Demeter rose from the ground itself, her form wreathed in wheat stalks and autumn leaves. The goddess of harvest had watched her divine family fall, and her grief had turned to something primal and terrible. The very marble began cracking as roots and vines pushed through, transforming the pristine temple into a wild grove.
"You would destroy the natural order!" she accused, her voice carrying the rumble of earthquakes and the whisper of growing grain. The air filled with pollen that could choke mortals and spores that could drive men mad. "Without the gods, mortals will starve! The seasons will fail! The very earth will become barren!"