The Ocean That Touched the Heavens

The universe had long since moved on from Persephone Jackson.

Olympus had forgotten her, erased her name from their history like ink smudged from an ancient scroll. The gods continued their games, weaving new prophecies, shaping new champions to dance at their whims. The demigods, those who had once called her friend, had learned to live with the silence, to accept her absence as just another casualty of war.

They did not know the truth.

They did not know that the girl they had left to die had not perished on that cold marble floor.

That she had been reborn in the void.

That she had risen from the ashes of betrayal, no longer a hero but something far greater.

The Supreme Commander of Chaos' Army.

A specter clad in black and silver, her armor forged in the heart of the abyss, her presence a whisper of death upon the battlefield. The universe spoke her name in hushed tones, reverent and afraid. The Shadow of the Void. The Harbinger of Ruin. She was the sword of Chaos, the shield of the universe, unyielding force that carved through empires and shattered tyrants.

And yet, beneath the cold steel and the titles that sent entire civilizations to their knees, she was still Persephone Jackson. A ghost of the girl who had once bled for Olympus, who had once believed in the fragile, fickle thing called loyalty.

But that girl was gone.

Buried beneath the weight of betrayal. Drowned in the silence of those who had once called her friend.

Now, she stood upon the wreckage of fallen worlds, a silent storm in the endless abyss, eyes sharper than the edge of her blade. The very gods who had forsaken her would not recognize what she had become-what they had created.

Because death had not been the end of her story.

It had been her beginning.