The Cilician Marshes. Mist drifted through the forest, faint blue-white lightning flickering within it, spreading an aura of solemn majesty.
All around, silence reigned. The more perceptive Magical Beasts and nymphs instinctively fell still, crouching low to the ground.
"Guests of Olympus, since you are here, please enter."
Inside the Waterside Treehouse, Themis lifted her head. From beneath the black veil, her eyes gazed softly toward the entrance.
"Ha ha, it has been a long time, Aunt Themis."
A young God King with silver hair bound by a golden crown, half his muscular chest exposed, walked forward with a smile, thunderbolt scepter in hand.
"If I remember correctly, this should be our first meeting, son of Kronos."
The goddess of justice carefully set aside her manuscript and spoke lightly. Two cups filled with crystal dew floated to the table.
"Aunt Themis, you summoned me here—surely not just to act as a spokesman for that good father of Mount Othrys?"
Zeus picked up the cup, took a sip of the crystal dew, and frowned slightly.
"Though we share his blood and call him father, he has never once treated us as his children!"
Your Majesty?
Themis caught the deliberate weight he placed on the title, her brows drawing faintly together.
So Prometheus was right. His journey to the Sea of Oceanus truly benefited this nephew greatly. In the battles to come against Mount Othrys, he may already hold the overwhelming advantage that fuels such confidence.
Could it be he has truly won the support of Uranus, the Sky Father?
That fear, engraved into bone and soul, made even the calm and steady Themis feel the slightest tremor. A faint unease shadowed her thoughts about what would follow in their discussion.
"O God King of Olympus, our experiences are similar. I understand your feelings and your resentment."
"Therefore, in your struggle with Kronos, I will remain neutral."
The goddess of justice paused, turning the cup gently in her hand, weighing her words before speaking in a measured tone.
Zeus nodded readily, his smile growing brighter at her words.
"Aunt Themis, I thank you for your wisdom and understanding."
"In return, I will treat you as family, just as I have the other elders who chose my side, and I will preserve your divine seat."
Themis inclined her head faintly. With the mood between them eased, she slid the neatly ordered manuscript of laws before her ambitious nephew.
"Look, Zeus. We are Divine Spirits, not beasts."
"Since you have inherited such a fate, do not abandon yourself as Kronos once did."
"Self-restraint is a virtue of divinity. Only through it can your rule grow more prosperous and endure."
What is this? Laws and rules to be upheld beneath the stars?
Zeus skimmed it carelessly, but at the very first clause, his brows knit tighter.
"The union of the sexes is the foundation of civilization. Under the witness of the Mother Goddess Gaia, man and woman form family bonds through marriage, established in law."
"Neither party may harm the other without cause. They must respect and support each other. Honor, property, hardships, and trials are to be shared by both..."
The rest contained injunctions to treat rational beings kindly, forbid senseless killing, and prohibit plunder.
Then Themis extended her arms. The light marks on her hands converged into a long sword, its body of gold and blue, a ruby set at its center, scabbard gleaming.
At both ends of the hilt hung a small golden scale, etched with star-patterns—the symbol of balance and justice.
The Scales of the Stars, the Sword of Judgment. One to judge, the other to decide. Together, they embodied the divine authority of the goddess of justice—and when united, they took this form.
"Zeus, if you swear in the name of justice to treat your wife with kindness, I will aid you in restoring order to the heavens and the earth, and ensure that the glory of Olympus endures for all time."
The Goddess of Justice spoke solemnly. Her eyes, hidden behind a black veil, looked straight ahead, never directly meeting Zeus's.
Yet it felt as though somewhere beyond, a pair of cold, rational eyes gazed down upon the workings of the mortal world.
Zeus lifted his eyes, only to feel a formless pressure sweeping toward him.
White robes—symbol of flawless virtue and incorruptible morality.
The blindfold—because justice relies solely on reason, not on the deceptions of sight.
The scales—measuring fairness, granting each their due, no more and no less.
The sword—sign of severe punishment, granting no mercy.
The King of Olympus realized that if he swore such an oath, if he accepted marriage as a bond sanctified by law, then the moment he betrayed it, judgment from the stars themselves would fall upon him.
It was a resolve so absolute that not even the gods could defy it—the will to uphold justice, even if heaven and earth were torn apart.
These Twelve Titans, born from the very order of the cosmos, were no ordinary deities. If they acted with full force, even he, God King as he was, would struggle to escape their domain unscathed.
Sensing the danger, Zeus's expression darkened. His hands recoiled as though burned by red-hot iron, and he flung the manuscript of laws Themis had given him back onto the table.
Realizing his reaction had been too abrupt, the god king's facial muscles twitched slightly. He forced a stiff smile, his gaze flickering.
"Aunt Themis, you put me in a difficult position. The war between Olympus and Mount Othrys is not yet over. How could the gods possibly bind their own hands?"
The goddess of justice remained silent, her hands still presenting the sword, waiting calmly for his reply.
"Your laws, if they truly prove their worth, can wait until I have secured the throne. Then I may consider them."
Zeus's false smile faded. At last, he gave a clear, reluctant answer.
As expected—trying to restrain a beast chasing power with law and reason was nothing but a futile dream.
Themis sighed softly, lowering her arms. The Sword of Judgment, with the Scales of the Stars hanging from it, returned to rest at her slender waist.
Zeus's gaze lingered on her snow-white skin. The memory of that forbidden weight above his head stirred something heated in his chest.
"Aunt Themis, the spread and enforcement of laws must be sanctioned by the king."
"Your foresight, your beauty—they have already conquered me. Come with me to Olympus. Be my wife."
"In the golden age to come, the glory of the gods will never fade, and order shall rule heaven and earth."
Beneath his tender gaze and solemn vows, his words carried an air of absolute sincerity.
And indeed, he was not lying—but as for the future, who could say when, or what, it might hold?
Unseen, a peculiar rhythm spread from Zeus's body, like sparks setting dry wood ablaze.
The god king lifted his hand slightly, lips curling in a confident smile as he extended his invitation. His gaze, sharp and invasive, was that of a man already appraising his private possession.