A few days later, in front of the Waterside Treehouse.
A group of nymphs gathered in the courtyard with their heads hanging low, looking rather dispirited.
"Still haven't found him?"
Themis, seated on a wicker chair, set aside her manuscript and spoke in a calm tone.
Daphne, who had become the leader of the nearby nymphs, fluttered her transparent wings as she stepped forward. She shook her little head helplessly and muttered with frustration.
"I clearly remember Samael being lazy. He usually doesn't even go out."
"But this time, I don't know what happened. We haven't seen him or Sister Tina for ages."
"And it's not just his home. I even searched all the places he usually goes, but there wasn't a single trace."
The goddess of justice gave a small nod, her expression composed, and gestured for the gathered nymphs to disperse and return home.
As always, before they left, Themis distributed high-purity ether fruits from Mount Othrys as payment for their efforts.
The nymphs, who had failed their task, blushed with shame under the goddess's gentle insistence as they held the small, reddish-purple fruits in their hands before spreading their wings and flying away.
Ashamed of accepting the gift, the little ones secretly vowed that once they discovered Samael's whereabouts, they would immediately guide him to the Waterside Treehouse.
When the courtyard grew silent again, Themis closed her manuscript, her delicate brows furrowing.
A few days earlier, the prophet and the seer had come to the Cilician marshes to inform her of the upheaval in Olympus.
Since Themis had always been on good terms with Queen Metis, and given that the two brothers had once been indebted to the Goddess of Wisdom, Prometheus had subtly suggested that if Themis had any private matters to arrange, she could entrust them to her attendant—the one who taught the Queen of the Gods to play chess—to handle communication and assistance.
When did Samael become my attendant?
Do you think that dragging him into this will guarantee I'll side with you?
Still playing your little tricks, Metis.
The goddess of justice frowned deeply, her expression tightening with irritation.
Indeed, for the sake of a potential threat, her niece had made necessary sacrifices. But just as she had always kept her distance from two generations of God Kings, Themis still could not fully read Metis' intentions.
From the way Metis, after learning of her connection with Samael, had unhesitatingly pulled him onto the chariot in a moment of crisis, it was already clear enough. Cronus and Zeus were creatures driven by power, yes, but that didn't mean this so-called Goddess of Wisdom was some pure maiden lost in love.
To be honest, Themis felt Metis was becoming increasingly unfamiliar to her, and the distance between them only grew wider.
If Samael cannot be found, so much the better. She had no intention of letting him stumble blindly into Mount Olympus and risk danger. Being on Metis' radar was never a good thing.
Right now, the struggle for power between the new God King and the Queen of the Gods was already beginning to show. Anyone ignorant of the truth who stepped in could easily end up as a pawn in their contest.
The two brothers Prometheus and Epimetheus were already a good example.
With Samael's level of strength, if he were to get caught up in the conflict between the God King and the Queen, not even his bones would remain.
At present, given her own stance and views, she had essentially chosen neutrality, avoiding involvement in the conflict between Mount Othrys and Mount Olympus. That was already a considerable concession.
At most, Themis would only go so far as to honor past ties—perhaps pulling her niece out of danger in a critical moment, or speaking a few fair words on her behalf.
It was utterly impossible to expect this goddess of justice to entangle herself in such an unjust struggle for power, sacrificing her own life and dragging her cherished companions down with her.
Moreover, an orderly civilization was destined to flourish, while a nation without laws was doomed to fall into chaos.
To Samael, the value of wisdom and the significance of perfected laws far outweighed the squabbles and infighting of the gods. That was the true future of Greece.
Themis reread the manuscript again and again, her thoughts surging, as she silently resolved that she would never allow the treasure she had found to be drawn into this conflict.
Yet the memory rose unbidden: the time when she had taken the child from her brother Oceanus, cradled him in her arms, and made him giggle. Her heart softened.
For someone so proud and aloof, Metis had resorted to such roundabout means just to ask for her help.
It seemed that Metis' situation on Mount Olympus was indeed dire.
Very well. If I can help, I will. When Zeus returns from his journey, I will meet your husband myself.
But as soon as this decision formed in her mind, a restless unease welled up in Themis' heart.
The future was growing ever more obscure, and though she had once possessed a faint sense of destiny, the goddess of justice could no longer grasp any certain revelation.
...
At the same time, in the Sea of Oceanus, at the edge of chaos.
Zeus gazed at the towering shadow before him, formed from gathering clouds. He hesitated for a moment, then lowered his head respectfully.
"Long time no see, Father of the Titans, Lord Uranus..."
"I have come to seek your aid."
From within the unstable form—clouds that flickered and scattered ceaselessly—came a cold, disdainful snort.
"Help you? I would rather see you wretched bastards, tainted with the blood of betrayal, all die!"
Zeus remained unfazed. Instead, his eyes grew more resolute as he spoke firmly.
"The one who wronged you was the tyrant Kronos of Mount Othrys. I too have suffered enough under his abuse."
"Since we share the same enemy, helping me is the same as avenging yourself. Or have you forgotten the shame of the past?"
The words of the King of Olympus were like a torch thrown into an oil field.
The mist roiled violently, darkening into oppressive shades of red and black. A thunderous roar echoed like rolling stormclouds.
"Kronos! Kronos!"
Suddenly, three towering goddesses burst from the fog. Their eyes glowed blood-red, their wings were bat-like, their pupils serpentine. Each held either a blazing torch or a whip of thorns. Their faces were twisted with fury as shrill cries tore from their throats.
"Revenge!"
"Revenge!"
"Revenge!"
The three Furies—said to have been born from the blood of Uranus when he was castrated—were incarnations of vengeance itself. Once bound by such pure malice, one would be doomed to endless torment.
Zeus frowned, instinctively stepping back to keep distance from them, while a heavy gloom settled in his heart about this venture.
It seemed that, stripped of his power to procreate, the Sky Father had indeed grown deranged and hysterical.
Just as Zeus was beginning to waver, the misty shadow steadied. A cold, mocking laugh rang out.
"Help me avenge him? Good. Very good!"
The phantom of Uranus slowly lifted a hand. The sea churned and frothed with white bubbles. From the waves rose a lotus-shaped white shell, carried upward by the tide until it surfaced.
Under Zeus' intent gaze, the shell creaked open.
Inside lay a goddess with porcelain skin, a fern-shaped crown upon her brow, a crimson mark between her eyes, and long golden hair cascading down her shoulders. Naked, she curled in slumber.
At a single glance, Zeus felt his blood surge, his throat dry, and a certain part of his body stiffen like iron.
"Zeus, accept my gift. Everything shall be as you desire!"