Chapter 1 - The Voice in the Chaos

Prometheus had watched Chronos devour three of his children before he had to leave. He'd seen worse, and would see worse again, but the King of Titans was beginning to grow suspicious.

Now, as he stood in the ruins of what used to be a village, Prometheus understood why Chronos had been right to suspect him.

The soldiers had been methodical: supplies first, buildings second, bodies arranged for maximum terror. Prometheus knelt beside a small wooden horse, still warm from flames, and felt that dangerous fondness for creatures who carved toys knowing gods would destroy them. An eagle's shadow crossed the ash-dark sky.

His thoughts drifted to the rebel camps gathering in the valley: Zeus's forces loud with fury and uncertain righteousness, and the quieter camp where a Titaness named Metis was teaching gods what came after the throne. He'd seen both patterns before.

But this Metis, she'd seen the patterns as well. There was something about her. Something that made Prometheus pocket the wooden horse and turn toward the camps. This time felt different. He had to know why.

Dawn was still an hour away when Metis slipped from her tent into the cold.