The Alliance of Night

The workings of Purgatory left Hypnos in awe. After consulting with her mother, Nyx readily descended in avatar form.

Her eyes—deep as midnight pools—gleamed with quiet wisdom. Draped in flowing black robes that only enhanced her ethereal beauty, she carried herself with the grace of primordial stillness.

Tyche led her to the river's edge, where Styx silently emerged from the waters. Cupping a handful of liquid in her hands, Tyche gestured toward its surface. "Behold, Lady Nyx."

Once ordinary, the river now shimmered with divine enchantment. Souls reflected upon its surface could see the memories they clung to most dearly—their deepest regrets and unshakable attachments. Those unable to release their burdens remained trapped, unable to proceed beyond this threshold.

Nyx observed with keen interest, her lips curving into a knowing smile. "A truly ingenious design, Tyche. Your ascent to Greater Power is no accident."

Turning to the goddess, she asked softly, "And what would you have me do?"

Tyche had already diverted a tributary. Meeting Nyx's gaze with calm assurance, she explained, "Styx can sever a soul's attachments—but the extraction of emotional essence is far too slow. I ask that you dwell here permanently, wielding your power over forgetfulness."

Mnemosyne, goddess of memory, might have been the more obvious choice—her dominion could erase recollection entirely. Yet she leaned ever toward Gaia's will, and Tyche dared not risk betrayal. One whisper to the Earth Mother, and all would be exposed.

Nyx, however, was different. Her Primordial domain over oblivion served the same purpose, and with the promise of harvested emotions as reward, the nascent Underworld gained a powerful guardian.

Nyx did not refuse. In fact, she brought her consort—Erebus, the God of Darkness.

Erebus, though ancient, remained less individuated than his wife. To Tyche, he seemed almost lesser than Tartarus himself—his presence dim, his awareness sluggish, eyes vacant until Nyx drew near.

Taking his hand, she stepped into the newly formed river. The once-clear waters darkened, infused with the essence of shadow.

Now known as the Rivers of Obsession and Forgetfulness, they encircled the realm of the dead. Souls passed through their currents, stripped of both memory and emotion before reaching Purgatory—a process vastly accelerating purification.

Relief settled upon Tyche's shoulders. With three Primordials now entwined in this endeavor, even Gaia would hesitate to interfere. She sincerely hoped the Earth Mother would turn a blind eye; Tartarus and Nyx would not relinquish such a bountiful source of feeling so easily. A war among the Primordials was a price none wished to pay.

Silently, Styx approached, offering a golden vial filled with distilled emotion—liquid currency to all but Gaia herself.

Smiling with confidence, the Goddess of Necessity murmured, "There's no need for worry now. We've drawn three Primordials into our fold. The Underworld cannot be undone—three beneficiaries will ensure it remains untouched."

Yet Tyche could not share Styx's certainty. "The only unknown variable remaining is Eros, the Primordial of Love. Soon, I must meet Aphrodite herself. These emotions you've gathered shall serve as my introduction—I only hope she does not bar me at the gates."

Returning to the Isle of the Unseen, Tyche beheld Kannas and Zeus playing upon the sea's surface, watched closely by the Furies.

She did not interrupt their mirth, instead landing beside the three avenging goddesses.

They bowed reverently. Tyche smiled, bidding them rise. "Alecto, Megaera, Tisiphone."

"We await your command," they responded in solemn unison.

From the dominions granted during the founding of Purgatory, she withdrew the powers of Pain, Suffering, and Punishment. Unlike the neutral Dominion of Purgatory itself, these radiated a deep crimson hue—echoing with anguished cries, unsettling even to her own senses. They were neither useless nor overly potent—easily maintained at Weak-God levels—but their nature repelled her.

Perfect for the Furies.

With the coming of the Silver Race's demise and the Bronze's inevitable rise, these loyal spirits finally found their purpose.

Nyx's children lacked the strength to manage Purgatory independently, leaving them little choice but to accept Tyche's oversight. Yet their power was insufficient—inevitably overlooked.

"Daughters of Uranus, Erinnyes of Vengeance! You have served me faithfully. This is your due reward."

Overjoyed, the Furies accepted their new dominions and departed swiftly. Watching her sons play in the distance, Tyche felt an odd pang—as if time had begun slipping beyond her grasp. Shaking off the sudden melancholy, she called out to them.

Kannas summoned a small tidal wave, carrying the growing Zeus forward. The golden-haired youth laughed joyfully, urging his brother to go faster.

At their mother's summons, the two leapt ashore, shaking seawater from their limbs. Kannas's gaze immediately locked onto the trembling glow in Tyche's hand—the Dominion of Earthquakes.

He took it eagerly, feeding it into his divine flame. His Dominion of Calamities trembled in response, yearning for completion.

"My child," Tyche said gently, "ascending to Greater Power is not so simple. My own ascension was made possible because the world required the Crystal Sphere. Helios succeeded because he defined the boundaries of time itself."

"What service can you offer to the world and its laws? That is the key to true elevation."

She turned her gaze to Zeus. The boy gazed back with wide, identical brown eyes—too young yet to understand the weight behind her words.

Zeus's Dominion of Thunder held great promise—effortlessly climbing to Intermediate ranks, even showing potential for Greater Divinity. Already, before adulthood, he neared the peak of Weak-Godhood, poised to ascend before maturity.

Tyche had no wish to favor one son over another. Drawing from her Sky Dominion, she split forth the aspects of storm clouds and rainfall. Her Climate Dominion, interwoven with sky, wind, and lightning, had repeatedly stirred the heavens' essence. With the advent of the Crystal Sphere, the Sky had received further investment from cosmic law.

A premonition stirred within her—perhaps she too would soon tread the path Rhea and Phoebe had taken.

The number of Primordials the world could sustain was limited—the stronger the origin, the greater the number. Tyche's contributions to existence could not be ignored. The impartial laws of balance, having gathered sufficient essence, would crown her in time, granting her the mantle she had long deserved.

"Zeus," Tyche said gently, her hand resting upon his curls, "it is time you took up the mantle of climate, and prepare for your own ascension."

Her voice was warm, filled with maternal affection. "The Dominion of Climate was the foundation of my rise to Intermediate Power. I entrust it to you—not as a burden, but as a path to strength."

She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his brow.

Zeus accepted the fragmented dominions of storm clouds and rainfall from his mother's hands. A flicker of tension crossed his face as his Thunder Dominion pulsed in response.

"Mother," he asked carefully, "won't this weaken your power?"

A tender smile graced Tyche's lips. "Not anymore. Climate no longer defines me—it belongs to you now, as lightning does to your soul."

Reassured by her words, Zeus surrendered to the call of his divinity, allowing the essence of climate to merge with his being.

Before Tyche's approving gaze, the Dominion of Climate reformed—no longer an extension of her own will, but a force reborn under Zeus's command. It sank into his divine flame, igniting a surge of power.

His form shifted instantly—he rose taller, his youthful features sharpening into maturity. The sky above darkened, veiled in crackling storm clouds, heralding the arrival of a new sovereign over weather and tempest.

Across the divine realms, gods turned their eyes toward the Isle of the Unseen, murmuring among themselves at the growing might of the Sky Lineage. Their gazes lingered enviously on the mist-veiled land where two sons of Tyche now stood as rising stars.

Yet before the celebration could settle, the winds howled.

The sea churned violently, its surface twisting into spiraling vortexes. From beneath the waves, Tyche's oceanic sisters emerged, watching in awe as whirlwinds tore through the waters.

Tethys, deep within her abyssal halls, remained still—allowing Kannas his moment of dominance.

The storm swelled, birthing towering tsunamis that crashed against the shores. Forest spirits trembled in fear as the earth quaked beneath them. Frost crept across scorched lands, while drought followed in the wake of raging fires. The world itself seemed to gasp under the onslaught of calamity.

Only when Gaia stirred did the chaos cease.

At last, the full Dominion of Calamities revealed its terrifying potential. The cosmic laws observed in silence, weighing the impact of this newborn power.

Kannas raised his voice to the heavens, proclaiming:

"I am the Firstborn of Fate, the God of Uncertain Disaster! Let all who walk the paths of life beware—for I strike without warning, and none may predict my coming!"

The silent laws acknowledged his declaration.

Forced to evade disaster, mortals evolved—those who survived grew stronger than those who perished. This brutal selection found favor in the balance of existence.

Thus, the Dominion of Misfortune was bestowed upon him—a chaotic, writhing gift that sent ripples through the Fates themselves.

Tyche herself paused, sensing the shift. The Three Fates felt the birth of a new deity—one who embodied unpredictability and fate's cruel whims.

The whispers among the gods ceased. In the instant of Kannas's ascension, even the most arrogant deities averted their gazes.

The Primordial Forces rejoiced, pouring raw essence into his divinity, fueling both his power and his flame.

With radiant pride, Tyche welcomed her son home. Alongside the Furies, she celebrated the arrival of the Plaguebringer.

Kannas's ascension bore unexpected boons. The emergence of the Dominion of Misfortune strengthened its associated fields, granting Tyche dominion over ill-fated omens. Meanwhile, the Dominion of Purgatory split anew, birthing Retribution—an aspect passed quietly into Styx's care.

The Furies would serve as her enforcers in the Underworld—thus, they too must wield the tools of judgment.

The rise of a third Greater Power sent shockwaves through the divine order. That a child so newly born had already surpassed nearly all second-generation Titans was a bitter truth many struggled to swallow.

From the Radiant Lineage and Oceanid Dynasty alike, Greater Powers arrived unbidden at the Isle of the Unseen. Even Okeanos and Hyperion, long absent from mortal affairs, made their appearances—bearing lavish gifts for the newly crowned God of Catastrophe.

In stark contrast, Mount Olympus remained eerily silent.

The royal couple had not been seen in ages. Themis and Phanes exchanged uneasy glances, uncertain how to proceed.

Krios, the god of growth, offered a suggestion. "Perhaps Eurynome should seek out Tyche? She and Helios have both held grand feasts for their sons' ascensions. Surely, the Goddess of Fate would not deny us counsel."

Mnemosyne, ever agreeable, nodded in support.

After deliberation, the four agreed—let the wives of the male deities approach Tyche first. Given their shared lineage as Oceanids, they reasoned, perhaps she would be more inclined to listen.

Amidst the revelry on the Isle, Tyche excused herself under the guise of welcoming her kin. Eurybia and Eurynome had arrived, offering their congratulations before subtly broaching the subject.

Eurynome spoke carefully, relaying Krios's message. "The rulers of Olympus hope you are not offended by the King and Queen's absence. They have not left their temple in some time."

Tyche masked her knowledge with mild disapproval. "I hold no ill will. Kannas's ascension is a joyous occasion—why let such trivial matters cloud our celebration?"

The two goddesses relaxed, interpreting her annoyance as natural. After all, Helios's feast had ended in awkwardness due to the royal couple's interruption. Now, for them not to appear at all? It was difficult not to see it as disdain.

Klymene, ever gentle, reassured her sister. "The ruling gods will welcome Kannas warmly. The birth of a Greater Power is not something to be ignored."

Indeed. And therein lay the danger.

This was no mere newcomer—his parents were Greater Powers themselves. His grandparents? Rulers of the heavens and light. Seven Greater Deities in one bloodline—a force formidable enough to shake Olympus to its core.

Should tensions arise, the very foundations of Mount Olympus could crumble.

Thus, the four resident Olympians tread carefully, eager to mend the damage caused by the royal couple's absence. If Kannas refused to attend the banquet citing insult, the authority of Zeus himself would suffer irreparable harm—inviting mockery from the lesser gods and emboldening rival factions.

Every step had to be measured. Every word chosen with care.

For the age of the old gods was waning—and the storm had only just begun.