Chapter 26: Unforeseen
Oh, Hypnos? I know him; I mean, who doesn't? He made quite a name for himself in the cosmos and beyond. My brothers and sisters abhor his existence with passion, but I like the kid. He is the dreamer who doesn't know when to give up. That is something I can relate to.
—Gabriel, the Archangel of Revelation, and the Messenger of God.
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"In all chaos, there is a path; in all disorder, there is a secret order."
Metis, the Titaness of the Wise Council, began sonorously. Her tone carried such steel that she swayed the council to her will, fixing their attention solely on her and her alone.
She stood to the left of Hypnos, her front facing the silver table that glided with projections depicting previous battles of Titanomachy with the grimness of reality.
There was chaos in it all, flowing with each strike, clash, and struggle, bringing doom and annihilation onto the glorious world.
The Golden Humans—the creations of the sons of Iapetus—were incinerated in the bloody embers of divine war.
Prometheus cast a forlorn glance at the end of the golden era. Epimetheus, his brother, patted his shoulders, comforting Prometheus, though his hands trembled slightly, which betrayed him.
The Golden Humans were their proud creations, and in recognition of their efforts, their father bestowed mortality on humanity. And they also bestowed on their creations aspects of their own personalities: Prometheus imparted cunningness, Epimethus bestowed guilelessness, Altas conferred fearlessness, and Menoetius endowed ruthlessness.
Some may argue that their blessings and gifts were essentially flaws that would hold humanity back in the future, and they would indeed be correct emotionally—Iapetus and his sons did grant flaws to humanity, but it was a necessary evil—to make humanity whole and ultimately different from the immortals.
But, like their own family, their humans were being ripped apart in the divine war, and they were powerless to stop it; even Prometheus, who was so determined to save their creations, was held back by the might of Destiny: "The golden age shall end; it is inevitable." That was the cruel whisper of the Crone, deciding the end of the era with mere words.
Except for a few, the other Immortals in the hall looked apathetically at the destruction caused by their war, and even those who were concerned were more worried about the damage to their domains than the humans burning away in the flames of their conflict.
Metis continued, taking in all of their reactions stoically. "War begets chaos." she waved her hand at the table, and the projections showed all the battles that were destroyed by chaos. "Many of our previous battles were tarnished by chaos. Titans and Gods would frequently enter other battlefields, drawn by worry and duty, bringing even more disorder with them, and the battle would finally end with no victor. Such scenarios dominate the majority of the fights that transpired during our divine war," she looked around, meeting the eyes of her compatriots gravely. "We must avoid this if we are to win the war."
The council turned their inquisitive yet solemn eyes, trailing the chaotic projections of their war.
Metis cleared her throat. "To do so, we must follow my first words—finding order in chaos." she paused, allowing her words to sink into their hearts. "It would be difficult but not unattainable. We, the Immortals, must each draw an enemy Titan at the same time, to different battlefields, and face them individually."
"This is a dangerous strategy." Rhea ascertained with a concerned expression on her face.
"Yes," Metis recognised severely. "But we have no option but to take the risk because everything—even our lives—is at stake in the coming battle." she came to a halt and looked around at her fellow immortals. "We have put everything on the line in the hope of victory."
The immortals immediately swayed in agreement, determination filling their hearts and fading the last of their fears and doubts.
"Hope…" Hestia spoke quietly, her gaze fixed on her empty hand.
"Again, hope, eh?" Demeter spoke softly.
"Not now, sister." Hestia chided and turned her gaze to Metis, ignoring the smiling Demeter.
Metis raised her hand to silence the gregarious hall. "In the coming battle, the Crooked One will employ a strategy similar to ours." She boldly ventured, surprising everyone.
"As if…." Hera snorted, dismissing her ridiculous claim. "Father revels in chaos."
"Indeed," Metis nodded, "but chaos will bring no victory. The Titan King is astute enough to recognize—"
"Still.." Hades stood by his sister. "We can't pin our hopes on his caprices."
"We're not going to," Metis asserted calmly in the face of their arguments. "I am merely presenting this as a certain possibility. The Titans will also want order, so our plan will be easier to implement, though alterations to it will still be required based on ensuing developments of the zonal battlefield." She paused before saying it definitively. "My point is, the Crooked One will want Order, but if things go south for him, he will not hesitate to turn to Chaos."
"At that point, we must do everything we can to keep the situation from devolving into his behest." The Titaness of Wisdom fixed her gaze on Themis. "Though this responsibility belongs to all of us, Themis, it will ultimately fall on your shoulders."
Themis stood up from her seat. "I will uphold Order in the coming war," she said emphatically. "After everyone has drawn the enemy to different parts of the world, I will impose a divine decree, metaphysically dividing the battlefields into different realms with my order," she posited.
"No," Hypnos said abruptly, surprising everyone. "Your order, Themis, will not be strong enough to accomplish this in the coming war. You would burn yourself in the process if you did so."
"But—" Themis wanted to argue, convinced of her own strength.
"Sit down." Hypnos interpreted, silencing her argument. "Metis will elaborate on my words. Hear her first."
Themis complied wordlessly and turned towards Metis.
Metis nodded to Hypnos, and then she expounded to the council. "The final battle will be unlike any other battle we've fought in Titanomachy. We have grown much stronger in this peaceful year, and so would have the Titans….." she paused for the heaviness to sink in. "So would have the Crooked One."
That was an unsettling prospect, causing a ripple of unease to spread throughout the council. Kronos was already insurmountable for them; imagine if he had grown even stronger.
"Worry not." A voice brimming with confidence resounded, easing the worries and concerns of the council. And everybody turned towards the source—the youngest son of Rhea.
"It makes no difference if Father has grown stronger in the last year." Zeus declared. "He will fall under my bolt regardless."
Hearing his proclamation, many sincerely believed it, which shocked themselves in their hearts. Then they immediately realised why it was so—there was no arrogance in his tone, only absolute and utter confidence in himself, which managed to infect them all.
Why was Zeus so sure?—the Immortals knew the answer, turning to look discreetly at the host at the head of the table—the source of his certainty came from the Primordial of Sleep.
Most of Olympus was already aware that Zeus was being specially trained by the Lord of Dream. And honestly, many felt secretly bitter at the blatant favouritism shown by their commander in arms.
Hypnos clearly felt the gazes directed at him. He sat back in his chair, not bothering to explain his 'alleged favouritism'.
Metis cleared her throat and motioned for Zeus, who had been exchanging glares with Poseidon, to continue.
Zeus averted his gaze from his envious brother and nodded to Metis with a slight smile. "The battle between me and my father will decide the fate of our war," he declared emphatically. "If I lose, then the war will ultimately end in the victory of Kronos."
The council was deafeningly silent in response to his words; no arguments or objections were raised because, as uncomfortable as it was, no one could deny the truth in his words.
In his heart, Zeus relished his hold on the council—power, he realised, was what ultimately mattered in the indifferent cosmos—and he continued with an assured tone. "And there is one thing that needs to be addressed about my destined battle." he turned towards Themis, the fair one, and addressed her queries in place of his love. "It cannot happen on earth, for my battle with my father would simply shatter the planet apart in the very first exchange of blows. My teacher rejected your proposal because your divine order is incapable of containing such chaos."
Themis took a minute to digest his words, which could be summarised in a simple manner—she was weak—but she still tried to argue her point weakly. "However, order must be enforced in the final war to avoid and deal with unforeseen developments, such as the one Metis mentioned."
"There will be," Hypnos stated unequivocally. "And, Themis, you will have another important role in the upcoming war."
Themis finally nodded, accepting his order, though her mind wandered with speculations about who would replace her, and it would be a lie to say she didn't feel leery about the whole thing; after all, order was her domain. But she tried to console herself by recalling her commander's final words.
"Zeus, sit down." Hypnos ordered. "And, Metis, start with the allocations."
"Teacher," Zeus asked immediately. "About my battlefield?"
Hypnos thoughtfully thrummed his armrest. "You shall draw Kronos into outer space between Mars and Jupiter, and that shall be the battlefield," he decreed.
Zeus nodded and took his seat confidently.
Metis, on the other hand, asked the question that everyone was thinking about. "But, Lord Hypnos, how are they going to fight in space? There is no gravity—"
"I'll take care of the space issues." Hypnos said. "Now, Metis, get started."
"Yes," Metis nodded, and she turned toward the council. "The next on our agenda is the allotments." she turned towards the Titan of Forethought. "Will you do the honour, Prometheus?"
Prometheus nodded lightly, standing up from his seat. "After careful and thorough analysis, Lord Hypnos, Metis, and I have already designated your adversaries for the final battles." he pointedly ignored the stares thrown at him and declared, "And the allotments are…" he waved his hand at the holographic table, unveiling the illustrated allotments to the immortals.
They read:
"Zeus, God of Lightning, and Kronos, Titan of Time."
"Hades, God of Darkness, and Altas, Titan of Endurance."
"Hera, Goddess of Marriage, and Krios, Titan of Stars."
"Demeter, Goddess of Harvest, and Koios, Titan of Knowledge."
"Helios, Titan of the Sun, and Hyperion, Titan of Light."
"Selene, Titaness of the Moon, and Iapetus, Titan of Mortality."
"Kratos, Titan of Strength, and Menoetius, Titan of Anger."
"Eos, Titaness of Dawn, and Lelantos, Titan of Air."
"Hecate, Goddess of Magic, and Perses, Titan of Destruction.."
Poseidon double-checked the allotments, but it was still the same—his name was nowhere to be found.
"Oh, look, brother." Zeus suddenly pointed out loudly, drawing everyone's attention. "Your name isn't on the list," he chuckled. "I wonder why…" he trailed off, letting the air carry his unspoken implications.
Poseidon shot a withering glare at Zeus but forced himself to turn towards the Titan of Forethought. "Prometheus," he said, suppressing his rage. "Surly, there had been a mishap."
"I assure you, there aren't any." Prometheus said, and he immediately continued, before Poseidon could explode. "Lord Hypnos has decided that you will lead the assault on Mount Othrys with Hecatoncheires."
Poseidon immediately cooled down, his rage bleeding out of himself, but he still shot a proud glare at Zeus, who merely shrugged it off.
"....In the final battle, Mount Othrys must be breached and shattered in order to destroy the symbol of the Titans and bring the golden age to an end." Prometheus continued quite serenely, his countenance stoic. "Of course, the fort of the Titans will be well guarded. Before heading to meet us on the battlefield, the Crooked One can leave some of his Titan brethren to guard it. At that juncture, improvisations will have to be made based on the developments, as there are too many uncertainties," he told the council. "You may be called upon to assist Poseidon at any time; always be prepared."
The council swayed in solemn agreement.
Prometheus finalised. "After I finish with the matter at hand, I will elaborate on our assault plan for Mount Othrys," he said, pointing to the battlefield projections. "Now let's get started on the battlefields—"
Just then, something completely unforeseen by everyone—including Hypnos—happened: a beam of light descended into the main hall of Olympus seemingly out of nowhere and exploded in a blinding radiance.
Hypnos rose from his seat and turned to radiance, raising his hand to prevent any rash retaliation from the immortals, for he felt no malice or hostility from radiance, but what truly pushed him to stop the immortals was the power he sensed emanating from the light—it felt unending in his perception, utterly surpassing his own might.
A man emerged from the light, his face like lightning, his eyes like torches of fire, and his arms and feet like bruised bronze, but these were not the most noticeable aspects of him; rather, six pairs of golden wings unveiled themselves dazzlingly from behind his back.
"Nice to meet you, Hypnos." The angelic being smiled lightly. "I am Gabriel, the Messenger."
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