The third day arrived not with a sunrise, but with a gathering silence. The armies stood assembled on the terraces of Olympus, a sea of divine and mortal power that stretched as far as the eye could see. At the center of it all, before the sealed grey stone that was the portal, stood Zeus.
He looked older than any of them had ever seen him. The weight of eons and the burden of the coming choice were etched into the lines of his face. He placed a hand on the cool, featureless rock.
"This was never a cage," he said, his voice carrying without effort across the multitude. "It was a lock. And every lock has a key."
He closed his eyes. The air grew heavy, charged with the scent of a coming storm. The faint, starry light he had used to seal the portal now shimmered around his hand once more. But this time, it was not to build, but to unbind.
