Chapter 128: Olympus plot against poseidon 1
The marble halls of Olympus trembled with a storm that had not been summoned by Zeus.
Lightning snaked across the pillars, golden flames guttered in braziers, and the air tasted of salt. The gods had gathered, one by one, answering a call none of them had spoken but all had felt: a shiver in the currents of power.
They knew the source.
Poseidon.
But it was not only him. Beneath his essence thrummed something older, heavier, a presence that made even the ageless gods feel... mortal.
The throne room filled slowly—Athena, eyes sharp as spears; Apollo, his golden radiance dimmed with unease; Hera, regal and cold; and Ares, armor clanking, lips curled into a cruel grin as though he hoped for war.
Finally, Zeus arrived. Thunder rolled as he seated himself upon his throne, the master of storms, his gaze burning with suspicion.
"Brothers, sisters," he said, his voice rumbling like an avalanche. "You all felt it. Poseidon’s power has... shifted. No, it has multiplied. It reeks of something older than us all."
Athena folded her arms, her grey eyes unblinking. "This is no ordinary awakening. What I sensed was not the sea’s song. It was the abyss. A hunger, fathomless and merciless. If this is truly my uncle, then he is no longer the Poseidon we know."
Apollo leaned forward, restless, golden hair shimmering like firelight. "Then who is he? Or rather, what is he?"
The room fell silent until Hera’s voice cut through, smooth and venomous. "We should not pretend ignorance. We have records—fragments from the First Age. The name whispered among them is Thalorin."
The moment the name left her lips, torches flickered. A pulse of power swept across the chamber, as though even the sound of it reached through time.
Zeus’s knuckles tightened on his throne. "You dare speak that name here?"
"Why not?" Hera’s lips curled. "Fear will not serve us. Recognition will. The ancient sea entity that devoured empires before our birth has returned... wearing your brother’s flesh."
Ares grinned savagely, his teeth white against his beard. "Then let us do what we were made for. If Poseidon is no longer himself, then he is a threat. I say we kill him before he gathers strength. Better to cut the rot before it spreads."
Athena’s voice sliced through his bloodlust. "And if you are wrong? If Poseidon still lives within, struggling against this entity? Would you slaughter one of the Three without proof?"
The chamber shifted, murmurs rising from minor gods who stood behind the greater Olympians. Hermes smirked from the shadows, restless fingers playing with a silver coin. "Athena raises a point. But we must be practical. Whether Poseidon is himself or not, this ’Thalorin’—if he truly stirs—will not wait for us to debate over wine and riddles. He will act. He will drown us all."
Zeus rose to his feet, lightning coiling around his arms. His voice carried authority, thunderous and undeniable.
"Then hear my decree: Poseidon is to be watched. Closely. If his power tips beyond the balance of Olympus, we will strike. I will not allow another Titanomachy—especially not born from within our own ranks."
"Watched?" Ares spat, slamming his spear against the floor. "Cowardice! What we need is blood, not patience."
"Silence, war-dog," Athena snapped, her tone icy. "You think only with your sword. If we kill him hastily and it is Poseidon, then Olympus will fracture. Mortals will rebel, sensing weakness. Our rule will collapse not from Thalorin, but from our own folly."
Hera’s eyes glittered dangerously. "Do not pretend mercy, Athena. We both know you fear what this awakening means. It threatens your precious wisdom and strategies. If Poseidon—if Thalorin—rises, your wit will not save us."
Tension thickened like a storm cloud.
For the first time, Hades stirred from the shadows of his obsidian throne. His presence was chilling, his robes swallowing light, his eyes endless pits. He rarely spoke at these councils, but now his words curled like smoke through the air.
"You argue as if choice still belongs to us. It does not. Whether Poseidon is consumed or not, the abyss has tasted freedom again. The waters that obeyed him no longer sing the same hymn. They whisper. They hunger."
Zeus’s storm dimmed slightly as he turned to his brother. "And what do you propose, Lord of the Dead?"
Hades’s lips curved faintly, though it was not a smile.
"I propose inevitability. You can scheme, threaten, or pray, but the abyss will not stop. It never has. It only waits. The only question is whether Poseidon is our ally... or our executioner."
The hall descended into uneasy silence.
Even Ares lowered his weapon.
Then a voice, calm and melodic, spoke from the edge of the chamber. It was Aphrodite, her beauty disarming, her eyes however sharp as daggers behind soft lashes.
"Perhaps you are all wrong." She tilted her head, lips curling faintly. "Perhaps Poseidon is not lost, nor merely possessed. Perhaps he is Thalorin reborn. Perhaps the sea has chosen its true master... and the rest of us are only pretending to be gods."
A ripple of unease coursed through the hall.
Zeus’s hand trembled upon his staff. He forced control into his voice, though beneath it there was fear he dared not show.
"Then Olympus stands at a crossroads. Watch him, test him, and if he falters—" His eyes darkened like thunderclouds, voice cracking with power.
"—we end him."
Lightning split the chamber ceiling, a storm breaking over the highest mountain in the world.
And far below, in the mortal realm, the sea answered with a roar that was not entirely Poseidon’s.
High above the mortal seas, Olympus loomed in its radiant majesty. White marble spires touched the heavens, their golden tips gleaming beneath the light of Helios’s chariot. The clouds curled around the mountain like silk veils, a divine curtain hiding the seat of power from mortal eyes. Yet within, the atmosphere was tense, disturbed, and heavy with whispers.
The great hall of the Twelve throbbed with divine energy. Pillars carved with ancient victories rose around the circular chamber, and in the center burned the sacred flame of Hestia. The gods were gathered—resplendent, magnificent, and yet restless. For word had reached Olympus: Poseidon had changed.