Two months had passed since the reign of the new gods began. Working tirelessly, they cleaned up the devastation left by the "Olympomachy," the Battle of the Olympians, and helped mortals rebuild their shattered lives. The new name commemorated their victory over the tyrannical gods. They even assigned a dedicated caretaker to the Sanctuary of Gaia, where the goddess finally bore fruit – a succulent green apple cherished by the new gods.

"Peace has finally settled upon the land of Greece," Gaia declared. "Thank you, Lugh, for your role in bringing it about."

Wingo acknowledged her appreciation with a nod. "However, this wasn't part of my original plan."

Gaia noticed the lingering sadness in Wingo's eyes. "Why the mournful expression, Lugh? Sixty days have passed."

His voice choked with emotion, Wingo replied, "Even after all this time, I haven't found Haidee. I searched everywhere, from the Elysian fields to the depths of the underworld, but there's no sign of her."

Gaia empathized with his grief. She too had searched for Haidee but found no trace of the woman Zeus had taken. "Ever since she learned of your loss, Fris has been by your side, offering comfort," she said gently, trying to nudge him towards acceptance.

Wingo rose from his seat. "I appreciate her care, Mother, but I have other plans."

Gaia's voice softened. "Oh, and what might those be, Lugh?"

His fist clenched in determination. "I must seek vengeance for my homeland, which fell to the Norse gods."

A knowing smile touched Gaia's lips. "I suspected you wouldn't remain on the throne forever. May Oceanus guide you well on your journey, Lugh."

"It's you and the new gods who shall take care of Greece," Wingo replied. "I sense another conflict brewing among the deities."

Concern flickered in Gaia's voice. "Will you be there for us, Lugh?" With her invisible hand, she grasped his left hand.

A warrior's promise carries immense weight. Wingo met her concern head-on. "As soon as I hear of an attack on Greece, I'll fly back from the Norse lands immediately."

Though unseen, Gaia felt a wave of relief wash over her at his vow of protection.

"Will you leave right away?" she inquired as her caretaker opened the gates back to Thrace.

"There's one last matter to attend to," Wingo announced. "I'll hold a grand feast for all of Greece in Thessaly." He mounted Pegasus. "Would you be so kind as to ensure a smooth journey for mortals traveling there?"

"Consider it done, my king," Gaia acquiesced.

With that, Wingo soared towards Mount Olympus, ready to announce his departure to the assembled gods.

He landed and settled on his throne. The renovated palace boasted statues of all twelve new gods, each seated upon a throne. The palace columns depicted various Greek states and towns.

Turning his attention to his messenger god, Wingo called out, "Diumene!"

Instantly Diumene appeared from his first call. He wore golden chlamys and a leather sandal. He knelt down before Wingo as his head faced downwards.

"Diumene," Wingo chuckled, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Didn't I tell you to face me when you speak?"

"My apologies, brother," Diumene replied with a sheepish grin. He turned to face Wingo fully.

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"Gather our brethren," Wingo instructed. "I have an announcement to make."

Diumene bowed and swiftly departed to carry out the king's command. Within minutes, the new gods had arrived from their various domains, adorned in attire befitting their divine status. They all knelt before Wingo, acknowledging him as their leader.

"I've called you all here today," Wingo began, "with news of my impending departure for Scandinavia."

A collective gasp rippled through the assembled gods. Some harbored the notion of a new king being elected, but Wingo silenced them with a raised hand.

"While I'm away in Midgard," he continued, "I'll return immediately upon receiving word from Diumene of any threat to Greece." With this declaration, he effectively appointed Diumene as the official messenger of the gods.

"Does this mean we'll be choosing a new king?" Cysus, the new god of wine and festivity, inquired, voicing the question on everyone's mind.

Wingo anticipated this concern. "No," he replied. "During my absence, Aileyne will act as ruler."

This announcement caused a stir. Heaeven, the god of the skies, scoffed, "Why her? Shouldn't it be Orio or Nevadd?"

"Aileyne, the goddess of wisdom," Wingo explained, "possesses the knowledge and temperament to guide you all effectively. Over the past days, I've instructed both her and Nichs on the responsibilities and principles of godhood. While both were worthy candidates, I believe Aileyne's experience surpasses Nichs's, who still has much to learn."

The gods, recognizing the logic behind Wingo's decision, fell silent. Vilumene, the god of strength, rose from his throne and raised his blade in a gesture of respect. "In honor of His Majesty's decree, do we not all stand ready to uphold his commands?"

Oefth, the god of oaths, added solemnly, "Indeed. We have sworn an oath to our king, and we will not falter in our devotion."

Inspired by this display of loyalty, all the gods rose and acknowledged Wingo's decision. Aileyne stepped forward and knelt before him. Wingo rose from his throne and descended the steps to bestow upon her the mantle of leadership.

"Aileyne, goddess of wisdom," he declared, "I entrust you with the throne and the blade, a weapon capable of vanquishing any god or mortal who dares oppose us."

He helped her to her feet and presented her with the sword he had used to vanquish many foes. Finally, he bestowed upon her a laurel wreath, crafted from amarantos, a symbol of her role as protector of Greece. Witnessing Aileyne adorned with these symbols of power and bathed in the light of Helios, Nichs felt a surge of inspiration and began capturing the scene on canvas.

Cysus, the ever-jovial god of festivity, rose with a broad smile. "Before His Majesty departs," he boomed, "let us hold a grand feast across all of Greece to bid him farewell!"

The gods readily agreed to his suggestion, each calling upon their respective domains to prepare for the celebration. Thessaly was chosen as the venue, and Cysus, along with Aeolus, the god of the winds, ensured the region was readied for the arrival of mortals and creatures alike. The day was filled with merriment, with Nichs serenading the crowd with his music, accompanied by the enchanting melodies of the nine muses.

Despite the jubilant celebration around him, a shadow of loneliness lingered in Orio's heart. Watching his siblings revel in the revelry, he realized many of them, including Wingo, would soon depart.

Sensing his friend's dejection, Wingo approached Orio and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Still feeling down, brother?" he asked with a gentle chuckle, taking another sip of wine.

Orio remained silent for a moment, the weight of their impending separation heavy. Wingo understood and squeezed his friend's shoulder in a silent gesture of reassurance.

"Selas, Haidee, Leon, Juno, and Kyra...they'll forever hold a place in our hearts," Wingo consoled him. "And I promise, once I've settled the score with the Norse gods, I'll return home with the speed of the wind."

A flicker of hope ignited in Orio's eyes. "Gaia and I will be waiting for you," he declared, his voice firm with resolve. "Remember, a warrior's promise is unbreakable."

Wingo grinned, a single tear tracing a path down his cheek. The two brothers embraced tightly, a silent farewell that spoke volumes. As they pulled away, Orio surprised Wingo by etching a burning mark onto his back.

"What's this?" Wingo inquired, his curiosity piqued.

"The mark is linked to me," Orio explained. "It allows us to communicate, no matter the distance."

Wingo's heart warmed. "Thank you, brother. This is a thoughtful gift."

The next day, after a heartfelt farewell to the gods, mortals, and creatures gathered before him, Wingo set off northwards. He mounted his trusty black stallion, the same companion who'd carried him since leaving Sparta, and rode towards the horizon.

The biting chill of winter greeted him as he crossed the border of Thrace. A towering figure on a multi-legged steed awaited his arrival.

"By Odin's beard, you've finally arrived!" the man boomed.

Wingo threw back his hood, a wry smile playing on his lips as snowflakes swirled around him. "Fimbulwinter, is it?" he asked, a hint of apprehension lacing his voice.

"Indeed," the man confirmed. "The longest winter has begun."