Blood Of Poseidon

IX. The Decree

The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting an amber glow across the marble peaks of Mount Olympus. The towering structures, golden and majestic, stood against the sky like ancient sentinels, their surfaces gleaming with an otherworldly light. The sky was clear, the air crisp and cool, with only the faintest hint of a breeze to disturb the tranquility. But beneath this serene facade, a sense of dread lurked, creeping into the hearts of those who dwelled on this mountain of the gods. Inside the Grand Council Hall, the gods gathered, each more solemn than usual. The hall itself was a marvel—an immense circular chamber with a domed ceiling that reflected the cosmos, stars twinkling in an endless night. The floor was a mosaic of scenes from the gods' victories over the eons, but today, even the victories felt hollow. The atmosphere in the Olympian Throne Hall was heavy with tension. Twelve thrones, each adorned with symbols representing the mightiest gods of Greek mythology, stood in a semicircle around a gleaming marble table. The air crackled with power, a palpable reminder of the divine beings that occupied the room. Though they were immortal and had seen the rise and fall of countless empires, there was an unspoken understanding among them that something was shifting, a storm was brewing that even they could not ignore.

Zeus, the king of the gods, stood at the head of the assembly, his expression as stormy as the skies he commanded. His eyes, blue and piercing like the heart of a thunderstorm, scanned the faces of those before him. To his right sat Hera, her regal composure unwavering, though her gaze was sharp with concern. To his left, Poseidon's face was a mask of controlled fury, the ocean's rage simmering beneath his calm exterior. Around the hall, the other Olympians took their places—Artemis, tall and fierce, her silver eyes reflecting the light of the crescent moon above; Athena, ever vigilant, her mind racing through strategies and contingencies; Apollo, unusually quiet, the light of the sun dimmed in his presence. The air was thick with unspoken fears, and the gods could feel it—a storm was coming, one that would challenge the very foundations of their power.

"The Titans are rising," Zeus began, his voice resonating through the hall. "Their forces are growing stronger with each passing day, and it is only a matter of time before they launch an all-out assault on Olympus. We cannot afford to underestimate them." Beside him, Hera, his queen, sat with a serene yet stern expression. "It's not just Olympus that is at risk, Zeus," she said. "The mortal world is already feeling the effects of their resurgence. The demigods at Camp Half-Blood are being drawn into this war, whether they are ready or not." Ares, the god of war, grinned savagely, his eyes alight with the prospect of battle. "Let them come," he growled. "We will crush them as we did before. The Titans are nothing but relics of the past." "Do not be so hasty, Ares," Athena interjected, her voice calm but filled with authority. The goddess of wisdom and strategy leaned forward, her grey eyes sharp as ever. "This is not the same war that was fought millennia ago. The Titans have learned from their defeat, and they are more cunning than ever. We must be prepared for any tactic they might employ." Artemis nodded in agreement. The moon goddess's expression was grim, her thoughts undoubtedly on the safety of her domains. "They've already struck at Camp Half-Blood," She said. "If we do not act soon, the camp will fall, and with it, any hope of defending the mortal world." "Which brings us to the matter at hand," Zeus said, his tone brooking no argument. "The attacks on the camp must be stopped, and we must determine how the Titans have been able to bypass the camp's defenses." Athena spoke, "The attacks on the camp are a sign that the Titans are testing our defenses. They are probing for weaknesses, seeking to weaken our forces before launching their full-scale assault." "It's more than just a test," Apollo, the god of Sun, added, his usually cheerful demeanor subdued. "The visions I've been receiving... they are filled with blood and fire. The camp will not withstand another attack like the last. We must act quickly." Hermes, the messenger god, spoke up next, his voice tinged with concern. "The demigods are strong, but they are still children compared to the forces they are facing. If the Titans continue to target the camp, it won't be long before it falls." Hephaestus, the god of fire and the forge, frowned, his hands clasped together as he considered the situation. "The defenses of the camp are strong, forged with the best magic and powered by an endless source of magic. But if the Titans have found a way to bypass them..." "Then they must have help from within," Artemis finished, her voice cutting through the murmurs of agreement. "There is no other explanation. Someone inside the camp is aiding the enemy."