I Am Zeus-Chapter 55: Titan’s Intervention

The moment Kratos lunged forward, the silent dawn split with a deep, pulsing vibration. Marble columns trembled. Thin cracks raced up their carved lengths, scattering flecks of white dust across the polished floor.

Kratos’s massive fist froze inches from Metis’s chest. His iron-dark eyes flicked sideways in shock, feeling an unseen force gripping his wrist like a vice.

"Step back."

The voice was quiet, almost gentle, but it carried a weight that turned every shadow in the hall cold. Slowly, Kratos turned his head.

Rhea stood in the shattered doorway, her robe of pale moss-green drifting around her feet like river fog. Her hair, streaked with silver and dark gold, fell loose down her back, rippling faintly with an unseen breeze. Around her ankles, wildflowers bloomed from the cracks in the marble, their white petals trembling.

Bia stepped forward sharply, raising her hand in another killing gesture, but Rhea simply raised her eyes to her, calm and unblinking.

"Child," Rhea whispered softly.

Bia froze mid-step. Her mouth opened slightly as her eyes rolled back, her body locking in place. A thin vine sprouted from beneath the marble at her feet, curling softly around her ankles, flowering into small white blossoms that brushed against her skin.

Phobos snarled, flicking his dagger from its sheath with a fluid spin of his wrist. He lunged forward, aiming for Rhea’s throat, his grin stretching wide.

But before he could reach her, roots erupted from the cracks beneath him, coiling around his legs like iron chains. They dragged him down to his knees, the marble buckling under his weight. He slashed desperately at the thick vines, but for every root he cut, two more emerged, wrapping around his arms and chest, tightening until his breath came in sharp, ragged gasps.

Icelus drifted back, his heavy-lidded eyes widening faintly as the dream-mist coiling from his hands shifted, recoiling into his sleeves.

"Rhea..." he whispered, his voice trembling. "Mother of gods... Lady of earth and birth... this is not your war."

Rhea’s gaze flicked to him, her eyes dark and infinite, filled with silent forests and deep ancient roots.

"All wars are mine," she said softly. "I birthed them all."

She raised her hand, and Icelus fell to his knees, his robes pooling around him like mist collapsing into dew. His eyes rolled back, and he slumped forward, dream-mist curling softly across the marble floor around his still form.

Kratos growled low in his chest, forcing his fist downwards with a roar. Rhea turned to him fully, her expression still calm, though her eyes burned faintly with quiet green light.

"Kratos," she whispered, her voice edged with sadness. "You were born of my blood... do not force me to bury you."

Kratos’s massive arm trembled, every muscle straining against the invisible force gripping his wrist. Veins bulged across his forearm as he snarled, his iron-dark eyes narrowing.

"I serve Hera," he spat. "Her will... binds me."

Rhea stepped forward, the wildflowers blooming around her feet with each silent stride. She reached up and pressed her palm lightly against his broad chest. For a brief moment, Kratos froze. His eyes flickered faintly with something softer beneath the rage – grief, exhaustion, something ancient and forgotten.

Then the force around his wrist tightened, forcing his fist open. Rhea’s fingers pressed deeper against his chest.

"You serve the world before all else," she whispered. "Remember who you are."

Kratos’s breath hitched. His knees buckled as he sank to the floor, his massive frame slumping forward, shoulders trembling with silent sobs he refused to let escape his lips. The vines receded from his arms, falling back into the cracked marble with faint, rustling sighs.

Metis stood unmoving, watching quietly as Rhea lowered her hand from Kratos’s chest. Her lavender robes whispered softly as she stepped forward, bowing her head slightly to the elder Titaness.

"Thank you," Metis said, her voice calm, though her eyes glimmered faintly with quiet relief.

Rhea did not reply. She turned, sweeping her moss-green robes around her ankles as she walked to where Phobos still struggled against the vines binding him. She lowered herself to his level, her pale hair drifting across his flushed face.

"You have always delighted in blood," she whispered softly, brushing her fingers across his forehead. "But blood is life... not death."

Phobos’s eyes widened. For the first time in centuries, his grin faded. Tears welled silently in his dark eyes, though he did not look away. Rhea touched his cheek lightly before rising again. frёeweɓηovel_coɱ

The hall was silent but for the quiet hiss of vines retreating into the cracked marble. Thin green shoots remained behind, curling around the fallen guards, their wounds now sealed by bark and blossom.

Bia stood unmoving, her body locked in place by the single vine curling around her ankles. Her sharp eyes flicked towards Rhea, unblinking.

"Release me," she whispered. "My life... is hers."

Rhea studied her for a long moment, sadness flickering across her calm face.

"No life belongs to another," she said softly.

With a faint flick of her wrist, the vine unwound. Bia collapsed to her knees, gasping as if surfacing from deep water. She bowed her head low, black hair falling around her face.

Metis stepped forward, folding her hands before her robe.

"What now?" she asked quietly, her gaze flicking between Kratos, Bia, and Phobos.

Rhea looked at her, her eyes dark and infinite. "Now... you rule. And I return to my silence."

Metis’s lips curved faintly. "Will you watch us?"

"Always," Rhea whispered.

She turned and walked back through the shattered bronze doors. Flowers bloomed in her footsteps, curling across the marble floor in soft white and pale violet. The thin morning sun spilled through the broken doorway, casting long shadows across the throne room floor.

Metis turned to Kratos, who knelt silent and unmoving at her feet. She reached out and touched his bowed head lightly.

"Rise," she said softly. "I will not punish loyalty... even when it is given to another."

Kratos lifted his head slowly, his iron-dark eyes flickering with silent gratitude. He rose to his feet, towering over her, but said nothing. Bia moved to stand behind him, silent as always, her sharp eyes now softened with quiet shame.

Phobos pushed himself to his knees, his grin gone, his dark eyes wide and trembling as he stared at the thin vines retreating into the cracked marble.

Icelus remained slumped where he fell, dream-mist drifting quietly around his sleeping form.

Metis turned from them all, her lavender robes sweeping across the marble floor as she walked to the high throne. She sat down lightly, folding her hands in her lap, her gaze calm and unblinking as she looked out across the silent hall.

Outside, the sun rose higher above Olympus, washing the marble towers in pale gold and quiet warmth. But deep within its silent halls, shadows shifted and fate twisted, binding gods in threads no one would see until it was far too late to unweave them.

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