The God of Thunder

Thea smiled with maternal warmth, and Selene and Eos gathered around as well. The goddesses gazed tenderly upon the infant cradled in golden fleece.

The child's cheeks were rosy and radiant—endearing beyond measure. Reluctantly, Thea returned the sleeping babe to Tyche's arms and softly asked, "What shall his name be?"

Tyche's expression was a tapestry of emotions—hesitation, sorrow, and resolve. After a pause, she answered, "Zeus."

Thea left behind many precious gems as gifts for the newborn Zeus.

Naiads bore milk and honey, nourishing the young god. The attendants, experienced from raising Kannas, moved with practiced efficiency.

No sooner had the venerable grandmother departed than Tethys arrived. She emerged from the rhythmic crashing of waves upon the shore, followed by her Oceanid daughters stepping forth from the sea's embrace. Rarely seen together, each daughter of Oceanus exuded her own unique charm, bearing offerings for their divine matron.

Electra, goddess of tranquil seas, delivered treasures from the ancient Pontus. Tyche accepted them graciously, then bade her sisters be led to the garden by the attendants.

After another flurry of arrivals and departures, the Isle of the Unseen finally settled into quiet once more.

Tyche summoned the mists anew, veiling the island from prying eyes, silently refusing all further visits.

Within the temple halls, attendants bustled about, organizing the deities' gifts with care. Phryne approached her mistress, reporting the tally of offerings. Tyche listened absentmindedly before dismissing the servants and rising to lift the slumbering Zeus from his crib.

She studied the infant's innocent face—uncertain whether to feel joy or astonishment. Who could have foreseen that this sleeping child would one day become the archetype of divine rule?

"Kannas never indulged in the excesses of idle gods… Will you grow to be different?"

She murmured, a faint amusement stirring within her. Like dragon-slayers who become dragons themselves, like liberators who become new oppressors—power held an intoxicating allure.

This Zeus, altered from his destined path, might yet walk a different road. Compared to his original fate—a life of struggle and isolation—he now stood supported by six Greater Powers. Fortune and misfortune danced ever hand in hand.

With the war between old and new gods looming, Tyche naturally chose the side fated to triumph—the Olympians. As Zeus's foster mother, she would earn his respect and live in comfort. With Helios's aid in shaping his form, the Radiant Lineage would remain unchallenged. Even Gaia would weigh her actions carefully, mindful of the future king's reaction.

"I am sorry, my child. Perhaps my love is not pure… but I will bear the duty of guiding and protecting you."

Gently, she stroked Zeus's golden curls, her voice heavy with solemnity.

Unaware of his mother's inner turmoil, the infant stirred, awakened by her voice. He swatted at her arm with tiny fists, wailing in hunger.

A chuckle escaped Tyche, her somber thoughts lifting. With a shake of her head, she returned him to his cradle and summoned the attendants to feed him.

Iris entered behind the servants, cautiously approaching her mistress. "My Lady, Kannas has not returned in many days."

Tyche paused briefly but replied evenly, "I know."

Leaving the Rainbow Goddesses to watch over Zeus, she called upon the Furies to bring forth her falcon-drawn chariot. Guided by the winds, she descended into the forests below, calling gently for her eldest son. After a moment's hesitation, the reluctant wind god emerged from behind a tree, silently joining his mother.

Tyche did not scold him. Gently, she removed a leaf from his hair, just as she always had. "It is time to return home, Kannas."

His defiant posture softened slightly as he lowered his gaze and followed beside her.

The falcons soared above, breaking the silence only when Kannas finally spoke. "I'm sorry, Mother."

Tyche met his eyes with calm tenderness. "You need not apologize, my son. But you forgot to give your gift. The nymphs have already passed your golden fleece to Zeus."

A soft laugh escaped him. Tyche loosened the reins and leaned forward, placing a kiss upon his brow. "Kannas, my love for you does not wane with time."

He turned his face away, a faint blush on his cheeks, his stubbornness dissolving completely.

Back on the Isle, Kannas regained his usual energy, eagerly tugging at his mother to see his little brother.

Tyche lifted Zeus from his crib and placed him in Kannas's arms. The elder god peered down curiously at the younger, who responded instantly with a slap.

The thunder god wrinkled his nose at the scent of wind, squirming in protest. With a sigh, Tyche reclaimed him, the baby letting out a few soft cries before nestling into his mother's arms and drifting back to sleep.

From a helpless infant in a cradle to a toddler taking his first steps—Zeus grew at an astonishing rate. Under his brother's guidance, he quickly matured into a youth capable of riding wolves and tending flocks alongside the nymphs. The island echoed with the joyful shouts of two brothers.

As time passed, Zeus revealed extraordinary talents. In his youth, his strength surpassed all expectations—shattering boulders many times his size with ease. His playful romps through the woods nearly toppled the sacred trees of the nymphs more than once.

Arrogant and unrestrained, the boy remained indifferent to reprimands. When the exasperated nymphs finally sought help, Tyche administered a firm punishment. Crying bitterly, Zeus begged forgiveness. Amidst the nymphs' stifled laughter, the storm god spent a brief yet blissful childhood.

Peace on the island shattered with the arrival of dolphins bearing news. Thalassa's messenger brought word, and Tyche hastened to the underwater temple.

Tethys, visibly anxious, exhaled in relief upon seeing her daughter. Clutching Tyche's arm tightly, she said, "Dione has sensed strange movements in the deep. A deity born from the lost power of the former Sky God is soon to emerge!"

From the temple stepped a goddess with white hair and pale eyes—unfamiliar, yet unmistakably kin. Her icy locks shimmered like frost. Tyche knew at once—this was Dione, the Ice Sea Goddess.

Calm and detached, Dione spoke. "The unrest among abyssal beasts drew my attention. Pontus requires my aid to quell the chaos—and in return, he offers me dominion over surrounding waters."

Tyche pondered for a moment, then asked suddenly, "Where is this newborn deity now?"

"In the northern ice-sea."

Dione turned her pale gaze upon Tyche. "Will you reclaim that fragment of sky-divinity?"

Tyche shook her head. "Pontus has infused it with oceanic essence. That stolen sky-power is no longer pure. At the very least, this new god cannot wield it to claim dominion over the skies."

The Ice Sea Goddess gave a slow, expressionless nod before dissolving her avatar and departing.

Tyche turned to soothe the ever-anxious Tethys. "Mother, do not fret for me. No other god may rival my command over the heavens. So long as the world still requires the Crystal Sphere, I shall remain unshaken."

"I am Fate herself, and fate tells me this new god poses no threat. Pontus will seek to grant him dominion over the sea—an opportunity too perfect to ignore! I offer foam and tide as price—ask him to sever the dominion of tsunamis from Poseidon's grasp."

Tethys considered her daughter's words carefully. "The domain of foam and tides can only support a Weak-God's power. Would Pontus truly accept such an exchange?"

"He seeks dominion over the oceans merely to deceive the eyes of others. Weakened as he is, stripped of half his divinity, Pontus can no longer dominate the Oceanid line. He must yield to our terms—I know he will."

As expected, when Tethys cautiously approached Pontus with Tyche's proposal, the ancient sea-god accepted at once.

Four oceanic wills tore through the domain of Poseidon. The primordial essence of the sea weighed their demands—and yielded. A fractured dominion over tsunamis appeared in Tyche's palm.

Swift as the tides, the goddess returned to the Isle of the Unseen, bestowing the broken power upon Kannas. His dominion over calamities swelled—but though potent, it still fell short of breaking into Intermediate Divinity.

Worry clouded Tyche's mind. Gaea, ever watchful and wary, would never relinquish the dominion of earthquakes so easily. That path was closed to her. And without a solution before war's onset, her son's safety could not be assured.

She even began to regret making her son the god of disasters. Previously, granting him full command over the sky might have sufficed—but the looming threats of Aether and Hemera had made such a step impossible. The advent of the Crystal Sphere had raised the bar for any successor to the Sky Dominion.

Sitting on the shore, she sighed heavily, lost in thought—until the moon's passage across the sky stirred inspiration within her.

Tartarus!

The abyss that gnawed ceaselessly upon the land bore effects not unlike earthquakes themselves. Perhaps, through its aid, she might finally seize the dominion of tremors!

Without hesitation, she opened a portal into the abyss, laying her request before Tartarus. The primordial god gave his assent.

Before Tyche could rejoice, a vast shadow stretched before her—a hand, open and waiting. Emotion, he demanded. Payment in feeling.

A confident smile curved Tyche's lips. She knew exactly what to offer.

Returning to the rift, she found Nyx's children already established in their dwellings. They had linked nearby caverns, expanding their space manifold.

With a wave of her scepter—imbued with Tartarus's authority—she claimed dominion over two adjacent, uninhabited chambers. Channeling her Temperature Dominion, she flooded them with extremes—one searing with relentless heat, the other piercing with eternal frost.

Calling upon the laws of existence, she wove purity from lunar essence and serenity from darkness, shaping something entirely new—Purgatory.

Souls would enter this realm, suffering until their sins were purified. Their emotions, stripped away, would nourish the abyss. The cleansed spirits would return to the source, reborn—no longer requiring the chaotic purification of the original cycle.

The cosmic laws accepted her vision. Four new dominions—Pain, Suffering, Punishment, and Purgatory —were bestowed upon her.

The wandering souls of the Golden Race, guided by divine law, arrived in droves.

At last, her creation functioned as intended. Torrents of emotion poured into the abyss, feeding its endless hunger.

Satisfied, Tartarus withdrew an Earthquake Dominion from the depths of his being and placed it in Tyche's hands before vanishing into the void.

Relief washed over her. This power, strong enough to reach Intermediate Divinity, completed her son's dominion over disaster—the final piece of his ascension.

Hypnos and Thanatos emerged before her, having waited until Tartarus's presence had faded. Too many times had they been forced to face the abyss's crushing weight—this time, they had barely dared to appear.

"We would appreciate," Hypnos murmured uneasily, "a prior warning next time. My siblings were greatly unsettled by Tartarus's presence. None wish to repeat the experience."

Tyche, radiant with gratitude, replied, "My dear Hypnos, thank you for your honesty. If it eases your minds, I would gladly extend an invitation to Lady Nyx herself—to reside here permanently. I believe Tartarus would welcome an alliance with her."

The twins exchanged glances before fixing her with a solemn stare.

Thanatos voiced their suspicion. "What is it you know?"

Tyche meant every word. With warm sincerity, she invited them, "Come, see my Purgatory first. I have an idea—one I believe would benefit both Nyx and herself."

After a moment's hesitation, Hypnos nodded and followed her alone.

Within the purgatorial halls, the souls of the Golden Race writhed in torment—scorched by fire, frozen by ice—until their impurities were burned away, leaving only purified essence to return to the Source.

Hypnos observed closely, noting the differing degrees of suffering. "Lady Tyche," he asked curiously, "why do some suffer more than others? Is it because they once worshipped you?"

"No," Tyche answered honestly. "Purgatory is impartial. Each soul bears the pain fitting for the sins they carried in life. Some held more goodness than malice—thus, their torment is lessened."

He pressed further. "Even those without malice must suffer?"

Tyche smiled gently. "Truly untainted souls are rare. Those few who possess such purity bypass Purgatory altogether. By the will of the cosmos, they are reborn as spirits—eternal attendants of the gods."