The battle-scorched wilderness had grown still again. The air smelled of smoke, ash, and faint rain, but the Eleven no longer trembled as they once had. Their emblems glowed in rhythm, faint but steady, as though all their sparks pulsed together.
They gathered by a cliffside where the earth dipped into a quiet hollow. The stone beneath them was warm, as if Gaia's lifeblood still flowed there. The stars above shone sharp and cold, their light cutting across the silence. For the first time in days, there were no beasts clawing at their throats, no drills demanding their blood. Just silence, and each other.
Hyperion was the first to break it. He picked up a rock and tossed it into the hollow. It bounced twice before shattering into dust. "Well," he said, his grin crooked, "Mother just told us we're not children anymore. Guess that makes us… what? Half-Titans?"
Oceanus raised a brow. "You say that like you were ever the mature one."
"Please," Hyperion scoffed, leaning back on his elbows. "Without me, half of you would've drowned, burned, or cried yourselves to sleep."
Phoebe snorted softly, her silver crescent flickering. "You talk like you didn't nearly set your own hair on fire last week."
A ripple of laughter broke through the circle, brief but real. Even Gaia, silent and watchful above them, let the ground hum faintly in approval.
The moment faded into quieter voices.
Tethys leaned closer to Phoebe, her fingers twisting in the grass. "Do you think she's right? That our realms could… collapse? That they could devour us?"
Phoebe met her gaze, calm as moonlight. "Yes. But that doesn't mean we should fear them. It means we shape them before they shape us."
Mnemosyne rubbed the glowing line of her emblem, her single eye unfocused. "I saw my halls of memory," she whispered. "Every moment carved into light. But it scared me—if I can hold everything, then what happens when I lose myself inside it?"
Before Phoebe could answer, Coeus placed a steady hand on Mnemosyne's shoulder. His scrolls flickered faintly behind him, words shimmering in the air. "Then let me remind you," he said quietly. "Memory and knowledge aren't enemies. Together, they can be whole."
Mnemosyne's lips curved faintly. For once, she didn't flinch from her brother's words.
Crius tilted his head back, eyes tracing constellations that weren't in the sky but in his mind. "When I closed my eyes, the stars obeyed me. But the more I shaped them, the more I realized… I don't know what I want them to be. Weapons? Maps? A crown of light? I don't know what I'm making."
Themis' scales pulsed faintly in response. "Then weigh carefully," she advised, her voice firm but not unkind. "A realm is not only a weapon. It's a judgment. If you don't know your truth, the stars will scatter again."
Crius frowned, his jaw tight, but nodded, thoughtful.
Iapetus slammed his gauntleted fist into the dirt, leaving a crater. "My fortress grows, but every wall is scarred. Every rage I've ever felt carved into it. Maybe that's my fate—my fury is my world."
Oceanus leaned forward, his ripple-mark glowing faintly. "No, brother. A fortress isn't just rage. It's built to protect. Maybe your scars aren't weakness. Maybe they're proof that you can endure, and that you can shelter others with that strength."
For once, Iapetus didn't argue. His lips curled faintly, almost grateful.
Chronos sat slightly apart from the others, his silver hair gleaming faintly in the starlight. He hadn't spoken since waking from his void. His emblem still pulsed steadily, silver sands drifting in his palm.
Phoebe's eyes settled on him. "And you, Chronos? You've been silent."
The circle shifted. All eyes turned to him.
He exhaled slowly, meeting their gazes. "I saw it again. My realm. The void. The clock. The sands. It wasn't calm—it was heavy. Endless. But I wasn't crushed this time. It… welcomed me."
The words rippled through the circle, settling heavy on each of them.
Hyperion broke the weight with a grin. "Well, that settles it then. If time itself is on your side, I guess the rest of us better step up."
This time, the laughter came easier, richer, as if they were trying it on for the first time. Even Chronos' lips curved faintly.
The night deepened, the stars wheeling slowly above. They spoke of small things—memories of their training, the way Mnemosyne muttered in her sleep, how Crius always frowned when thinking too hard, how Hyperion's pride burned brighter than his sun. They teased, argued, encouraged.
But the undercurrent never vanished. Each knew what tomorrow meant. Each knew their realms were waiting, vast and dangerous.
At last, Gaia's voice rumbled gently through the earth, softer than any of them had ever heard.
"You are not true Titans—not yet. But you are no longer children. Tonight you sit as siblings, as sparks that have become flames. Tomorrow, you will step into your worlds, and they will test you. But never forget—you are not alone. Your flames burn brighter together."
The Eleven bowed their heads, not in fear, but in solemn acceptance.
Chronos looked around the circle, at the siblings he had begun to understand. For the first time, he felt not just burden—but belonging.
Time may devour, but we will endure. Together.
The Titans slept beneath Gaia's shadow, their emblems glowing faintly, their realms stirring in silence. Tomorrow would begin their lonely journeys inward—but tonight, they were one.