The Age of the Gods
Thousands of years ago, in a time when the heavens ruled the earth, there existed gods—immense, immortal, and unmatched. They were the architects of the world, divine forces who shaped nature itself. Among them, the greatest, the king of Olympus, was Zeus, the god of thunder. His reign was one of absolute command, his will shaping the stars and guiding the winds. Beneath him stood his brothers, Poseidon, lord of the seas, and Hades, ruler of the underworld, each with domains vast and untamable.
For centuries, the gods were revered by mankind. Temples rose in every corner of the earth, and human lives, frail and fleeting, were spent in reverence to these beings of unimaginable power. In return, the gods bestowed gifts of wisdom, wealth, and strength upon their followers. There was peace—an eternal peace, forged by the gods' hands and upheld by their unwavering gaze.
But as the centuries passed, something within mankind began to change. The harmony that had once existed began to crack. The gods watched as human hearts grew dark, as greed and ambition clouded their judgment. Once grateful for divine gifts, humans turned against each other, shedding blood in wars fueled by envy and hate. The land was soaked with it.
The gods, torn between their compassion and their wrath, could no longer remain passive. They descended from their celestial thrones, and a battle unlike any the world had ever seen erupted. The gods fought with the fury of storms themselves, their powers clashing against the mortal defiance.
Zeus’s thunderbolts split the sky, while Poseidon’s waves swallowed entire armies. The earth trembled as Hades summoned the souls of the dead to rise and fight. The gods won, yes, but at an unimaginable cost. The seven seas ran red with blood, and the lands were strewn with the bodies of fallen men. The gods, victorious but broken, stood amidst the ruins of a shattered world.
Zeus, his heart heavy with sorrow, made a decision that would echo through the ages. “I will no longer interfere in the affairs of mankind,” he declared. “No more shall I sway the hearts of men, no more shall I guide them. Let them choose their own paths.”
All the gods, even the mighty Hades, bowed their heads in solemn agreement, for they knew the cost of their intervention. But Poseidon, the tempestuous lord of the seas, could not contain his fury.
“You would abandon them?” Poseidon roared, his voice shaking the heavens. “After all we’ve done, you would turn your back on the very creatures we created?”
Zeus’s gaze turned cold. “It is done, brother. The balance must be restored. We shall no longer meddle in their lives.”
But Poseidon, consumed by rage and hurt, refused to bow. In a moment of divine fury, Zeus cast Poseidon down from Olympus. The sea god was sent to the mortal realm, stripped of half his powers, forbidden from claiming human life. The once-mighty god, now mortal in his own way, wandered the earth, bound by the laws of fate.
---
Orion's Journey
Orion sat in the dim light of their humble home, his mother feverish on the cot. The storm outside had been raging for days now, relentless, and the sea seemed angry. Orion’s small hands gripped the edge of his wooden stool, his eyes distant as he tried to focus on the tales his mother had told him about the gods.
The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
"Mom, where is Poseidon now?" he asked, breaking the silence.
His mother, pale and weak, smiled faintly. "Ah, my dear, they say Poseidon is still out there, lost in the vastness of the oceans. No one knows for sure where he is, but many believe he still roams the deep waters, guiding those who are brave enough to listen. Some say that when the waves crash in just the right way, it’s him, still showing the way to those who need it. The oceans are his kingdom now, and in a way, he is still the protector of those who sail, even though he has been forgotten by most."
Orion looked out of the window at the storm, his thoughts drifting to the ocean beyond. "Do you think the gods will ever come back, Mom? To help us?"
Her voice grew softer, more reflective. "The gods work in ways we cannot understand, Orion. Perhaps they are still watching, waiting for the right moment. Or perhaps it is us, the ones they created, who must prove we are worthy of their return."
Orion’s thoughts buzzed as he stared at the rain slashing against the window. His mother’s words echoed in his mind, and a strange sense of hope filled his chest. "If Poseidon is still out there, could he help us? Could he bring us food or fix the storms?"
She chuckled softly, though it ended in a light cough. "Poseidon is not a god of charity, my son. He is a force of nature, neither good nor evil. If he helps, it is not because we ask, but because we trust the sea. The ocean is a strange place—kind to some and cruel to others. It reflects what is in our hearts."
Orion’s heart sank. His stomach growled—a cruel reminder of their emptiness. They had no food left, and his mother was growing weaker with each passing hour. He had to do something.
“I’m going to find food for us,” he said, standing up with resolve, though uncertainty tugged at him.
His mother’s eyes widened in alarm. “Orion, no! The storm is too dangerous. You’ll get lost or worse.”
But Orion’s determination was already set. “You always said we have to trust, Mom. I trust the sea, and I trust myself.”
He grabbed a tattered cloak and stepped into the night, the winds howling fiercely around him. The sea churned violently in the distance, and the world felt as if it was on the edge of something terrible. But Orion couldn’t afford to feel fear. Not now. His mother needed him.
The streets were empty, save for the occasional shadow rushing by, hiding from the storm. He made his way to the abandoned marketplace, hoping for something—anything. And then, near a crumbling fishing hut, he found it: a small basket, half-hidden under a tarp. His heart leaped as he rushed over, opening it to reveal a few dried fish.
It wasn’t much, but it was food. A fragile lifeline. His hands trembled as he scooped the fish into his arms. "This will save her," he whispered to himself, though doubts lingered.
The wind continued to howl, the storm pressing against him, but Orion didn’t stop. With the basket of fish clutched tightly to his chest, he made his way back through the flooded streets, his body shivering in the cold. He couldn’t fail now. His mother needed him.
By the time he reached their home, his legs were shaky, his clothes drenched, and his breath ragged. The storm had lessened to a drizzle, but the air was thick with salt and fear. He hurried inside, the basket still in his hands.
“Mom!” he called, his voice cracking. “I found food. We’ll eat now. You’ll feel better.”
There was no response.
His heart skipped a beat, and he rushed to her side, shaking her gently. The room was silent, the oil lamp flickering. He reached out to touch her hand, and it was cold. Too cold.
“No,” Orion whispered, panic tightening in his chest. He shook her harder, his voice desperate. “Mom? Please. Wake up.”
But it was too late. The storm outside was nothing compared to the storm inside him. His mother, the one person who had always been there, had slipped away. Alone in the dim room, Orion held the basket of fish in his trembling hands, his heart breaking as the weight of the world seemed to fall on his shoulders.
And the sea, silent and unforgiving, watched from the distance.
---
Orion sat in silence as the storm raged on, its howls a cruel symphony to his grief. The small, cold room felt emptier than ever. His mother’s stillness was a void he couldn’t fill. The basket of fish lay forgotten by his side, its promise of hope now meaningless. He sat there for hours, the storm outside matching the storm within him.
Days turned into nights, and Orion’s hunger gnawed at him like a living thing. He forced himself to eat the dried fish—first out of survival, then out of sheer necessity. The storm didn’t relent. Its fury continued to beat against Cinderfall, tearing away roofs, flooding streets, and drowning the last remnants of its once-thriving beauty.
The storm raged on for 15 relentless days, pounding Cinderfall with its unyielding fury. What was once a bustling coastal town now lay in ruins—roofs torn off, streets turned into rivers, and homes reduced to splintered wood and stone. The people of Cinderfall, already struggling with scarcity, found themselves plunged into unimaginable hardship. Food was almost nonexistent, and poverty gripped the survivors like an iron chain.
Amidst the wreckage stood Orion, only 9 years old, the weight of survival pressing heavily on his young shoulders. His home, now barely standing, offered little shelter from the bitter winds and rains. The once-comforting scent of the sea now reeked of decay and despair.
With no family left to guide him and the world around him collapsing, Orion had no choice but to grow up quickly. The innocence of his childhood was stripped away by the storm, replaced by the harsh reality of finding food, warmth, and safety.