I never wanted this life. Not the glory, not the blood, not the weight of a father’s legacy I never asked for. I’m just a fisherman now, teaching my son how to mend nets and read the stars. But the sea doesn’t forget who I am.

Last night, it brought a corpse to shore—wearing my brother Ares’ armor, eyes burned out, lips frozen in a scream. And on his chest, carved in divine script: 'The Father Falls.'

I know what it means. Zeus is dying. And if he dies, the chains on Tartarus break.

This morning, Helius asked why the sky is red. I told him it was just dawn. But I saw the shadows moving against the wind—Hades’ reapers, already hunting.

I can hide. I can fight. Or I can seek the old ways—the forgotten gods who walked before Olympus.

But time is running out. The earth trembled at sunrise. And deep below, something ancient laughed.