The wind at the top of Olympus didn't bite. It whispered. Soft. Cool. A god's breath. A god's lullaby.
Zeus stood on the balcony alone.
White robes loose around his frame, chest bare, hair tousled by the breeze. He didn't blink. Didn't sigh. Just stood still with that calm weight he always carried in his shoulders. A silence not born of peace… but memory.
He looked out over the realm he built. The white towers. The endless sky. The banners rippling gently along the spires. Everything carved, raised, shaped by hands—his hands. But not always. Not in the beginning.
Not before.
Before all this… he was just a man. A simple one. One with flaws. One with pain. He couldn't even remember the name he had in that life anymore, just fragments. Laughter. Regrets. Cold nights. A woman he never saw again. Then the dream. Or the nightmare. He couldn't tell which.
