Greek Myth: Zeus Wants Me to Be His/Her (XXXX)?????

"She actually did it?!"

The darkness that had smothered the sky was torn apart, replaced by a brilliant, rain-washed blue.

Hera stared at the rift in the heavens, momentarily stunned.

Amphitrite had truly succeeded. That meant Eros had once again escaped death by the narrowest margin.

As Hera recalled Zeus's words, she found herself sinking into deeper thought.

Even she, without realizing it, had begun helping Eros, even saving him.

Could it be that, like Zeus, he truly bore some inescapable destiny, some unbreakable fate that kept him alive?

The notion flashed through her mind, and the next instant, as if jolted by lightning, she sprang away from Eros's back.

Eros instantly lost the protection of Aegis's shield. Had Typhon not been frozen in surprise, he might have perished on the spot.

The dark blessing Typhon had been born with had been ripped apart. As it reeled in confusion, a dreadful, irresistible force descended from the heavens.

Typhon hastily folded its hundred wings around itself, curling up in fear.

The next moment, blinding lightning split the sky, burning through the clouds and striking down with the absolute power of the King of the Gods.

This was lightning, thunder, the wrath of Olympus, the Almighty Father, the All-Powerful God.

From Olympus's summit, she hurled down the great thunderbolt that could shake the world and destroy all.

The bolt rent the heavens. Even the underworld and the deepest earth shuddered at its might.

Aether himself cried out in agony, unable to endure the searing pain as the thunderbolt tore through the skies.

Helios's steeds bolted in terror, dragging the sun chaotically across the firmament.

The Moirai's threads snapped in their hands.

Nyx's quiet veil was illuminated, revealing the faintest hint of her face.

Eros and Hera looked up, as if through that torn sky they could glimpse that silver figure above.

Athena, Apollo, and the others who had rushed to the scene felt their hearts quake at the sight of that thunderbolt.

Even Gaia stirred in the depths of the earth, uneasy at the thunder that shook the world.

"Typhon! Come back now!"

The once-unstoppable monster, who had seemed an invincible demon just moments ago, now lay broken and ruined.

Half its heads were charred black, its wings pierced by the lightning's flames, its mountain-sized body torn asunder.

Its demonic blood flowed like a river, fouling the sea with corrosive venom and the stench of sulfur.

It's over, Eros thought, breathing a sigh of relief as he edged back toward Hera.

Honestly, he'd been worried. Typhon was supposed to be Zeus's greatest foe. Even without unleashing the full power of the thunderbolt, wouldn't they still have had to fight for ages?

But what he'd seen, what that thunderbolt had done, was beyond anything he'd imagined.

Zeus the Heavenly Emperor indeed. One strike, and Typhon was nearly obliterated.

"Don't get so close!" Hera protested, flustered.

Zeus was surely watching. She'd gotten carried away and helped, but now that the crisis had passed, embarrassment flooded her.

Of all the people here, she felt the most awkward. She almost wished Typhon had crushed her and saved her the trouble.

Meanwhile, Typhon, gravely wounded and warned by Gaia, had no will to continue the fight.

It wasn't fully grown yet. Facing Zeus's thunderbolt again would be suicide.

This was Gaia's carefully crafted child, meant to stand against Zeus. Losing it here would be a devastating blow.

Without hesitation, Typhon abandoned half its body and plunged into the sea, hoping to retreat into the earth's embrace and recover.

The sudden deadly crisis had finally passed.

Eros exhaled, exhausted. Whatever came next, he didn't care. Let it all go to hell.

He'd survived. He'd earned his rewards. That was enough.

But Typhon didn't intend to end things so cleanly.

Just as it slipped into the depths, it hesitated.

Its rage and frustration ignited the latent power of another primordial god, Tartarus.

Its belly split open into a gaping maw, a direct passage to Tartarus itself, and as Eros relaxed his guard, Typhon lunged back and swallowed him whole.

Ah, crap. Did I just let it swallow Hera's avatar too?

The invisible hand of fate paused for an instant, then moved on.

Oh well. Just an avatar. Doesn't matter.

"Ananke!"

Zeus's furious cry shook the world as a second bolt of thunder and flame followed close behind.

This time, Typhon's body was completely destroyed, reduced to fragments that sank beneath the waves.

From Olympus's peak, Zeus blazed like a star of lightning, shaking the mountain itself.

Thunder rolled across the sky, the world echoing the King of the Gods' fury.

Typhon, who should have fled, had inexplicably turned back to devour Eros, a twist no one could explain.

Even shattered by Zeus's wrath, Typhon had not truly perished.

It would return someday for that destined battle.

Hera would be fine. She'd only lost an avatar.

But Eros... Eros was a human, swallowed by the abyss of Tartarus.

Without divine nature to protect him, he would be ground away by that endless darkness.

Zeus's fury tore at the world as he vented his rage.

But no heart ached more than Apollo's, who had arrived at last.

From the joy of seeing Eros safe, to the dread of sensing danger, to the elation at Typhon's retreat, and then the crushing despair of seeing Eros devoured in an instant.

No speed of light could have saved him from that devouring maw.

Darkness. Despair.

The storm of emotion tore at Apollo's mind until she could bear it no longer.

"How... could this happen..."

She sank to the spot where Eros had vanished, whispering as if in a trance.

"If only I'd been faster... if only I'd gotten here sooner..."

Athena and Prometheus watched her, unsure how to offer comfort.

Their minds raced, searching for answers, then gave up.

They would ask Zeus himself when they returned to Olympus.

He had wielded the great thunderbolt. Surely the truth was tangled and deep.

And whatever their plan had been, that was probably ruined.

"Maybe not," Prometheus said quietly, pointing.

There on the ground, separate from Typhon's foul blood, lay a small pool of pure red.

It was drying in the sea breeze, a last, fragile sign of hope.

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