The smoke of battle still lingered, clinging to the air like a memory that refused to fade. The Eleven sat in silence, their bodies bruised and bloodied, their emblems glowing faintly from exhaustion. Even victorious, their hearts felt unsteady.
Gaia loomed above them, her molten eyes like suns set in stone. Her voice rolled through the canyon, steady and undeniable.
"You endured. You held to your realms even as the Sky's beasts clawed at you. But what you touched today is only the beginning. Sparks and fragments. To rise higher, to stand as Titans, you must not only become your realms—you must create them."
The Eleven stiffened, lifting their gazes toward her.
"Create?" Coeus asked, his glowing scroll trembling faintly in his hand. "We already are our realms. That's what you told us."
Gaia shook her vast head. The earth beneath her rumbled. "You are sparks. Embers caught in wind. You wield fragments of what you could be. To endure, you must build worlds within yourselves. Titans are not only flesh and emblem. Titans carry realms inside them. That is your strength. That is your burden."
She lifted her hand. Soil and stone spilled from her palm, scattering across the ground. "I am Earth. Within me are rivers, mountains, valleys, forests. Your father is the Sky. Within him stretch storms, stars, endless winds. That is why we endure. That is why we clash. If you would rise, you must forge realms inside yourselves—worlds that reflect your essence."
The Eleven shifted uneasily, their emblems pulsing brighter at her words.
Phoebe whispered, her crescent glowing silver. "A world… inside me?"
"Yes," Gaia rumbled, her voice softening. "A sanctuary to heal you when you bleed. A forge to sharpen you when you waver. A weapon to unleash when all else fails. But know this: realms grow as you grow. If you neglect them, they collapse. And if they collapse, they devour the one who bears them."
The warning settled like stone in their chests.
"Sit," Gaia commanded. "Close your eyes. Breathe with your emblems. Do not grasp for power—reach inward. Listen. Carve your first stone."
The Eleven obeyed. They formed a circle, closing their eyes, breaths unsteady but deepening. Light bled faintly from their emblems, each pulse echoing in rhythm with their hearts.
Oceanus gasped first. His ripple-mark glowed blue, and he felt a river unfolding within him. It wound endlessly, flowing through valleys unseen, stretching to an ocean without end. Its current was steady, pulling him forward. His lips curved faintly. I carry the ocean inside me.
Hyperion clenched his fists, sparks flickering wildly. But when he drew the fire inward, it condensed into something greater. His chest blazed, shaping into a sun-core burning behind his ribs. It radiated light without consuming him, warmth instead of chaos. He exhaled, trembling. A sun. My sun.
Phoebe's crescent glowed brighter. She felt moons blooming in her chest, faint and ghostly at first, then circling her with gentle silver light. Their glow soothed her, reflecting calm in endless rhythm. She whispered, "Moons… my moons…"
Beside her, Tethys gasped as her wave-mark surged. She felt a tide rising within, not to drown but to embrace. A boundless ocean pulsed in her veins, holding her steady. Tears streaked her cheeks as she whispered, "The ocean… it holds me."
Mnemosyne's glowing eye blazed. She found herself standing in halls of memory stretching endlessly within—towering walls lined with orbs of light. Each orb was a memory, glowing and waiting to be touched. She trembled, whispering, "I can hold them. All of them."
Crius' stars flickered chaotically until suddenly they aligned. He saw constellations arcing above, a dome of starlight forming patterns where chaos had ruled. His lips parted, breathless. "The stars obey me now."
Themis breathed slowly, her scales shimmering. Within her, she felt golden scales unfurling vast and unshakable. One plate weighed, the other judged. Together they balanced endlessly. "Judgment," she whispered. "Balance."
Iapetus gritted his teeth, fury threatening to tear him apart. But when he reached deeper, he saw his rage harden into form: a fortress of bone and iron rising inside him. Its walls stood unyielding, forged by anger not to destroy, but to defend. His lips curved into a fierce grin. My fury builds as much as it destroys.
Coeus' glowing scroll unfurled within his mind. But unlike the endless flood of thought he always drowned in, these scrolls pulsed like living veins, glowing with rhythm. A library that breathed with him. "Knowledge alive," he whispered, trembling. "Endless."
Then Chronos.
He closed his eyes, the silver hourglass in his palm pulsing violently. The sands burned his veins, dragging him inward. His lungs screamed. His bones felt ready to shatter.
He fell into darkness.
There, he saw it—an hourglass so vast it dwarfed the sky. Its sands fell endlessly, countless streams pouring without end. Each grain pulsed with memory, with death, with rebirth. The sound was deafening, crushing, beautiful.
His chest convulsed. His breath stopped.
The sands pressed against him, ready to bury him. Fear clawed at his ribs. It will swallow me. It will erase me.
But Gaia's words echoed: Do not freeze. Flow.
Chronos inhaled, shuddering. Exhaled. The sands slowed. Not stopping, not crushing. Flowing steady. Carrying. Endless, but bearable.
His lips trembled as he whispered, "Time… endless. Time… mine."
The Eleven opened their eyes one by one. Their emblems glowed brighter, steadier, each carrying a faint shimmer that had not been there before. Their postures were firmer, their breaths calmer.
Phoebe smiled faintly at Tethys, who no longer trembled. Oceanus' eyes gleamed with quiet confidence. Hyperion's grin returned, sharp and sure. Mnemosyne's gaze burned with fierce clarity. Crius' stars glowed steady above his head. Themis' scales shimmered with quiet power. Iapetus cracked his knuckles with pride. Coeus' eyes blazed with thought alive and clear.
Chronos sat in silence, palm over his chest. The hourglass pulsed faintly, its rhythm no longer crushing but steady. Not just a mark, he thought. A world. A time that is mine.
Gaia's molten gaze swept across them. Her voice rumbled like prophecy.
"These are your personal realms. Sparks now, but one day they will be worlds. They will heal you when you bleed, sharpen you when you falter, and strike when you command. But never forget—if you neglect them, they will collapse. And if they collapse, they will devour you from within."
The warning hung heavy, but so did the promise.
"You have taken your first step into eternity," Gaia continued. "You are no longer only sparks. You are Titans, bearing worlds. Guard them. Grow them. One day, those worlds will decide whether the Sky endures—or falls."
The Eleven sat in silence, their hearts trembling, their inner realms glowing faintly behind their eyes.
The Age of Titans had opened its first doors of eternity.