Dedication: To the best pen-pal anyone could ever ask for. Kayla, you're not only my writing partner and partner in crime, but you're also my best friend. We've been friends for many years, my dear, and I hope you understand just what your friendship means to me. I love ya, Pretty Princess. (A.N: Her pen-name is Skillet's Lady Goddess. Go read her shiz.)
Prologue
Long ago, in an age before written history, a star shattered into billions of pieces. From a single speck of star dust, Chaos was molded. He brought the worlds together; with the strands of chaos he wove what was to be a perfect world, with beautiful forests and vast, deep oceans, majestic valleys and rustic mountain ranges. It was a beautiful, blue marble of perfection but he felt nothing of the thing he created. It was beautiful, but it was empty, devoid of life. He watched as his creation spun, filling his days with its blind beauty.
Centuries seemed to pass as he observed his creation. He was about to wipe it out when a delicate, pale hand touched his shoulder. He turned, spying the glorious woman beside him. As he'd been watching the earth for so long, Chaos hadn't noticed the star dust creating the beautiful creature beside him. With hair as black as the void and skin as white as the first snowfall, she was beauty personified, his to hold for all eternity. She was Nyx, and together they created the rest of the universe. Chaos found that he was happy; he had a companion. Together, they brought life to the world and their happiness and light spread like wildfire throughout the cosmos. They joined together and had children, and their children had children, creating the first pantheon.
The Titans.
Millennia passed, Chaos and Nyx grew tired. Their children had reaped what they'd sown, bringing new life to the old blue marble their parents had created. The Olympians were now in charge. Zeus, Hades, Poseidon and the rest had taken refuge on Olympus, allowing them perfect sight of the humans beneath them. The oldest of the Titans retired to Elysium, at the very core of the world Chaos had woven together at the very beginning, and slept, choosing to ignore the plight of the world they had created. The Divine, the four daughters they left behind, were to oversee the world and everything on it.
Gaia and Mionette, Earth and Fire, danced through the world, creating a warm, safe environment for humankind and its children. Iremia and Aries, Air and Water, would laugh as they blew or washed away all they thought was evil or destructive to the world their parents had created.
Zeus, in his infinite arrogance, saw the Titans reigning supreme, and chose to lock them away or punish them until the end of everything. Cronus, the leader of the last remaining Titans that had not chosen to sleep, chose to devour his children instead of allowing the Olympians to overthrow him. In the end, Zeus prevailed and locked his father and his kin away in the very depths of Tartarus, proving, to himself at least, that the Titans were an inferior race of Gods. The Olympians were once again the dominant pantheon in the heavens.
Humans rejoiced as the destructive Titans were imprisoned for all time, praising the Olympians, Zeus especially, for taking care of them. With every cheer, the Olympians grew more and more overzealous of their ability to use the humans as their own cattle.
Since the dawn of philosophy, the strength of the Olympians passed out of all knowledge, allowing humans to spread their parasitic disease across all corners of the globe. Darkness crept back into the psyche of the world, bringing with it a nameless fear. Zeus, God of the Skies and Lord of Olympus watched this fear consume them and withdrew from the mortal world, making the decision to abandon the humans that once praised their name. The Olympians would live, forever eternal, and watch as man slowly destroyed itself.
The times have changed since the Olympians retreated to Mount Olympus. Fables have been written, stories have been told. Those stories became History. History became legend. The Olympians all but faded from memory, lost to the annals of time. Humans learned to live without them, and sailed across the world to begin life again. Borders were put in place and society was built again. Culture flourished, bringing with it new hope to an old flame. Could the Olympians return as the Gods they once were, or would humanity reject them once and for all?
The latter was true; humanity rejected them, telling the world that they were just stories to scare little children, old fables to explain the unexplained, as they did all things. Humans are fickle in this and all ways.
However, the world has changed. I feel it in the water, the earth. I smell it in the air. The winds of destiny are blowing, changing the world to suit its image once again. The Old Ones are rising, bringing with them the forces of destruction and recreation...
I must know them, before everything is lost to the old.