Scene I – The Cracks in the Marble
The wind on Mount Olympus howled colder than usual.
Where the divine halls once shimmered with eternal glory, cracks now spiderwebbed across the once-immaculate marble. The sky above churned with unpredictable storms, thunder clapping like the rage of a forgotten era.
Atop the highest terrace, where the gods often sat in idle debate, the thrones stood mostly vacant.
Only two figures remained.
Athena stood with her back straight, hands clasped behind her as she watched the clouds roil. Her silvery armor gleamed despite the storm, though the usual serenity in her expression had been replaced with concern.
Across from her, Hephaestus labored over a celestial forge embedded in the very bones of the mountain. Sparks danced like starlight as he hammered a golden plate etched with inscriptions lost to mortal scholars.
"You feel it too?" Athena asked.
Hephaestus did not stop hammering. "Even my forge trembles."
