Monarch of Lightning

For years, I trained relentlessly under Metis and my mother, honing not only my skills as a cupbearer but my understanding of how to deceive, blend in, and manipulate. Every visit brought Rhea and Metis back with a new set of ingredients or an idea for a blend that might suit Kronos's tastes while being lethal enough to trigger the release of my siblings. Together, we experimented with various combinations of poisons, each attempt more subtle than the last, until finally, we crafted a mixture with the delicate balance I sought. It was dangerous yet precise, potent enough to poison a Titan without killing him immediately. The final formula was subtle and disguised, able to wreak havoc within Kronos yet leaving no trace on his sharp palate. The mixture was a deadly art.

In the end, we chose three ingredients: copper sulfate, poppy juice, and syrup of manna. Each component held a unique quality—a quiet venom disguised by sweetness and fragrance. I christened it Nightshade. To Kronos, it would appear as a new, exquisite flavor; to me, it was a dagger cloaked in the shadows, a betrayal served in a goblet. I relished the irony of it, that my blade would be unseen until it was too late.

My training was far from limited to drink mixtures, however. Metis insisted I understand the full art of subterfuge, and I followed her guidance with unwavering determination. We practiced the bearing and language of Titans, the gestures and mannerisms that would allow me to blend seamlessly into their world. Metis taught me how to shape-shift, and I gradually molded myself into a towering, Titan-like figure, one that mirrored their size and stature. It was not an easy feat, but with Metis's expert eye for detail and my determination, I soon came to look, walk, and even speak like a Titan.

After hours of relentless practice, I could move through the mountain paths with the heavy stride of a Titan, my face hardened into an expression of strength and arrogance. Even my voice, once untouched by the centuries, now held a deeper, more timeless resonance. Each day, I would practice taking on the Titan form in front of Rhea, who would nod in approval, her pride unspoken but visible in her eyes. I knew that this was the face I would present to Kronos himself, and it had to be flawless.

Through it all, Rhea provided a quiet but constant support. In our stolen moments together, she shared stories of my siblings, her hope and worry for them clear in her voice. When I told her about my choice to make lions my sacred animals, her face lit up with joy, her pride obvious as she gazed at me with an almost childlike wonder. These conversations brought us closer, allowing me to see beyond her role as the Queen of the Titans. For the first time, I felt a true connection with my mother—a bond that went beyond strategy and power.

We spoke of her love for lions, their strength and loyalty, and how they had been her companions during the days before the Titans' reign. She told me stories of her own youth, tales of hunts and journeys into the wilderness, of times when the world was new and wild. In return, I shared stories of my training, my hopes, and my desire to reunite with my siblings. We laughed, shared quiet moments, and let our bond grow strong—a bond that would anchor us both for the days to come.

One fateful morning, everything changed. Rhea appeared, her face tense and serious, the lightheartedness of our past conversations replaced with a sense of urgency. "Zeus," she said, her voice steady but firm, "Kronos has killed his former cupbearer. He's… searching for a replacement."

Her words were both a warning and an opportunity. I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of my task settle heavily on my shoulders. This was it—the moment we had waited and planned for, the moment I had trained so tirelessly to face. With a steady gaze, I looked into my mother's eyes and nodded. "I'm ready, Mother."

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The next day, we set out for Mount Othrys, home of the Titans. As we approached, the mountain loomed ahead, dark and majestic, its peaks sharp as blades, disappearing into swirling clouds. Thunder rumbled low, as if even the skies above the mountain warned of the danger within. The paths leading up to the fortress were narrow, carved into sheer cliffs where any misstep would plunge one into the abyss below. The entire mountain exuded an ominous grandeur, a place of power and fear. Massive statues lined the trails, each one bearing a different Titan's face, carved from black marble and lit by torches that burned with an unnatural light.

At the summit, a gleaming palace awaited. Constructed of white marble veined with gold, it was stunning and terrible in its beauty. Towers spiraled upward, glinting in the rare patches of sunlight that managed to pierce the dense clouds. The walls were carved with depictions of the Titans' conquests, their victories over foes long vanquished, reminders of their power and dominion over both gods and mortals.

Metis and I approached the palace's immense entrance, where we found Atlas standing guard, his imposing figure exuding raw strength and menace. He looked down at us with an air of impatience, arms folded across his massive chest, his eyes flicking to me with suspicion. I used my Divine Eyes to gauge his strength: Level 4,800. An impressive opponent, one I knew I'd have to avoid provoking.

"What business do you have here?" Atlas growled, his voice like the rumble of an avalanche.

Metis, undeterred, offered him a graceful nod. "Atlas, I bring my nephew here to offer his services to the king. My husband's kin, trained by me personally. He seeks the position of cupbearer."

Atlas studied me, his gaze cold and assessing. "The King does not trust easily. Why would he take on an unknown like you?"

With a respectful bow, I held my hands out, palms open. "I come only with the skill and loyalty that has been taught to me by Metis herself. My only ambition is to serve."

Atlas narrowed his eyes, but after a moment of silence, he stepped aside and opened the doors, allowing us entry.

We walked down a long, grand hall adorned with towering pillars and statues, leading to an immense throne at the far end. The Titans filled the hall, each more imposing than the last. Their forms were massive, their skin ranging from ivory to deep bronze, their eyes holding the fierce light of the stars. Their power hung heavy in the air, stifling and oppressive.

At the end of the hall sat Kronos, the King of the Titans, on a throne of black stone laced with shimmering veins of gold. He was massive, even for a Titan, with golden eyes that burned with an intensity that seemed to see through all lies. His hair was dark, streaked with silver, and he wore a crown forged from the bones of his enemies. His expression was one of bored contempt as he watched us approach.

Metis and I stopped a respectful distance away, and she gave a slight bow. "Lord Kronos," she began, her tone deferential but steady, "I present my nephew, here to seek the honor of serving as your new cupbearer."

Kronos's gaze shifted to me, his golden eyes narrowing as he studied me with a disdainful smirk. "And what makes you think you're worthy of such a position, boy? I've no use for incompetence."

Swallowing my nerves, I stepped forward and met his gaze with unwavering determination. "I understand, my lord, and I assure you—I will prove myself worthy. My skills have been honed by Metis herself, and I am prepared to meet any test you may choose to set for me."

Kronos leaned back on his throne, considering me with a dangerous gleam in his eye. "Very well," he said after a pause, his voice heavy with the weight of command. "A test, then. I have certain… preferences in my wine, and I shall be displeased if you fail to meet them."

A servant brought forth a set of ornate goblets, and Kronos detailed his exacting standards: the precise ratio of honey to water, the temperature, the correct herbs to enhance the flavor. Each requirement seemed designed to trip me up, but I focused, taking in every word.

When he finished, he gestured for me to proceed. I took the goblet and went to the mixing station nearby, my hands steady as I combined the ingredients. I measured carefully, knowing that even a small mistake could cost me everything. I poured the wine with perfect control, heating it slightly before adding the herbs, my movements practiced and precise. After a moment, I turned and presented the goblet to Kronos with a slight bow.

Kronos took the goblet, his eyes never leaving mine as he lifted it to his lips. He drank deeply, and for a brief, tense moment, the hall was silent. Then, with a smirk, he lowered the goblet and inclined his head. "Impressive. You may have a place here, nephew of Metis."

Relief washed over me, though I kept my expression carefully composed. "Thank you, my lord. I swear I will serve you faithfully."

Kronos waved a hand dismissively. "Yes, yes. We shall see about that in time. For now, you may take your place."

Metis gave me a discreet nod of approval as she stepped back, and I took my place among the other servants. I was in. Now, I just had to wait for the right moment—for the night when Nightshade would be poured, and Kronos's reign would begin to crumble from within.