Vol. III Prologue: The Summit of Gods

Far above the world of mortals, beyond sight and sky, there stretched a realm shaped by pure divine will.

A realm beyond time, space, and death.

And at its heart lay a place not built, but forged by pure creative force: the City of Light, palace of the immortals, and home of the gods.

Olympus.

There was no sky there, only a boundless dome of radiant mist, streaked with golden rays and drifting clouds. The air was sweet and heavy like ambrosia, and the marble paths shimmered with every step, glowing in rhythm as if the very ground honored its divine masters.

Here they lived, the Eternal Ones, not like kings, but like forces of nature.

Beauty, power, and madness given form.

And on that day, the gods gathered in their sacred halls, as they always did when the balance of worlds began to falter.

But peace did not reign among them.

“He betrayed me!”

With his hair flying and his face ablaze with rage, Dionysus stormed into the center of the hall. His steps echoed like wardrums.

“He rescued a mortal and my traitorous servant from the punishment they deserved. In doing so, he spits on our divine dignity and has shamed us all!”

At the edge of the circle stood Hermes, leaning casually on his caduceus. He looked wearier than usual, but his smile remained. A thin, knowing smile that could mean anything.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Coming from the god of madness, that’s rich.”

“You broke the rules!” Dionysus shot back, furious.

Athena crossed her arms. “It wasn’t Hermes who lost control, Dionysus. You unleashed your fury on a girl who merely chose a path without you.”

“I made her what she is!” Dionysus barked.

“And then she turns away from me, to run off with him!?”

“You brought a mortal into your world,” Hera said coldly.

“What did you expect? You know how humans are. Always falling in love with nymphs and maenads.”

“I ennobled him!” Dionysus snapped, still brimming with indignation.

Some gods exchanged amused glances. Aphrodite smiled sweetly, as if it were nothing but a game

“Must every dispute end in shouting?” Demeter murmured, calmly circling her hand in the air.

Then silence fell, for Zeus had risen.

He stepped into the circle, his gaze distant, as though peering through time and across worlds.

“And what, Dionysus, do you propose Hermes should do to atone for his little offense?”

The eyes of the pantheon turned to the god of wine.

“He sent them to another world. He should bring them back. Then I can decide on a fitting punishment, for the mortal and for my... servant.”

Hermes rolled his eyes, letting out a quiet „tsk“.

Then Zeus spoke again, his voice could have split mountains:

“A mortal enters a god’s realm. A satyr defies her master. And together, they flee into a world not their own. Now chaos threatens a realm never meant to know of us.”

Silence. Even Dionysus said nothing.

“This is no longer about justice or revenge. It’s about the balance between worlds. And that balance must not falter.”

He stroked his long white beard and pondered for a moment. Then he turned to Hermes.

“You brought them into that world. You've seen it with your own eyes, haven’t you, Wanderer-Between-Worlds?”

Hermes gave a half-nod, as if it were of little importance.

“Once or twice.”

“Then you will show me. I will see for myself whether Dionysus’s servant and that mortal have set something in motion that threatens our order, and whether it can be contained... before it contains us.”

A murmur ran through the hall.

Hermes slowly bowed his head.

“As you wish.”

Then he raised his caduceus. A soft whistle, and a circle of light opened at the center of Olympus, shimmering, vibrating with energy.

Zeus stepped forward.

“Hecate.”

A gust of wind swept through the hall. Smoke filled the space where moments ago there had been only empty air.

From it, a figure stepped forth, clad in dark robes, bearing a torch of blue flame. A glowing crescent adorned her brow, where dark bangs fell in soft strands, nearly veiling her emerald eyes.

Hecate smiled faintly as she approached Zeus.

“You will come with us,” he said.

“And you will tell me what lies beneath that world’s surface, how its magic breathes, and how deeply its roots run.”

Hecate bowed in silent agreement.

And so, Zeus, accompanied by the messenger god and the guardian of thresholds and magic, stepped through the shimmering gate. The threads of fate began to weave anew.

Behind them, the circle of light closed with a soft, final crackle.

And there, between Tiberun, Yashar, and all the other lands, realms, and empires in whose struggles Lucius and Melissa were already entangled, no one yet suspected that the gaze of foreign gods had fallen upon them.

Nor that a war of worlds had already become inevitable.