparks the bringing of chaos, but beware, in that chaos, a new variable may appear. A Primordial."
Kronos' grip on the scythe tightened. "What do you mean? Is it Nyx interfering or has Pontus awakened?"
"The Fool," Gaia whispered, her voice reverberating from everywhere in the chamber. "He awakened not long ago, but we have not sensed his presence since. He is as old as Chaos, I do not know of his strength nor what will drive him."
For a long moment, Kronos said nothing. Then he laughed, the sound low and grating, echoing against the vast hall. "If this Fool seeks to interfere in my conquest, then let him come. I am Kronos, Lord of Time. I fear no one."
But as Gaia's presence withdrew, Kronos' laughter thinned. His golden eyes burned, yet behind them flickered the faintest unease.
Looking at the surroundings that had been destroyed, the vegetation that had damaged his throne room, Kronos waved his hand, the vines and flowers returning to the cracks where they grew from. Then the cracks themselves healed over, returning to pristine condition.
"The Fool..." Kronos muttered.