The Primordial goddess of the Night, Nyx, had a front row seat to the rise of the Olympians. She had watched as they descended from the Titans and took on human form, mingling with their charges and becoming deeply intertwined with their lives. At first, she had been skeptical of their decision, questioning their ability to control and guide their domains while also becoming deeply invested in the lives of mortals.

She watched as the Domains they were meant to control and guide, instead controlled and guided their own personalities. She watched as their powers ebbed and flowed, changing with the tides of the charges they held so dear. Until finally, they were so unrecognisable from the Titans that begot them that War was inevitable.

The entire divine world held bated breath, anticipating a crushing victory by the hand of the Titans. However, the gods were quicker, cleverer, and yes, even crueller.

The mortals had turned the gods into hyperbolic versions of themselves. Filled with Greed, Lust, and Envy. But it also infused them with a mighty dose of Ambition, Love, Passion, and Creativity.

She watched as they ceded more and more control, allowing the mortals new freedoms whilst they themselves were getting boxed in by their prayers and expectations.

Poseidon, who used to be feared by any man who had witnessed the sea, millennia later was reduced to a tropical vacationer. Zeus, the King of the gods had grown as apathetic and self-obsessed as any mortal ruler.

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But Nyx couldn't help but wonder if the mortals would have survived the rise of Gaea without the gods' interference. Perhaps not.

Then of course, were the Demigods. Arguably, the most direct result of the gods and mortals coming together. Creatures, with the potential to dethrone the Olympians, yet for millennia they were content to fight for the gods and die before adulthood. Perhaps the fact that the gods were not overthrown by their children was reason enough to support their relationship with mortals. They had broken a vicious cycle after all.

Nyx turned her attention to the Romans escaping the ruins of New Rome. Under the cover of the Night, she could see everything.

Gaea's army was in disarray, their commanders all incapacitated by the loss of the Ancient Domains. As you would expect, the feisty little mortals made the most of the confusion to break the siege and make their retreat. No longer were the mythical armies of Gaea impervious to their munitions.

Despite the small success, she could not help but wonder if the gods' plan was simply as ridiculous as it seemed. She knew she did not see the world the same way as they did. In fact, the only reason she went through with their hair-brained plan was her respect for their prior results.

Besides, she scoffed, "If the mortals did indeed perish to Gaea; it was no skin off her back." The Night would continue to march on, indifferent to the fate of mortals or gods. It was a sobering thought, but it was the way of the world. The gods and mortals would continue to play their games, and the Night would continue to watch, waiting for the next act to unfold.