The Greek World, Asia Minor Peninsula, Cilician Marshes.
An elegant goddess with golden hair draped over her shoulders and a white veil upon her head walked barefoot across the mist-shrouded land. What set her apart was that her eyes were covered with a black veil, yet she moved with the grace of flowing water, as if the darkness before her did not hinder her at all.
As she drifted deeper into the thick fog, the noise and clamor from Mount Othrys seemed to dissolve into the silence of the marsh. The goddess let out a long breath and paused before a clear, deep pool. The mirror-like water reflected not serenity, but the furrow of unrest gathering at her brow.
Ever since her youngest brother Kronos obeyed the command of the Mother Goddess Gaia and, sickle in hand, castrated their cruel father Uranus, the throne of the God King had passed into his hands. The twelve siblings who joined in that rebellion were no longer suppressed by Uranus' divine authority and gradually awakened their own innate powers.
On Mount Othrys, they rose as the Twelve Titan Gods, ruling over the Greek world in glory and high majesty.
Because Uranus had been castrated, betrayed, and cast into exile, his fury drove him to bestow a new name upon all his descendants born of heaven and earth: "Titan," meaning "rebel." Thus, those who established the new divine realm upon Mount Othrys and secured their dominion over Greece came to be known as the Twelve Titans.
Though betraying their father was hardly a glorious past, there was no doubt that Uranus' forced union of sky and earth had choked the growth and change of the Greek world. The heavens were dark and chaotic, the earth seethed and trembled, fierce ether storms raged between them, and there was scarcely a trace of life to be found.
Only after he was castrated, stripped of divine authority, and banished did heaven and earth part. The raging ether settled, becoming gentle and tame, and began to nurture all things. Meanwhile, the Twelve Titans used their powers to shape and refine the framework of the Greek world step by step.
Under the gods' creation, the chaotic masses became distinct, colored, and filled with vitality. The world flourished and grew beautiful—this was the Golden Age of the Greek gods.
But now, countless centuries had passed since the exile of Uranus.
Too long.
So long that those who once toiled tirelessly to perfect the world's order had turned into revelers wasting their days in wine, women, and brawls upon Mount Othrys. So long that dragon-slayers who once rose against tyranny had themselves become evil dragons, soaring across the sky and forcing all beings to tremble and bow.
Now, among her siblings, few still cared what path lay ahead for Greece.
Yet no star shines in the heavens forever, and no divine authority lasts without end.
What's more, before his banishment, Uranus had hurled a vicious curse upon the Twelve Titans:
"The vast sky god despises all his children.
He said these offspring will only grow twisted and wicked, and one day they will suffer retribution."
According to fate's decree, that "retribution" meant being cast down and replaced by their own descendants. And this family curse would most likely fall upon the second generation of God Kings—Kronos, the so-called filial son who had laid hands upon his father and struck him down.
She had once thought that, under the weight of such a curse, her younger brother the God King might grow vigilant, perhaps rule with a clear mind and steady hand.
But Kronos' chosen countermeasure was to seize each child born to his wife and elder sister Rhea, and swallow them into his belly.
As a result, Rhea, the goddess of time and one of the Twelve Titan Gods, wept day after day, powerless to resist.
By now, the six children she had borne had all been swallowed by Kronos. To keep the curse from coming true, the God King rarely visited Rhea's chambers anymore, neglecting his wife while spending his days in the company of Nymphs.
Thus, at every great assembly on Mount Othrys, Queen Rhea poured out her grief to her siblings, lamenting the cruelty of her husband, Kronos. As for the rest of the younger Titanesses, they were always held back by Rhea, compelled to listen to her sorrow and complaints.
She had known since the day her father fell and her brother laughed that Kronos' hunger for power was immense. But to devour his own children and abandon his wife—such conduct was utterly disgraceful.
Unfortunately, she was indifferent by nature, seldom interacting with her Titan brothers and sisters, and unwilling to meddle in such household matters. So all she could do was listen to Rhea's cries, unable to offer much advice or comfort.
Over the years, every gathering on Mount Othrys had become the same tiresome display: the male Titans flaunting their muscles, boasting of how many water spirits or beautiful demonesses they had conquered. With her sister's sorrowful wailing added to it all, she had grown weary of these gatherings, shunning them whenever she could.
Today, she had slipped away from that stifling atmosphere of Mount Othrys and come to the remote Cilician Marshes to clear her thoughts. Yet even away from the noise, her agitation only grew.
Did that fool Kronos really believe that simply swallowing those children could undo their father's curse?
Back then, it was because their father Uranus mistreated them, despised the noisy Hecatoncheires and Cyclopes born of the Mother Goddess Gaia, suppressed the powers of the Twelve Titans, and finally cast those giants into Tartarus that Gaia's wrath was roused, and he lost his throne as the father of the gods.
And what difference was there between what Kronos was doing now and what their father once did? His so-called countermeasure was nothing but another form of evasion. Once the curse erupted, the outcome would only be more disastrous. Worse, as its power spread, it might drag down all of Mount Othrys with it.
More troubling still, she had lately grown increasingly uneasy. She could faintly sense some hidden change stirring in secret, and once the moment came, it would sweep across the whole of Greece.
Recalling the visions that haunted her—the sky rent apart, the earth quaking, rivers dyed in blood, and Mount Othrys collapsing into ruin—the goddess furrowed her brow, whispering under her breath.
A war of gods.
Perhaps a bloody upheaval was already at hand...
The elegant figure sighed heavily at the water's edge, worry clouding her gaze. Just as she turned to return to her temple and rest a few days, she caught a faint disturbance to the side and instinctively concealed herself.
Two small Nymphs came from a nearby valley, bickering as they walked.
"I was the first to catch this eaglet that fell from its nest, so it's mine!"
"But I saw it first, so it should be mine!"
One claimed the right of catching, the other the right of seeing. Neither would yield, each insisting the eaglet belonged to her.
As the quarrel threatened to break into a fight, the little Nymph who had caught the eaglet seemed to recall something. Her eyes rolled slyly, and with a wrinkled nose she scoffed.
"Then let's go to the depths of the marsh and ask the fair and wise snake to judge whose it is!"
"Fine! Let's go!"
Her unwilling rival snapped back immediately, and the two of them, one leading and one following, vanished angrily into the mist.
A fair and wise snake?
Since when had the Cilician Marshes harbored a rational magical beast?
The goddess, her eyes veiled in black, paused with a strange look.
Then, almost without thinking, she stepped forward and quietly followed after the two Nymphs.