Olympus stood still.
The sky above the mountain, normally vibrant with clouds, sunlight, and immortal radiance, had dimmed to a solemn hush.
The great marble amphitheater, a monument of divine splendor, was filled with nearly every god and goddess that resided in the overworld.
They sat in rows of floating thrones and seats formed of clouds, vines, crystal, or gold—each reflecting the personality and domain of the gods they belonged to.
It was a rare occasion for Olympus: not a feast, nor a war council—but a trial.
Prometheus, the fire-thief, the rebel, the Titan who once sided with the Olympians to overthrow his own kin, had been captured.
And today, judgment would be rendered.
But before the trial could begin, all gods waited—some with tension, others with irritation—for the arrival of one being.
Perhaps the most important figure in this gathering. And no it wasn't Zeus, nor Poseidon.
But the god who awaits at the end.
