Every dune shook. Every grain of sand hissed from the weight of powers clashing above it. The gods tore the horizon into a battlefield no mortal tongue could ever describe.
At the center stood Zeus, his storm flaring brighter than ever, his chest streaked with blood, his knuckles raw but steady. Around him loomed the Egyptian Primordials—the first breaths of this land, the bones that held its sky. Shu's winds roared, Nut's stars spread wide, Tefnut's waters boiled, and Geb's mountain-body bent the very earth beneath them. Ra hovered like a burning crown above it all, his staff glowing like a second sun.
Zeus inhaled, lightning rattling in his lungs. He clenched his fists, sparks dripping onto the glassed sand. He was outnumbered, outflanked, but not alone.
