I Am Zeus

"Hermes," Zeus called, voice low but carrying. Lightning cracked once in the rafters. The messenger appeared in the next heartbeat, caduceus humming.

"Summon everyone," Zeus said. "Major and minor. Council now."

Hermes didn't ask why. He vanished in a gold streak.

The sky amphitheater woke.

Sigils lit along the ring of thrones—storm, sea, hearth, hunt, sun, moon, forge, war, wisdom, wine, love. Benches rose for the lesser gods. A dome of aether sealed overhead, open to the night.

They came like weather.

Poseidon strode in with surf at his heels, trident wet and bright. Hades unfolded from a slit of shadow, cold and still. Athena arrived in bronze; an owl settled on her shoulder. Apollo's steps spilled daylight. Artemis followed with the scent of pine.

Ares came bandaged and angry, sword in hand out of habit. Hephaestus limped with sparks in his beard. Hermes zipped by everyone twice for no reason. Hestia was last among the majors, small flame cupped in her palms; when she sat, the room steadied.

Demeter entered softly, wheatheads nodding along her hem. Aphrodite drifted on perfume and trouble. Dionysus yawned into a purple cup and conjured a vine as a chair.

The minor gods filled the tiers. Nike's wings flashed. Nemesis rested a dark blade across her knees. Themis set scales that ticked with every lie. Iris painted a thin arc of color. Eris rolled a golden apple across her knuckles. Pan trotted in barefoot, pipe between his teeth. The four winds whirled to their seats; Boreas scratched frost on his own chair. Thanatos took the highest shadow. Hypnos leaned on a rail and almost slept. Tyche spun a little wheel. Asclepius tapped his serpent staff. Persephone crossed a doorway that wasn't there a second earlier, winter at one shoulder and spring at the other; flowers opened in her wake and froze into glass. Helios blinked and withdrew quietly beyond the rim of light.

Zeus took the storm throne. The Storm Crown rose behind him, faint and cold. When he spoke, the dome itself seemed to inhale.

"Olympus."

The word found every ear.

"We meet for four matters," he said. "First, Hera's betrayal. Second, the Primordials. Third, the state of our realms—sky, sea, and under. Fourth, law."

A ripple went through the tiers. Ares stiffened. Hades's mouth twitched at "under." Poseidon rapped his trident, impatient already.

"Hera," Zeus said, "step forward."

Feathers burst and were a woman; Hera arrived in green, chin high, eyes bright. She did not bow. Several minor gods stopped breathing.

Zeus didn't raise his voice. "You allied with Tartarus. You used our son as a lever. Whatever your grievance, that crime is not excused."

Hera's jaw flexed. "You left me on the steps while Metis wore a crown."

A murmur. Eris smiled, pleased.

"This is not about crown," Zeus said flatly. "This is about endangering Olympus." He lifted a hand. The scales before Themis clicked; the beam settled even.

"Punishment," Zeus said. "By my right and by the Styx, you are stripped of council vote for one zodiac cycle. You are barred from treaties and from trafficking with anything born before night and day. A geas will bind your hand from Primordial contact. You will dwell in the Heraion; you will not set spies in my halls. Swear it."

Nemesis's blade rang softly. Themis inclined her head.

Hera did not move. Ares shifted, fury rising warm off him in waves.

"Mother," he said, low.

"Quiet," Zeus said, without looking. Thunder made the benches hum.

Hera's lips flattened. "You exile me from power and keep your bed full?"

Aphrodite coughed a laugh. Demeter did not look up. Hestia's flame flared and calmed; the air found its balance again.

"This is not a bed argument," Athena said. "Swear, and we move to war."

Hera's eyes flicked to Ares, then to Hades. The Lord of the Dead stared back like a door. She lifted her chin.

"I swear," she said. "By the River. By my name."

The air chilled. A black thread of Styx-water wrote itself around her wrist, sank into skin, and vanished. Nike whispered, "Bound."

Zeus nodded once. "Done."

He did not soften. He did not look at her again.

"Second," he said, and the dome dimmed as if listening.

"The Primordials have taken notice. Gaia told me so. Erebus wants first strike, Ananke watches, others wake. More beyond our story will move."

He opened a hand. Above the amphitheater, stormlight wove an image: a hollow older than halls, a black sea like glass, stars like fruit. Shadows formed—Nyx, Erebus, Gaia—then bled away.

"Some stand with us," Zeus said. "Some do not."

Poseidon snorted. "Let them come. My walls are the horizon."

Hades tapped a finger on his chair. "The pit screamed when you wounded it. I've sealed what you shattered, but pressure remains. If one of them tries the lower doors, they won't knock."

"We're not waiting to be hit," Athena said. A map in bronze light spread over the floor—leys and crossings, temples and gates. "We build bastions at the weak points. Skyward at Ida, Parnassus, Hymettus. Seaward at the Pillars, Crete's strait, the Hellespont. Underworld thresholds get triple warded."

Hephaestus grunted. "Give me a week and a river of ore. I'll cast a net in the sky—nodes that drink lightning and spit it as spears. Call it Aegis Above." Sparks leapt and stitched a little glowing lattice before winking out.

Hermes twirled his staff. "I'll weave routes around the bastions. If anything bigger than a boar sniffs them, we know early."

Iris raised a hand. "I can carry parley banners to thrones that might listen. Not all, but some. Better a web than a wall."

Apollo rested his lyre. "Prophecy's fogged. Something heavy sits on the line. But the sun can still burn ships. Give me coordinates."

Artemis nodded. "I'll keep mortals clear of any field you name. If old things step into the woods, they won't like what hunts there."

Asclepius edged forward. "Expand sanctuaries. Any god-wounded comes to me and lives."

Demeter's voice was soft but sure. "I'll thicken the roots. If they pull at the earth to crack our roads, it holds."

Pan grinned. "And if they touch my valleys with old cold, I'll play till trees walk."

The winds pledged the air to throw anything heavy back where it came from.

Nemesis stood. Her shadow doubled. "Price: anyone here who deals with the old ones after this hour pays. I don't care what crown they wear."

Eris sighed happily. "Drama."

Ares pushed to his feet.

"You want war?" He thumped his sword. "Good. I've been starving."

Athena's map snapped shut. "You'll starve longer unless you learn where to swing."

Ares smiled without warmth. "Show me a throat."

"Enough," Hestia said, barely above a whisper—and yet the amphitheater settled as if a hand pressed it down. "We stand or we scatter. Choose."

Zeus raised his hand. The Storm Crown brightened.

"Orders," he said. "Poseidon—you own the seas against anything that crawls out of the deep. Ward the trenches. Bind storms that aren't mine."

Poseidon's trident hit stone. Foam erupted and sank. "Done."

"Hades—lock the lower gates. If something breaks through, send me its name before the scream is finished."

Hades's eyes warmed by a shade. "You'll have more than a name."

"Athena—war council. Hermes—lines. Iris—tongues with other thrones. Hephaestus—the lattice. Apollo, Artemis—sun and shadow on call. Asclepius—triage. Demeter, Pan—leys. Winds—listen for holes. Hestia—keep this room steady while we shake it."

Hestia bowed her head. The air lifted a degree.

"And law," Zeus said. Silence closed.

"Edict of Olympus," Themis intoned.

Zeus nodded. "No Primordial pacts. No god here raises a hand against Olympus on another's promise. No bargains below the old night. No one drags mortals into our quarrel for sport. Oath by the Styx, here and now."

He held out his hand. Lightning coiled like a living rope.

One by one, they touched the light. It didn't burn. It marked. A faint sigil crawled under each wrist—storm-cut, binding. Even Dionysus sobered. Thanatos's black feather singed and was whole. Tyche's wheel clicked; the mark appeared on its rim. The Muses hummed; the note settled into the seal. When Poseidon pressed the rope, it hissed like rain on coals. Hades touched it last among the majors.

Hera stepped, too. The lightning marked her beside the darker band of the Styx oath already there.

"Punishment stands," Nemesis said, satisfied.

"Speak," Zeus said then, opening his hand to the tiers. "Counsel or grievance—bring it here, not to corridors."

Aphrodite flipped her hair. "Fine. Your army's ugly. Let me handle morale." For a heartbeat every scar in the room looked like a story you brag about.

Hephaestus snorted. "Make 'em beautiful after they come back."

Persephone said, "The dead are restless with rumor." Hades's head turned, softer for her alone. "I'll keep them still," she added.

Hermes, writing three letters in the air at once, nodded toward Zeus. "And your guest?"

Several faces shifted. Ares gripped his hilt. Athena measured.

"He remains a guest," Zeus said. "He does not sit on this circle. If he breaks our law, I break him."

That satisfied most. Themis's scales did not move.

Poseidon gestured toward the dome, where a thin horizon gathered. "Your training storms rip the edge. Keep them out of my currents."

Zeus met his gaze. "Hold your line, and I'll hold mine. Tear down a ward I place, and I'll nail it back with your trident."

Silence. Then Poseidon smiled like a shark. "There he is," he said. "Good."

Demeter spoke, gentle but stainless. "When you go to meet them—and you will—don't go alone."

He didn't answer her directly. But Athena saw the way his jaw set and knew he'd heard.

Iris lifted her prism. "I'm flying west first. They'll listen if we offer shared watch."

"Go," Zeus said. "Don't say our fear. Say our teeth."

Eris rolled her apple. "Want me to toss one at Erebus and see who stabs who first?"

"Not yet," Athena and Hestia said together.

Dionysus stood, suddenly sober. "When you need frenzy, call me. I can drown edges in joy or terror. Same drink."

Asclepius tapped his staff. "Leave me one body from the first thing you kill. I can learn from it."

Nike's wings flared. "Then give me the first charge."

Thanatos's shadow lengthened. "Do not call me for sport," he said to Ares without looking.

Ares grinned at the floor.

Zeus lifted his hands. The Storm Crown steadied.

"We're done hiding our spine," he said. "Olympus stands. We won't be the ones who blink."

He stepped down from the throne. The amphitheater leaned toward him.

"Go," he told them. "Seal gates, raise nets, sharpen names."

They rose like a tide. Powers crossed and did not clash. Winds carried words; iris light opened and closed; shadows folded up and were doors. Hephaestus's hammer rang before he reached the forge. Athena's maps walked after her. Artemis blurred into a pale streak. Apollo's heel lit and was gone. Poseidon flooded the threshold and left it dry. Hades opened a slit and stepped through with Persephone's hand in his.

Hestia stayed until the last chair stopped swaying. Then she breathed once, and the room remembered itself.

Only Zeus, Hera, and a few lingering minors remained—Hermes, already writing; Themis, already judging; Nemesis, already waiting for someone to tip the scale.

Zeus looked to Hera. "You heard the law."

She met his eyes. "I heard."

"For once, keep it."

For a heartbeat, something older than anger moved behind her face. Then she became a bird and was gone.

The dome thinned. Night showed its bright bones. Far below, the mortal world breathed, unaware.

Zeus stood alone again at the center, the scorch mark of his earlier vow still smoking at his feet. Lightning stitched once around his fingers and went out.

Somewhere beyond sight, something old shifted to listen.

And the king of the sky smiled without humor, already planning the next storm.