The cavern glowed faintly, lit by the crystals embedded in the stone walls. Their light was pale, almost weary, as though the mountain itself shared the Eleven's exhaustion. The floor still bore scars from yesterday's sparring—burn marks where Hyperion's sparks struck, shallow craters from Iapetus' blows, ripples in the stone where Oceanus' water had pooled.
The siblings sat in a loose circle, bruised and quiet. Hyperion rubbed his forearms, the skin raw from burns. Oceanus nursed a swollen wrist. Phoebe sat beside Tethys, steadying her trembling hands. Even Iapetus, who usually boasted through pain, rested silently, his eyes distant.
Chronos sat with them, his palm glowing faintly. The silver hourglass pulsed as though mocking him. He had frozen Hyperion for three breaths yesterday. Three. And it had nearly broken him. His siblings had cheered, but all he felt was the weight of failure.
Gaia's vast form shifted at the cavern mouth, her presence filling the space. Her molten eyes swept across her children, pinning them in silence.
"You struck each other yesterday," she said, her voice like rolling thunder. "You bled. You stumbled. You rose again. But hear me now—power means nothing if it stands alone. You are not eleven warriors. You are eleven pillars. You are family. Forget that, and Uranus will tear you apart."
Her words pressed into them like stone settling over their shoulders.
"You are sparks," Gaia continued. "Alone, you flicker. Together, you blaze."
The siblings shifted uneasily. Oceanus glanced at Hyperion, who smirked faintly. Mnemosyne's eye glowed, memorizing every word.
Gaia's gaze fixed on Oceanus first. "You are calm, steady, like the rivers you will one day embody. That calm is strength—it will guide others when storms rage. But hesitation is your weakness. Doubt will drown you if you let it."
Oceanus lowered his head. "I'll… remember, Mother."
Gaia turned to Hyperion. "Your fire is passion. Your flame inspires and destroys. That is your strength. But recklessness will be your ruin. Burn without patience, and you will scorch even those you love."
Hyperion clenched his fists, sparks flashing faintly. He forced a grin, but his voice cracked. "Guess I'll… try not to roast anyone."
The siblings chuckled softly, breaking the tension.
Next was Mnemosyne. Gaia's gaze softened. "Your memory is strength. You will hold what others forget. But arrogance is your weakness. Do not think remembering makes you wiser than those who forget."
Mnemosyne bowed her head, her glowing eye steady. "I'll remember that too."
Themis came next. "Your judgment is clear. You will see truth where others see lies. But rigidity will break you. If you cannot bend, you will shatter."
Themis pressed her lips together. "Then I will learn to bend—but never to break."
Gaia turned to Crius. "You see constellations others cannot. That vision is your strength. But instability shadows you. If you cannot hold your stars steady, your path will scatter."
Crius swallowed hard, fists tightening. "I'll hold them, Mother. I swear it."
Coeus followed. "Wisdom is your strength. Truths will come to you. But overthinking is your weakness. Drown in thought, and you will never act."
Coeus muttered softly, the glow of his scroll-mark dimming. "Then I must learn to move, even when I fear I'll stumble."
Iapetus straightened as Gaia's gaze fell on him. "Your courage is your strength. You leap into the fire when others falter. But fury is your weakness. Lose yourself in rage, and you will strike brother and enemy alike."
Iapetus exhaled sharply, crossing his arms. "I'll… try to keep my temper."
His siblings smirked knowingly.
Phoebe was next. "Your serenity is strength. You steady storms, soothe hearts, heal fear. But gentleness may bind you. If mercy blinds you when justice demands severity, you will fail those who depend on you."
Phoebe bowed her head. "Then I will learn to be both gentle and sharp."
Tethys trembled under Gaia's gaze. "You are flow itself. Adaptable, nourishing. That is your strength. But fear is your weakness. You shrink before your own tide. Trust your current, or it will drown you."
Tethys bit her lip, tears welling. Phoebe placed an arm around her, whispering comfort. Tethys nodded faintly.
Finally, Gaia's eyes burned as they landed on Chronos.
"You are time. Endless. Merciless. Eternal. That is your strength. But burden is your weakness. Already you stagger beneath it. If you see yourself only as cursed, you will break. If you see yourself as chosen, you will rise."
Chronos' breath caught. His palm burned as the silver hourglass pulsed. Chosen… not cursed. The words carved themselves into his bones.
The cavern fell silent. The Eleven sat in stunned quiet, each word weighing heavily. Hyperion glanced at Oceanus, for once without mockery. Themis gave Iapetus a grudging nod. Mnemosyne touched Crius' arm gently. Phoebe tightened her hold on Tethys.
For the first time, they felt not like individuals with powers—but a circle, a family.
Gaia's voice rumbled, shaking the cavern walls.
"You are not fragments to scatter. You are a circle. Alone, you will fall. Together, you will stand as Titans. Protect one another. Grow together. That is the only way to defy the Sky."
Her molten eyes turned upward, as though glaring through stone at the heavens beyond. "Uranus watches. He waits for cracks. He will exploit them. Do not give them to him. Build yourselves as one. Eleven pillars. Eleven sparks that will blaze into a fire even the Sky cannot smother."
The Eleven straightened, their emblems glowing brighter despite exhaustion. Oceanus stood taller. Hyperion smirked, though less arrogantly. Themis' scales gleamed. Crius whispered to his stars. Phoebe and Tethys clung to each other. Iapetus clenched his fists, but with restraint.
Chronos pressed his hand to his chest, his palm burning faintly. For the first time, he didn't feel cursed. He felt connected.
Gaia's final words settled like prophecy.
"Remember: Titans are not born to kneel. Titans are born to hold the sky upon their shoulders—and not break."
The siblings exhaled as one. In that moment, bruised and weary, they felt not small. They felt like a family strong enough to one day carry a world.