Mount Olympus — Throne Hall
The marble doors flew open like they were kicked by a storm.
Not pushed. Not knocked.
Blown.
The entire palace trembled as a shockwave cracked through the columns, knocking over silver vases and shattering crystal decanters. The guards outside didn't even have time to react. They were on the floor before they saw him.
Ares.
His eyes were wild, glowing crimson, and black cracks pulsed from his neck down to his wrists like veins filled with magma. His armor was only half-buckled, his breathing loud—unnatural. Like something else was breathing with him.
Inside the throne room, Zeus looked up slowly.
He sat on his high seat, flanked by gods from other realms—Thoth from Egypt, Tsukuyomi from Japan, Odin from the north. They had come to speak of balance between pantheons.
Now they watched the God of War storm the sacred floor like a beast off its leash.
"Ares?" Zeus's voice was calm, but sharp. "What is the meaning of this?"
Ares didn't answer.
