The sky above the wilderness burned with the last hues of dusk. Smoke curled faintly from the charred earth where beasts had fallen, their blood steaming into nothing. The Eleven stood together at the edge of a jagged cliff, their emblems glowing faintly in unison.
Gaia rose before them, towering as if she were the very earth itself. Her molten eyes burned with pride and solemnity. When she spoke, her voice rumbled through the mountains and rivers alike.
"You have grown," she said. "Sparks have become flames. But flames untended will wither and die. You must now leave the shelter of my shadow. For eight years, you will walk apart. Eight years of blood, solitude, and choice. In your realms, across this pantheon, you will hunt. You will endure. You will shape your worlds—or be devoured by them."
The Eleven stiffened, their emblems pulsing as her words sank in.
Gaia's molten gaze swept across them, sharp as a blade. "Do not think eight years is a gift of time. It will be gone in a heartbeat, and yet it will test every fragment of who you are. Your realms will open wider, but they will also resist you. The beasts of this pantheon will stalk you without mercy. And the Sky above will watch, waiting for weakness."
Hyperion straightened, sparks of fire leaking from his palms. "Then we'll burn everything in our way."
"Fire consumes as quickly as it protects," Gaia warned. "If you are careless, you will burn yourselves first."
Oceanus bowed his head, his ripple-mark glowing faintly. "And if one of us falls?"
Her silence was heavy before she answered. "Then you will return weaker. Realms share their strength. If one collapses, you all will feel it. That is why you must endure—not only for yourselves, but for each other."
The air thickened with the weight of her words.
"When you return," Gaia continued, "I will test you one last time. If you stand as one, if your realms burn true, then I will call you Titans in truth."
Phoebe swallowed, her crescent gleaming faintly. "And if we fail?"
"Then you will be nothing but children who burned too quickly."
The silence that followed was sharp as stone.
One by one, they departed.
Oceanus turned east, his steps steady toward the seas that thundered faintly in the distance. The pull of the tide sang in his chest. He did not look back.
Hyperion smirked and marched south, toward volcanic peaks where the horizon glowed with molten fire. Pride straightened his spine, but his jaw clenched tighter than his smile betrayed.
Phoebe walked west beneath a sky already touched by moonlight, her silver glow a quiet companion. Tethys followed close, the tide in her emblem pulling her toward drowned caverns and hidden seas.
Mnemosyne traced her glowing mark, her single eye unfocused as she wandered north along winding rivers. Her halls of memory stirred, eager to be filled with both pain and triumph.
Crius tilted his gaze skyward, constellations glittering faintly above his brow. He followed them into the night, whispering to himself as if speaking to the stars alone.
Themis strode into the dark forests, her scales gleaming faintly. Spirits whispered lies in the branches, but her jaw was set. She would weigh them all.
Iapetus cracked his knuckles and stomped into the mountains, fists eager to carve strength into stone. His laughter rumbled faintly as he vanished into the crags.
Coeus descended into shattered ruins, scrolls whispering in the air around him. He welcomed the madness of knowledge, knowing he must learn to bend it or drown beneath it.
One by one, they vanished beyond the horizon.
Until only one remained.
Chronos.
The silver-haired Titan lingered, his silver eyes reflecting the last light of dusk. For the first time, he felt the weight of solitude. His siblings had gone, their paths stretching into distance. The emptiness pressed against him.
The hourglass pulsed in his palm, tugging inward. His vision blurred—and he let it take him.
He opened his eyes to void.
Blackness stretched endless, silence pressing so heavy it roared in his ears. In its heart loomed the clock, vast as mountains, its pendulum swinging. Each toll shook the void. Behind it poured the infinite hourglass, rivers of silver sand spilling in endless streams.
Chronos stepped forward, his breath echoing in the nothing. The sands swirled faintly around his feet, whispering fragments of memory. With each swing of the pendulum, visions rippled—futures flickering, shattering, reforming.
He saw himself triumphant, standing above a broken Sky. He saw himself devoured, erased by the very sands he wielded. The possibilities shifted with every toll.
His chest tightened. Fear clawed at him. It will crush me. It will erase me.
But he clenched his fists. No. Not this time.
The first stream of sand swirled around his arm—Acceleration. His body blurred, steps echoing like thunderclaps.
The second stream pulsed—Deceleration. The pendulum slowed, its toll dragging like heavy chains. Chronos staggered, but he did not fall.
The third stream shimmered—Suspension. A grain of sand froze mid-fall, hanging in the void like a captured star.
Chronos' chest burned, but no blood spilled from his lips, no cracks split his skin. His body held steady.
He exhaled, calm. Time bends for me. It no longer devours me.
Then the void shifted.
From the sands crawled shadows—beasts with too many limbs, faces twisted into endless screams. They were echoes of futures that should not be, shards of time's cruelty. Their claws dripped silver light as they lunged.
Chronos narrowed his eyes. His emblem blazed.
The pendulum tolled, thunder shaking the void. The streams of sand swirled faster around him, and his voice rang clear.
"For eight years, I will endure. I will hunt. I will shape this realm. And when I return, I will not be a spark—I will be time itself."
The shadows roared, and the first beast struck. Chronos surged forward to meet it, silver light blazing against the endless void.