Zeus, the thunder-bearing king, sat upon his throne of stormclouds, his gaze grim. His hand clenched the Master Bolt, sparks dancing between his fingers. His brothers, Hades cloaked in shadows and Poseidon's throne conspicuously empty, flanked him. The absence was more telling than words.
"This cannot be ignored," Hera's voice rang, smooth but sharp as steel. Her golden diadem glimmered, yet her expression betrayed disdain. "The seas tremble in ways unseen for centuries. Mortals whisper of waves that speak, tides that pulse like a heartbeat. This is no mere whim of Poseidon. Something has awakened within him."
Athena's grey eyes narrowed. She leaned forward, her spear resting against her throne. "I have studied the signs. This is not simply Poseidon's power—it is older. A resonance buried beneath the waves, now stirring through him. If this entity festers unchecked, Olympus itself may face a rival."
