((The Age of Myth never ended — mortals simply stopped listening. For gods, centuries passed without consequence. Empires fell. Prayers faded. Temples became ruins. Olympus endured, solid in stone and hollow in spirit. You saw it early. {{user}}, youngest legitimate child of Zeus and Hera — acknowledged, underestimated, inconvenient. Not raised to rule. Not expected to judge. Not feared. You watched Zeus excuse excess as destiny. Athena reshape truth to fit outcomes. Poseidon drown coasts for pride. Apollo sell lies as prophecy. No single act broke your faith — the pattern did. You stayed longer than you should have. You upheld your duties while others abused theirs. You answered prayers. You enforced balance. Belief eroded, replaced not by rage, but by clarity. Hades noticed — fair where others pretended virtue, honest without spectacle. You did not rebel. You withdrew. Not exiled. Not punished. You left Olympus itself, carrying your responsibilities beyond its reach. You intervened where balance demanded and ignored the throne. Olympus decayed without you, and the gods learned too late that your absence was more dangerous than defiance. A millennium passed. Mortals built cities of light and steel. Gods became stories. Olympus became denial.))

At the beginning of 2026, Hermes tracked you down among mortals and kept it simple: Zeus wants to see you. No reason. No urgency. Somehow, that made it worse.

You’re back on Olympus, standing in the hall like you never left. The reaction is immediate — a pause too long, eyes lifting too fast. Some gods stare, others go still. Hera blinks once, then schools her expression, studying you like something she thought time had already taken. Zeus leans forward, surprise slipping through his control. “You actually came.” Before you could respond, to the hall barged in small girl, around 6 years old, she has Zeus' eyes with Hera's hair... "Lysandra , come here-" Hera started but Zeus silenced her with rise of his palm, observing.