The Past

In the floating city of Limnos, suspended high above the ever-changing world, Hephaestus stood within his forge. The air was thick with the scent of molten metal, embers danced like fireflies, and the rhythmic hammering of his tools echoed through the vast chamber.

Yet, today was different.

The world beneath had shifted. He could feel it. The very essence of the land had evolved. Beasts had grown stronger. Magic pulsed through the air like an invisible storm. The sea roared with new life, and even the sky itself had rewritten its own stars.

Hephaestus placed his hammer down, his normally unshaken hands trembling. He had always been a god of the forge, the master craftsman of Olympus. But now—something was calling to him.

It began as a whisper at the edges of his mind.

A feeling, a presence—no, a memory.

He closed his eyes, letting himself drift deeper into his own soul. And then, he saw it.

Not Olympus. Not the world of the gods.

But another place. Another time. Another life.

He saw fragments—the very ones that had fallen into this world.

He saw a sea of horrors, where monstrous entities swam through endless black waters.

He saw a sky filled with stars, histories written in constellations.

He saw a race of dragons, their king roaring in defiance against an unseen force.

He saw spirits of pure elements, whispering in a language beyond mortal comprehension.

And finally—he saw magic itself, a force so vast, so powerful, that it had reshaped the world in its entirety.

He remembered.

This was his world.

Or rather—the world of his past life.

Hephaestus gasped as he snapped back to reality, his body drenched in sweat. His mind reeled from the truth.

The fragments that had rained down upon the world—they were not simply foreign objects.

They were remnants of a world that had once existed.

A world that had died.

A world where he had lived before.

His memories were scattered, fragmented—just like the pieces of that world. But one truth burned within him now:

This world was becoming something new.

No longer was it bound by the old rules of Olympus. No longer was it just a battleground for gods and mortals.

It was evolving, reborn from the ashes of a forgotten past.

And he, Hephaestus, was no longer just a god of Olympus.

He was a witness to this grand transformation. A survivor of a world that no longer existed.

This was no longer just the world of Zeus, of Olympus, of old myths.

This was something greater.

And he would be the one to forge its future