Chapter 11: The Prelude to the Final Battle

“I don’t want to be in a battle ... but waiting on the edge of one I can’t escape is even worse.”

-- Pippin (as portrayed by William Nathan Boyd AKA Billy Boyd), The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King (2003), directed by Peter Jackson, screenplay by Fran Walsh, Philippa Boyens, and Peter Jackson, based on the novel by J.R.R. Tolkien. Copyright © New Line Cinema / Warner Bros. Entertainment.

A soft brilliant light emanated from torches of the smoothed walls of Mount Othrys for an important meeting that was convened.

Metis, the Titaness ... or was she a goddess now? She did not know. She would always been known by the distinction of Oceanus, certainly. All she could fully determine was that she represented wisdom to the council she had gathered. She stood at the head of the stone table before the assemblage of the Olympian deities.

Zeus sat at the other end of the table with Hades on his left and Poseidon on his right. Their expressions were etched with cautionary resolve.

Prometheus, Demeter, Hestia, and Hera all sat on one side while Themis and Mnemosyne sat on the other.

As the council grew comfortable in their seating, Metis addressed the assembly.

“I believe that the time we have awaited draws nigh for a final conflict with the Titans of Olympus. My sources say that Cronos himself shall step onto the battlefield.”

A solemn hush fell upon the assembly, for they knew that the arrival of Cronos marked a massive shift in their epic struggle. He had not battled since the very beginning of this great war.

“Why now?” Poseidon confusedly asked.

“From what I know, Cronos has mastered his divine power over time, and he believes he has the measure of you three,” Metis answered, motioning to Hades, Zeus, and Poseidon.

“Then he has an advantage,” Hades replied bluntly.

“Maybe,” Themis replied thoughtfully.

She knew her brother reasonably well, so when she spoke, it came from intimate knowledge. Further still, she did not speak often as she was a being of order, and to contribute to a conversation without adding value went against her very nature.

“But I think there are other parts of this battle that Cronos is not aware of,” she went on.

“Such as?” Hades inquired.

That was his nature. He was curious when it came to the counsel of his older counterparts. He did not care for their sex but rather the quality of their counsel.

“There is some dissent amongst the Titans. If we can hold Cronos off, or turn the battle, we might get enough of them to defect to our side,” Mnemosyne answered.

Metis nodded to acknowledge the Titaness’ words before speaking again. “With his imminent arrival comes the full measure of his power. Ready yourself. You must rest. Themis, Mnemosyne, and I will stand watch. When the Titans come down from Mount Olympus, we will meet this force.”

“Too bad we don’t have that rejuvenating ambrosia that Crius makes,” Poseidon said flippantly.

“We might see some change in that area,” Mnemosyne said calmly.

“Oh?” Hades asked, raising an eyebrow. With his arms crossed, he was ever the serious son of Cronos.

“Patience, Hades,” Themis said. “Things will reveal themselves with time. Further, we do not want to raise hopes, should our plan prove pointless.”

“What of your own advancements?” Metis wondered.

Poseidon looked confused by how much Metis knew. Then, before Poseidon could voice his concerns, Zeus responded. “My surprise for the Titans is coming along.” Zeus looked to his brothers.

“My Hooks might be able to rip free souls from their corporeal bodies sooner than later, Brother.”

Poseidon realized what Zeus was asking, but he felt unsure about answering in front of the others.

“Well, Brother?” Zeus asked. “Is Cetus ready?”

Poseidon motioned at the flesh above his liver. “Soon, the surprise will be ready.”

“My sisters and I have been working on a surprise or two of our own,” Hera put in.

Zeus nodded with satisfaction. “Then for now, we will trust that things will go apace and rest ourselves for the battle ahead.”

Metis nodded to the youngest son of Cronos. “Thank you, Zeus.”

Poseidon rolled his eyes at the pair. He, like most, was very much aware of the sexual connection between Metis and Zeus. While he did not care who his brother was in bed with, it mattered if Metis, who was supposed to be the advisor to each of the three brothers, was showing such blatant favoritism.

Although Metis could see the judgment within Poseidon’s eyes, she did not care. Everything was finally coming together. That was what mattered. When she was sure no one else would say anything, Metis struck the table, adjourning the meeting.

As the gods rested, Metis, Themis, and Mnemosyne looked out at the Valley of Thessaly. It had been destroyed by the carnage of the back and forth of the gods and Titans. When it came to what was brought to bear, nothing compared in memory.

“Are you sure Cratus and his siblings will defect?” Mnemosyne asked.

“I can’t be sure, but I think so,” Metis said. “I do not want to get the others’ hopes up though. Themis’ assessment was right.”

“Then what should we do?” Mnemosyne.

“I will head back to Olympus as one of my family members,” Metis said. “It has worked so far.”

“And will your presence sway him and his allies?” Themis wondered.

“I think so,” Metis nodded. “Cronos has been despondent. I did not have to ferment much dissent. Cronos poisons his allies against himself far more than I have. But with Crius, Hyperion, and Coeus having so much power, and being so loyal to Cronos, the other Titans lack the courage to turn on their king.”

The three divine women looked to one another. They understood better than their male counterparts the severity of their situation. Prometheus and Epimetheus might have been understanding of what was going on, but they felt the conclusion of this calamity in their bones.

“Are we at the end of it now?” Mnemosyne asked.

Metis looked at the other two with ominous uncertainty. “I think so. One way or another, this conflict is coming to a close.”

“Go, Metis,” Themis said. “One day, we will speak of your deeds and how they tipped the balance.”

Poseidon saw Metis depart for Olympus in her usual act of duplicitous spy work in the dead of night. He grabbed his trident while leaving his seastone sword at his bedside.

Those weapons had served him countless times in the war. Aquakinesis could only take Poseidon so far. He needed the metal and stonework of his uncles. In that way, the work of the Cyclopes and Hecatoncheires were second to none, and he was everlastingly grateful.

The beauty of his trident was that power flowed into it even as it flowed back into him. It built and built until he felt he might burst from the magical might bouncing between himself and the object. The energy needed to be released, and there were not always battles to take part in.

Thankfully, this very accumulation of might led to the creation of Cetus.

Poseidon brought himself to the coast and to the raging sea.

From the depths of the churning, unforgiving sea, there emerged a monstrosity that might have struck terror into the hearts of other beings, but to Poseidon, this was the most wondrous creation. Cetus was a colossal creature, both a living embodiment of the tempestuous oceans it called home as well as a manifestation of Poseidon’s desire.

Cetus had been brought into the world from a piece of Poseidon’s actual flesh that he had poured the excess power of himself and the Trident into. Rather than empowering the Trident, and its power feeding into Poseidon until one or both of them burst, he had given the power to his most wonderful creation.

Poseidon looked up at his monster. He wondered if this was what Prometheus and Epimetheus had felt when they made the deer, cattle, birds, and fish?

Its massive body was covered in thick, scaly hide as dark as the abyss. Coiling with powerful sinews that could propel it effortlessly through the water, Cetus’ form was a grotesque fusion of snakelike and leviathan. A serpentine tail trailed behind like a malevolent comet’s tail.

Its head sported a writhing tangle of tentacles that reached out with malevolent resolve. Their eyes had burning embers that smoldered in deep, sunken sockets to communicate that they were always watchful and ever hungry. A gaping maw lined with rows of jagged, obsidian teeth could swallow beings whole, crushing them within the clamorous jaws.

As it rose from the sea’s depths, the colossal creature sent towering waves crashing towards the shores. Poseidon marveled at the testament of Cetus’ dominion over the ocean.

The creature, in turn, bowed its head in deference to his creator, ally, and friend. For all of the beast’s ghastly features, the caring loyalty could not be mistaken in that moment between the two.