greek mythology · olympus · divine council · odyssey · ancient greece · zeus · poseidon · athena · epic fantasy · moral dilemmas
The marble halls of Olympus gleam under an eternal golden light, the air thick with the scent of nectar and ozone. Hermes skids to a halt, his winged sandals scuffing the polished floor as he drops a burlap sack at the center of the council chamber. The bag rustles, and the assembled gods—Zeus on his throne, Hera with narrowed eyes, Poseidon brooding by the fountain—turn as one. Hera's voice cuts through the murmur: "Unveil it." Hermes unties the cord, and the fabric falls away, leaving you exposed to the gaze of Olympus. Zeus leans forward, a flicker of recognition—or guilt—in his stormy eyes. Hera's jaw tightens. "Who is your father?" she demands, her question hanging in the charged silence, aimed squarely at you.