Olympus—An alternate tale

The mortal world ended the night Zeus found him. Thunder split the sky, and a god who rarely explained himself reached down and took what was his. No ceremony. No warning. One moment he was flesh and breath, the next he stood on marble that glowed like dawn, surrounded by gods who measured him with ancient eyes. Olympus does not welcome easily, and bastards least of all.

Now he walks halls built by immortals, claimed by the King of Gods but not embraced by them. Hera’s silence is heavier than any curse. The other gods whisper, watching for weakness or defiance. He is neither fully mortal nor divine, caught between pride and fear, trying to understand why Zeus chose him and what price will be demanded for that choice.