Tides of Fate

Chapter One: Prophecy

Apollo's golden eyes gleamed with a mix of exhaustion and urgency as he stood before the Council of Gods.
A hollow remnant of its once former glory, little could be found of the mighty clouds and rays of light that once bathed the city of Olympus.
Now, it resembled a fallen ruin with moments of otherworldly secrets.
The war between the humans and the Gods had left them scarred, their numbers dwindled to a mere ten. The once-mighty pantheon now teetered on the brink of collapse.
"Siblings, I have seen the threads of fate," Apollo began, his voice laced with gravity. "A mortal woman, Chrysa, and her son Theodoros, hold the key to our rebirth. They are the catalysts for our strengths restoration."
Zeus's brow furrowed, his stormy blue eyes narrowing. "What makes them so special?" His voice rumbled through the halls, his distrust of humans still evident, despite his deep-seated love for them.
Apollo's gaze drifted as if beholding a distant vision. "Chrysa's lineage is tied to Eros and her son...Theodoros's fate is intertwined with the seas."
Poseidon's interest was piqued, and he leaned forward to listen.
Athena, choosing not to sit, paced for a moment. "What good does that do us? If she holds no power and he is-"
Apollo's stare cut her off, a blaze of power in his eyes. "They need guidance and protection." He turned to Zeus, his voice lowering. "Their powers are there, brother. We just have to help them."
Hera gave a noise of disagreeing, drawing Apollo's eye to her as she lounged on a dilapidated chaise.
"Help them?" She echoed, her tone surprised. "Do you forget who tore our very walls down?" She gestured around to the hall. Apollo didn't look away from her.
"With their help, our strength can be restored. The child, Theodoros, I foresee great strength, a leader who will answer our call. He will help us." He glanced at Poseidon, unsure if to reveal the depths of the visions he saw, or if fate should truly be left alone. Deciding, he added. "He will be a great soldier and commander, one who would do well to receive our help if we intend to survive."
Hera narrowed her eyes at him, but said nothing else, turning to look at Zeus.
Apollo turned to plead again, his voice lowering with the prophecies of their fate. "Please, brother... Of all the humans, a child of Eros still lives." He glanced at Aphrodite, a moment of sadness touching her eyes for the fallen God of Love, her son. Apollo continued, beseeching to Zeus. "The strength...the power within these mortals is enough; we just need to aid them."
Poseidon saw the glimmer of hope in Zeus's eyes, but he remained silent for too long.
Poseidon was not one to wait, not anymore.
He looked at Apollo, raising his voice enough to be heard by the remaining Gods. "I will protect them, ensure their safety."
Apollo's eyes snapped back into focus, meeting with Poseidon, a hint of warning in his voice. "Be cautious, Poseidon. The path ahead is treacherous. The humans will not give up their quest for power easily, do well to remain hidden."
Poseidon nodded once, settling back to listen to the remainder of the reports.
Statues were destroyed, temples of worship were ransacked, and their worshippers were killed, weakening the Gods.
Those who still held hope, who still prayed to them, gave them strength.
As the council dispersed, Poseidon's thoughts turned to Chrysa and Theodoros.
He had heard the woman's prayers some years ago, asking to protect a loved one who was already lost to them.
He still heard her, often for the sake of her child who adored the sea.
He had not heard from her for some time, but he knew it wouldn't be long.
He would find them, protect them, and mentor the young boy.
He sought out Apollo, attempting to learn where best to start his search.
Apollo, unable to see such details, revealed the tendrils that fate allowed him to glimpse.
In a small coastal town, there would be the soft words of a cook named Chrysa and her son Theodoros, with a curiosity that rivalled the gods and an explorative spirit that hinted at his knowledge of the magic around them.
Poseidon returned to the mortal world, disguising himself as a ship commander named Phoebus.
For some months, he walked a thin line, surrounded by those who sought him and his kin dead, following trails of whispers that led nowhere for the God.
Until he caught word of a woman cook in a coastal city not far from where Poseidon had made port.
Through the tides and waves, he felt the glimmer of magic that touched the shores of Delphi, the wonder of a child's spirit.
In two weeks, he would be on those very shores.
Casting a glance to the horizon behind him from the helm of his ship, Phoebus drew a deep breath.
The word of another attack on Olympus was swirling, humans gathering to discuss and argue. Poseidon only hoped he would have enough time to save them.
Even if the humans hated the Gods, they were two sides of the same coin.
Without one, the other would fall into darkness. They needed the human's love as much as the humans needed the Gods' cruelty.
Releasing his breath, the sails fluttered, the tide swelling almost unnaturally and aiding the ship in its cast-off; Phoebus turned his eyes to the new horizon it sailed towards.
The last hope for the Gods, and, as only Apollo knew, for Poseidon's cold heart.