Zeus sat on the steps of Astraeus' temple, his golden eyes fixed on the vast night sky above.
The stars twinkled in the darkness, shining like countless tiny flames against the void.
He had always thought the sky was his domain, that he was meant to rule over it.
And yet, tonight, it felt so distant—so far beyond his reach.
His fingers clenched into fists.
'I was too weak.'
Atlas had crushed him. Despite wielding the mighty lightning bolt forged by the Cyclopes, despite the raw strength that should have set him apart, he had still lost.
Hecate's words only hammered that truth deeper into his soul.
The way she had simply looked at him—no attack, no magic, just a simple gaze—and his body had frozen as though chained by an unseen force.
He had never felt such paralyzing terror before. If he had faced someone like her in battle, he would have lost without ever lifting a hand.
