"The decree has been made; an end shall be brought forth, as we have willed it."
Nyx stepped forward to embrace Erebos, revealing to him the ultimate fate of Chaos.
This would prove to be a prolonged process, one that would consume much of the Primordial Gods' and Cosmic Laws' attention. Tyche, foreseeing this, cast a seed from the fruit of the World Tree toward the Invisible Isle.
The seed, imbued with a fragment of Tyche's consciousness, landed within the orchard of the island's guardian Dryads, who remained oblivious to the sudden appearance of a new apple tree among their grove.
Upon Mount Olympus, the gods still basked in the triumph over Typhon, indulging in unrestrained revelry. The delight and solace brought by Aphrodite overflowed the sacred halls.
Though Typhon had been subdued, countless monstrous beings still lurked in the farthest corners of the world. This hard-won victory did not awaken vigilance in the pleasure-seeking deities, save for Zeus, the mighty Thunder God, whose heart bore unease.
Echidna, the she-serpent who had birthed monsters alongside Typhon, still concealed herself in the shadows. This Mother of Monsters was daughter to Keto, the Peril of the Sea, and Phorkys, its Wrathful Fury. Unloved by her parents, she was never granted a divine office, remaining essentially a sea nymph.
Fierce Echidna descended through a rift in the ocean floor into the abyss, mingling with the creatures forged by Tartarus, becoming henceforth its silent warden.
In recognition of her alliance, Tartarus bestowed upon this sea nymph the divine authority of caves—thus elevating her to goddesshood. Her union with Typhon further granted her formidable powers of fertility; the rampant spread of monsters stirred dread among mortals, and from this fear-fueled reverence, Echidna ascended to the rank of a lesser deity of moderate power.
During the war between gods and Typhon, this goddess of fertility and caverns foresaw the tide turning ill and swiftly retreated into the depths, escaping divine retribution.
So long as Echidna remains hidden beneath the earth, no land shall ever be free from monstrous corruption! Yet now, the very boundaries of the world stretch endlessly, and the present pantheon is insufficient to maintain dominion. The abyss remains a forsaken, dreaded realm, and Echidna's strength surpasses that of weaker deities. Fewer still are willing or able to seek out the Mother of Monsters.
Kronos, observing his brother's brooding, approached Zeus to inquire the cause of his sorrow.
"Zeus, our universally acclaimed King of Gods, why does melancholy cloud your brow? Does even such a victory fail to bring joy to your heart?"
Zeus voiced his concerns regarding Echidna in response to the god of calamity's jest.
Yet Kronos's reply only deepened Zeus's frustration.
"My dear brother, there exists no other god here who shares your anxieties."
Gazing at the celebrating deities, he continued, "To those gods who thrive on worship, the existence of monsters is indispensable. Silver Humanity, having witnessed the terror of beasts, clings all the more fervently to divine faith. In maintaining their radiant image, the gods gain greater devotion. Who then would earnestly pursue Echidna?"
Zeus was well aware of this truth. "If these monsters continue unchecked, Echidna shall grow stronger through mortal fear. I may tolerate their presence, but it is fitting that Echidna remain a weak deity at most. Thus, their numbers must be kept within bounds."
Once again, the issue returned to the scarcity of deities. Too few possessed the might to rival Echidna, while countless monsters yet required eradication. The divine ranks were grievously thin. Though mankind remained sparse now, their reproductive capacity would soon demand that the gods tirelessly protect them from monstrous incursions.
The gaze of the Sovereign God fell upon Hera, goddess of marriage, and Aphrodite, goddess of love—both held divine portfolios closely tied to procreation. Perhaps the solution lay with them.
Zeus first consulted Aphrodite, a major goddess. She too had once coveted the power of fertility, yet to preserve her ascent to higher divinity, she reluctantly recommended Hera instead.
"The force of procreation aligns more naturally with marital bonds. Hestia, goddess of the hearth, has sworn upon the Styx to remain a virgin, directly opposing the fertility aspect of her domestic domain. Should she choose to transfer that portion of power to Hera, the Goddess of Marriage shall assuredly claim the Office of Fertility."
Aphrodite spoke with conviction, compelling Zeus—who knew well the strained relations between her and Hera—to deliberate carefully. If even Aphrodite, who harbored no affection for Hera, acknowledged her suitability, then indeed she must be the best choice.
Thereupon, Zeus summoned both Hera and Hestia. The goddess of marriage found the proposal intriguing and turned to the gentle Hestia.
Hestia, having vowed eternal chastity, had already resolved to relinquish that aspect of her divinity. Naturally inclined to aid her sister, she graciously consented to the King of Gods' request.
Fertility was a subdomain of life itself. Hence, Zeus specifically opened the Life Domain to Hera, hoping she would sever Echidna's dominion over reproduction and impose limits upon the monster population.
The Primordial Gods had neither time nor concern for such matters; Echidna posed no threat to them, as they drew no sustenance from worship. However, the Cosmic Law found occasion to bestow blessings upon Hera. A world overrun with destructive monstrosities served no purpose, and weakening Echidna aligned with the interests of the natural order.
With the Law's intervention, Echidna's dominion over fertility was torn away. A wave of blessing swept across gods and mortals alike, heralding a coming age of abundance. This flourishing of life enriched the sole great deity of the Life Domain—Zeus himself.
Hera had not foreseen such fortune—a vacant throned dominion among the three unclaimed Principal Godships resonated with her spirit! The Law desired prosperity and thus willed Hera's elevation to Principal Goddess, granting her greater influence. It was a turn of events none had anticipated. Hestia rejoiced for her sister, while Poseidon feigned delight with forced cheer.
Among the five siblings, only the eldest, Hestia, and the youngest, Poseidon, remained without the honor of Principal Divinity.
The chaste Hearth Goddess cared little for such titles; her vow of perpetual virginity earned her universal respect among the divine. But for Poseidon, this omission felt like a veiled mockery—an insult that stirred tempestuous resentment within him, like a rising tidal wave.
Zeus, having achieved his aim, raised his goblet and proclaimed to the assembly of gods:
"Let us rejoice, for the rise of Principal Goddess Hera foretells our golden age! Immortals, offer praises to the newly crowned sovereign!"
Zeus decreed that the festivities continue. The contests of weaving and planting had already concluded, but events such as archery, tug-of-war, and the javelin throw had yet to commence.
Atlas, the God of Strength, and Menoetius, the God of Courage, stepped forth to resume their unfinished duel.
Fuelled by wine and triumph, the gods were in high spirits, cheering eagerly as they gathered to witness the clash of these divine titans.
The contest between courage and might was dazzling, a spectacle so intense even the goddesses could not suppress gasps of astonishment at its ferocity.
As all eyes remained fixed upon the battle of the two brothers, Iris, the Goddess of the Rainbow, approached the King of Gods and whispered an urgent report—bearing tidings from Tyche, carried by a visitor from the Invisible Isle.
Arke, the Goddess of the Omen-Bearing Rainbow, led a woman clad in white robes and crowned with silver hair into the temple halls, instantly drawing the curiosity of the assembled deities. The Rainbow Goddesses were once under Tyche's dominion; at Zeus's request, they had come to Olympus to serve as heralds of divine will. They had also once nurtured Tyche's sons in their youth, earning them deep respect from the twins. Though now servants of the Olympians, neither Arke nor Iris had grown proud or arrogant, fulfilling their duties faithfully as messengers between heaven and earth.
That Arke should greet this stranger with such reverence suggested she was no ordinary visitor.
The goddess entered trailing a chill, and despite the heated excitement of the battle, many among the gods involuntarily shivered. Her smile, however, was warm and radiant in contrast to the cold she bore. She introduced herself to the assembly:
"I am Dione, emissary of Lady Tyche, goddess of winter and ice."
Kronos and Zeus exchanged uneasy glances. They both knew well that Tyche had once left behind a fragment of her essence on the Invisible Isle—a vessel of her own power. They recognized the truth hidden beneath Dione's mortal guise.
"Welcome, Goddess Dione," Zeus said with a wry expression, humoring his mother's charade with a knowing glance.
"I bring you the decree of Lady Tyche," Dione continued gently. "King Zeus, your mother bids me present this golden apple tree as a reward for your victory over Typhon. She has full confidence that you shall lead the gods into an age of brilliance."
With those words, a tree half the height of a man appeared in her hands. Its blossoms shimmered faintly; the trunk gleamed like gold, its leaves like silver, and its pale pink flowers radiated a translucent crystal clarity.
Zeus accepted the sacred tree. In the next instant, a flash of blinding light enveloped him, and his consciousness found itself upon the pristine shores of the Invisible Isle.
"I hope I haven't arrived too late," Tyche emerged from the waves with a serene smile.
"My child, your moment has come."
She seated herself upon a stone along the shore, her expression turning solemn.
"The time for the world's ascension is near, and with it comes the opportunity for mighty gods to ascend to Primordial status!"
Zeus listened intently, asking no questions about why his mother had summoned him through the golden tree.
"Though I cannot foresee the exact nature of the world after its transformation, I believe—at the very least—two new Primordial Gods shall arise."
Tyche's gaze was piercing, her dominion spanning land, sky, and sea. Even without certainty, she could glimpse fragments of what lay ahead.
"At present, only two pose true competition. Phoebe, the prophetic goddess, has long since transcended the rank of mighty deity—her ascension seems assured. But Astraea is my dear friend, and Leto, your wife, provides common ground for alliance."
"The other contender is Pontus, the ancient sea god." Tyche narrowed her eyes, idly tracing patterns in the tide. "He remains a mystery. Why he has so steadfastly chosen Eros is beyond me. Yet one thing is certain—he and the primordial god of love have struck a bargain far deeper than merely birthing Aphrodite. Eros must have promised full support in Pontus's bid for Primordial divinity, explaining his unwavering loyalty."
Zeus pondered briefly before offering his own speculation. "Perhaps Prometheus's defiance was also influenced by Pontus."
"Possibly," Tyche affirmed. "Eros, as the source of desire, can easily sway a lesser deity. Fortunately, both are occupied for now—or else your ascent to Primordial status would be fraught with obstacles."
"Pontus will learn of this soon enough," she warned. "And he will seek to hinder you, delay your progress. Remember, the throne of kingship is both power and burden—the fate of the cosmos rests partly upon your shoulders. Be wary of him."
Zeus nodded solemnly, and Tyche continued.
"Eros's essence gave birth to Aphrodite. Once she reaches the rank of mighty goddess, his primordial strength will inevitably wane! It won't unseat him, but until that matter is resolved, he will be unable to aid Pontus."
"Aphrodite's ascension depends on Hera. A child born of love within marriage shall be the key to her heart."
Tyche had considered every angle. What remained was for Zeus to act.
"Styx, keeper of the River of Oaths, is my manifestation. She will help you maintain order among the gods of the Underworld."
Before vanishing into mist, Tyche added one final reminder:
"I have left within the golden apple tree a fragment of pure, supreme divinity. May it aid you in closing the gap between yourself and your rivals."
As the haze faded, Zeus stood once more before the grand temple.
Dione had already moved beside Kronos, whispering her mistress's final command:
"The moment to transcend the limits of mighty divinity draws near. Until then, do not accept worship from mortals."
Though the meaning of this prophecy eluded him, Kronos stored it carefully in his mind. This chance to ascend to Primordial status was not his to claim—but his own destiny would arrive soon enough.
The pure essence of supreme divinity coursed through Zeus, igniting the divine fire within his chest with renewed vigor. His gaze swept across the indifferent Poseidon. As god of storms and embodiment of oceanic rhythms, Poseidon was himself one of the conceptual sea deities. Would Pontus truly act out of benevolence? That seemed unlikely. If so, then Poseidon's loyalties were not beyond question.
As for Aphrodite's ascension, Zeus followed the direction of her longing gaze—to Hera. Clearly, the goddess of love had already begun her efforts.
Hera had not yet recovered from the joy of becoming a Principal Goddess. Her smile shone brighter than the most precious jewels adorning her crown. Aphrodite watched with rising urgency—now elevated to sovereignty, Hera was no longer within reach of a mere lesser deity like Menoetius. With a flicker of thought, the goddess of desire sent unseen tendrils of passion curling toward Atlas.
Suddenly, the God of Strength faltered, his spear veering sharply past Menoetius's face and burying itself deeply into a marble column.
Menoetius seized the opening, lunging forward and crashing into his elder brother, sending him hurtling backward. His weapon remained lodged in the pillar. Atlas steadied himself midair, landing with shield raised just in time to block the incoming spear.