Chapter 12: The Tumultuous Plains of Thessaly

“The war between the Titans and the Olympians forged the landscape of the mortal world. It was a war that we knew the Titans must win. If we lost, it would be an end to the golden age of the Titan rule. Peace and prosperity ... would be no more.”

-- Atlas (as portrayed by Michael Clarke Duncan), God of War II (2007), written by Marianne Krawczyk, Cory Barlog, and David Jaffe, copyright © Sony Interactive Entertainment.

The gods gathered at the base of Mount Othrys under Helios’ blazing sun. Their very presence cast long shadows across the vast Plains of Thessaly even if the sun was not at their back. The sky above was a brilliant blue canvas. Entirely untouched by clouds, it was as if the heavens did not know that this day would be the last of the Great Titan War.

The air shifted from the heat as they assembled for the impending battle of the Titanomachy. Each knew this would be a deadly day no matter how the day went.

At the forefront of the divine assembly stood three imposing figures of power and authority.

Zeus held his Master Bolt in his left hand as his gleaming golden fist was on his right hand. The bolt’s edges glinted brilliantly in the harsh sunlight, enshrouding Zeus in an aura of lightning-infused power.

Hades brandished his Bident with its twin prongs casting ominous shadows on the ground. The chained hooks were wrapped around his wrist. He wore his helm, but the magic was not activated so he was still visible to his counterparts.

Poseidon gripped his trident tightly with his left hand. The moisture in the air swirled around his weapon and fist. His right hand was resting on the hilt of his sword, which was tied to his belt on his waist. The second son of Cronos was prepared to wield them both in the battle that was to come.

Behind this formidable trio, Metis bore what the others had considered what was once Zeus’ Aegis. The shield was smooth with golden flecks and charged as a receptacle of power.

Hera cradled a bow, which fired ethereal arrows. Hestia carried a staff crafted from wood and adamant. Demeter, her golden hair catching the sun’s rays, wore twin gauntlets, each intricately etched with symbols of the seasonal elements. Though she had understood the blooming flower and burning sun, she did not know why there was a wilted leaf and frozen wheat on them.

Prometheus stood tall and resolute with and axe in hand and his twin, Epimetheus, by his side.

Above them, perched on the heights of Mount Othrys, Mnemosyne and Themis kept watch over the assembly. Mnemosyne, the Titaness of memory, reached out with her mind, connecting it to Metis and Zeus, so she might counsel them in the battle ahead. Themis scanned the horizon with her eyes for any signs of approaching danger, and she could see the Titanic contingent approaching.

The Titans of Mount Olympus assembled for the impending battle against the young gods of Othrys. At the forefront of the Titan army were Cronos, Hyperion, Coeus, and Crius.

Cronos stood as the ever-formidable leader of the Titans. Regardless of whatever mistakes he had made in the last ten years, the legend of him slaying his father had given him a legend that made it impossible to oppose him. He held the very scythe that had decapitated his father in his strong grip. He surveyed the Plains with caution over the enemy he knew was waiting for him.

Beside him, Hyperion wielded his torch, which bore a piece of the Flames of Olympus. As a fire made of Hyperion’s Titan magic and a blessing for the Great Progenitor, Its flames danced with an insatiable hunger and cast an eerie glow across his face; this fire would consume all it touched. Hyperion’s presence alone ignited fear among the Titans, for he was a force of nature unto himself.

Coeus, as the Titan of intelligence, watched the unfolding events with his usually thoughtful gaze. Within Coeus was the wisdom of ages. While he did not voice it, he hoped that his strategic mind would make the difference in the upcoming conflict.

On the other hand, Crius never left Cronos’ side during the last ten years. It mattered little to him if his wrists were forever scarred by the battle he and his siblings had with Ouranos. While his physical strength was limited, he was still considered a potent threat to any being, whether Titan or god, that was stupid enough to find himself as their enemy. He stood with a quiet stoicism that was unmatched by his siblings.

The Titans began a march forward, and the ground trembled beneath their steps. They were only a bit taller than the godly opposites, but they were weightier in their magnitude. The final battle between Olympus and Othrys was about to begin.

The sky darkened with impending doom. Clouds loomed at their back as the battle was imminent. Cronos stood at the head of an army of Titans, both known and famous as well as nameless and forgotten.

The Titan King raised his head, signaling for the young titans to go forth and prove themselves. As they charged out, Zeus retaliated.

The tumultuous clouds above thundered and rattled with light. Zeus launched himself into the air and hurled his Master Lightning Bolt into the clouds. After swallowing up his artifact, the raging heavens unleashed a torrent of explosive tendrils of electricity at his opposition.

The army of lesser titans below were struck down because they had no power to defend themselves against the might of Cronos’ white haired son. Hyperion simply raised his torch, protecting himself, Coeus, and Crius. Cronos lifted his hand, and a swirl of temporal shielding protected its master. The bolt struck at his hand but crashed against the barrier Cronos only to hover there before returning to the heavens.

The many nameless titans, however, proved ill-prepared for the fight ahead and were consumed by the Lightning Prince’s attack for their failure.

It was Atlas who stood forward, saying, “I will handle him, Lord Cronos.”

Cronos nodded to give permission, and Atlas charged forward without a moment’s hesitation.

Zeus, in his frustration, received his Thunderbolt from the heavens. He had hoped his power might be enough to take out the bigger opponents but decimating most of the smaller titans was a start.

“Did you really think it would be that easy?” Poseidon teased. The smile never left his face no matter how long the war went on.

“I had to hope,” Zeus said with an incorrigible smirk and a shrug.

With indifferent feelings, Hades motioned towards Atlas, who was running toward them. “Should not one of us handle him?”

“Remember when he was the biggest threat we faced?” Zeus wondered.

Poseidon let out a laugh, and Hades replied.

“Oh ... To be young and stupid.”

“May I?” Poseidon asked, giddy at the proposition.

“After you,” Zeus said, offering Poseidon the entire Valley with outstretched hands.

Poseidon let out bursts of laughter. He threw himself into the air. A wave of water flowed up from its master’s call, being pulled from the river, but it was coming deeper still from the delta, and the sea so much further away all for the purpose of its master to ride out onto the field.

Atlas was shocked by Poseidon’s appearance; whether that was because he was one of the three brothers or because he was not one of his brothers, Poseidon could not know. The son of Iapetus continued to run, believing his immense strength would turn this tide, but then the water crashed into him.

The aquatic attack threw the powerful titan farther away from the battlefield. When Poseidon landed, the earth quaked at his command. Atlas faltered at the shaking tremor.

“You’re not Zeus!” Atlas said.

Poseidon almost threw his hands up in annoyance. Everyone wanted Zeus. Hades was the oldest. If people wanted Hades over Poseidon that would make sense, but everyone wanted Zeus. Was it because he threw the bolt that freed Poseidon and Hades from Cronos’ belly, or did the Titans know something Poseidon did not?

“It’s a shame for you that I’m not,” Poseidon proclaimed.

He withdrew his sword, holding the ground with his trident and sword. He would not be moved by what was to come.

“You are no match for my might,” Atlas said with a confident smirk.

“You might be right,” Poseidon said, stabbing forward with his trident. “Pity for you, I’m not.”

Atlas side-stepped, but Poseidon was quick to follow up and slash his sword. Atlas was powerless to prevent the blade from cutting into his ribs. That was exactly what the sea god needed.

“But he is!”

Atlas reacted all too late as one of the many legs of Cetus wrapped around the Titan’s body. Poseidon laughed as Cetus pulled Atlas into the ocean. A stream of golden ichor could be seen from the land to the waters.

The middle son of Cronos and Rhea ran after the screaming titan. His battle was going quite well.

“Atlas!” Crius screamed.

“It is no matter,” Cronos said with a wave of his hand.

“Atlas was our field general!” Coeus exclaimed.

“With no army to lead,” Cronos said calmly. “It shall come down to us.”

Coeus paused to look at his brother. When the Intelligent Titan blinked twice and saw no room for Cronos to budge, he gave in. There must have been a method to Cronos’ madness. He did not know what it was, but he trusted his king this far; he could trust him to the end.

“Very well!” Coeus said. “Who next, then?”

“Me!” Crius interjected with angered anticipation. The Titan of Battle and Constellations ran forward and jumped to the center of the battlefield.

“And me!” Hyperion exclaimed, summoning a lesser tornado of fire for himself to ride. He would back up his brother with all of his might.

Crius was out on the battlefield with Hyperion by his side. They wondered who would come to confront them. While their side had fewer combatants after Zeus’ little display, they were mighty.

Zeus and Hades recognized that, and they considered going together, but when Hyperion joined Crius’ side, the two hesitated.

“If we both go and Cronos holds back, we will look weaker,” Zeus said to Hades.

The eldest brother nodded in agreement. Metis’ advice since the earliest days had been sound, and it influenced each of their actions since the earliest days.

“Oh, fuck off!” Hera said from behind them. “It won’t matter if we don’t stop them.” She turned her head to look at Demeter and Hestia. “Sisters!”

The three women jumped into the fray. Hera fired her bow at Hyperion, immediately followed by Hestia striking a powerful blow to his chest. Demeter commanded a swirling tempest of ice and snow around her body but with an additional concentration around her fists.

The grand fire Titan was overwhelmed by the onslaught of weaponry from the women. He fell back. When Crius turned to look at his brother, he was caught aback by Hades’ Hooks clamping into his shoulders.

Crius was enraged by the dishonorable tactic.

“Is this how you gods mean to claim Olympus?” exclaimed the warrior of a Titan.

“It does not matter how we claim Olympus, just that we do,” Hades said through straining teeth.

“Whatever you think you’re doing, little godling, you will have to do better,” Crius proclaimed, pulling the chains from Hades’ grip. “If it were not for my father, I would still be the mightiest Titan.”

“I guess I will settle for defeating the second-mightiest Titan, then!” Hades exclaimed. He brandished his Bident as he became invisible.

Crius looked left and right. “Coward!”

“Perhaps!” Hades laughed. “But I shall be victorious.”

Crius could do nothing as Hades slashed and stabbed at the more powerful being with his Bident.

Zeus looked at Metis. Uncertainty coated his eyes, but confidence washed over her.

“Are you sure Coeus will not interfere?”

“I think not. Coeus serves the same purpose as Themis and Mnemosyne. He will counsel Cronos.”

“That’s good enough for me!” Zeus said, hurling a lightning strike at his father. The trajectory of this bolt was quickly followed by the flight of Zeus himself towards the Titan King.

On the battlefield, all of the divine beings were either unconscious or engaged in their own conflicts. This left Cronos to face Zeus in single combat.

Cronos was no fool. He held his hand up, freezing the bolt in the air. When Zeus was close enough, he reversed the bolt’s direction, firing it at the impetuous son.

“Child’s play,” Cronos remarked.

“Perhaps,” Zeus groaned when he struck the ground in pain. “But you didn’t see the shield.”

“What shield?” Cronos asked, even as the Aegis itself struck him on the head.

The blow had flown at him with a might that would have caught Cronos aback even if he had expected the attack. As it was, the protective buckler had knocked him back as Zeus unleashed a cascading storm of rattling lightning strikes.

Further and further, the barrage pushed Cronos back. The Aegis returned to Metis’ grip as she recalled the divine shield.

Yet, even as Zeus took a moment to breathe, Cronos laughed triumphantly.

The Titan King regained his footing and reached for his divine privilege of command over time. Temporal power was there waiting for him. He rewound the effects done to his body and the wounds began to seal themselves shut.

“It is good to see Coeus’ assessment of you was true, son,” Cronos remarked with a laugh. “Unfortunately for you, you young gods have fallen perfectly into our hands.”

Zeus looked back onto the battlefield as Hyperion unleashed flames to encircle the women just as Crius summoned a star’s gravitational power to ensnare Hades. Simultaneously, earthquakes struck, and Zeus was starting to realize that Cronos had more than prepared for the battle.

Perhaps the final fight had been decided before Zeus had even stepped forward. His eyes widened in shock, and he began to wonder: Had Cronos truly prepared for all of them? Was the outcome already determined?

The sons of Iapetus stood together on a rocky outcrop on Mount Othrys. Their vantage point made it interesting to observe all of the mayhem that was being wrought by both the reigning Titans and the gods on the rise.

Prometheus and Epimetheus saw the world very differently. Some might be foolish enough to think that only Prometheus was the one worth paying attention to. After all, he was the bright one that could plan ahead, but those opinions would be seen as foolish by the lights of Prometheus.

He and his brother had different points of view as well as unique perspectives in which they saw reality. Together, they saw the present, much like anyone in existence. But Prometheus’ gift was that of foresight. He could take a moment with understanding of who the individuals were and how they might turn out in the future.

His foresight was not some magical gift like the Fates where he saw the destiny of all. His ability was to understand and plan. If option Alpha happened, then it was likely that outcome Beta or Gamma would eventually occur.

What he admired about his brother was that he possessed the gift of hindsight. Epimetheus could interpret the past, whether success or failure, and use that to understand the present. For example, Cronos had devoured his sons, so when a free soon walked the earth, it only made the most sense that he would liberate his brothers and then sisters.

In that way, some might compare Epimetheus to Mnemosyne or even Clothos of the Fates.

The greatest truth that most did not understand, however, was that Prometheus was at his wisest when he heeded his brother’s counsel. After all, How can one plan for the future, even with the knowledge of the moment, unless they understood the context of how people got there? In that way Foresight was worthless without the wisdom of Hindsight.

After their father’s passing, the two became more intertwined than ever before. In their united opinion, this was the only way they could be of assistance to Metis and the three brothers.

As it was, they found themselves watching over the final battle in their own unique way. Prometheus studied the battle with a thoughtful expression. He had to consider how the fighting would play out. Would this day call for him and his brother to join the fray? They had often stayed away from conflict, but that was probably for the best.

Epimetheus was often impulsive and sometimes far braver because of that very impulsivity; on this day, however, he stood by Prometheus’ side. It was clear that on this day he would defer to his more forward thinking sibling.

“What shall we do, brother?” Epimetheus asked.

“We cannot stay here, Epimetheus,” Prometheus answered, with a shake of his head. His voice carried a sense of urgency. “This battle...” he paused to consider what he might say, “It’s unpredictable, and the outcome is altogether uncertain.”

“But then what shall we do?” Epimetheus asked. He did not mean to allow annoyance ino his words, but they were intertwined all the same from his brother’s evaluation.

“Look at Atlas, striking at Poseidon. Look at Zeus and his father. So on and so forth. Let me ask you, brother? If these Titans fall, where will they go?”

Epimetheus nodded, finally comprehending the gravity of the situation.

“Mount Olympus,” he said, finishing Prometheus’ thought. “That’s where any of them would go if he’s defeated. That is why these battles stop. No one wants to destroy the seat of power.”

Prometheus nodded. He made a slight motion with his hand for his brother to continue. While others doubted the quick thinking of his brother, Prometheus did not.

“We must get there first,” Epimetheus added, catching his brother’s line of thinking.

Prometheus nodded in agreement of his brother’s assessment once again.

“Those were my thoughts as well. Once there, we must find and steal their ambrosia, so even if the Titans flee, they cannot replenish their lost strength and stamina.’

“Then, their retreat would leave them vulnerable and unable to heal from their wounds,” Epimetheus surmised, recognizing the brilliance of his brother. “To Olympus, then,” he said, his voice filled with resolve.

With a shared understanding, the two brothers raised their arms. They disappeared in an instant tower of light.

“Is there nothing we can do?” Mnemosyne asked.

As the Titaness of Memory, she had a unique knowledge of most everything that had come before. She did not see the past as Clothos did. Rather, her mind could see the memories of every person whose mind she had touched. It was a useful ability, to be sure, but it hardly could shift the position of the battle.

“Not as we are,” Themis mused. “If we attacked Coeus, perhaps we would take away Cronos’ advantage, but Cronos’ powers over temporal material might prevent us from ever reaching their war advisor.”

“Not unless we can get Cronos off guard. If we can catch him off guard, there’s a chance Cronos’ power might fail,” Mnemosyne considered.

She had recalled how Ouranos had been unable to call upon his power of the sky, lightning, and wind back when her brothers had struck at him. If they were all similar, focus was required for their powers to work.

“What are you thinking?” Themis asked.

“I think we should appeal to a higher ... older power,” Mnemosyne replied, bending her knees in supplication. “Mother Earth ... Please. Hear my call. This battle that wages in Thessaly will consume all of Greece. Perhaps even the world. Help us save your grandchildren.”

When no answer came, it was Themis that joined in the supplication. “We beseech you, Gaia. We cannot overcome the Titans without your aid. Please. Help us overcome the tyranny of Cronos’ reign.”

They could never know the tradition they were beginning and the repercussions that would ensue. However, the first true prayer in the land of Greece had been done. Their beseeching petition would be answered one way or another, and for that, the course of all that had come before would be ready for upheaval.

As the battle on the Plains of Thessaly raged, the very earth acquired scars from the epic clash between young gods and Titans. Hyperion’s flame, Demeter’s cyclone, Zeus’ lightning, Poseidon’s raging waters, Hera’s arrows, Crius’ starfire, and Hades’ might with his formidably fearsome Bident all inflicted damage upon the contested realm they all wished to rule.

Careless abandon was being brought down by both sides. Their only thoughts were of bringing their power out and conquering the other side.

The earth trembled beneath the feet of the divine combatants, and the skies crackled with the energy of their immense power. There was nothing but confusion and uncertainty from both sides of this battle. Heads turned to try and find the source.

In the midst of the battle, Gaia the Primordial Mother Earth emerged from the soil and dirt outside of the battleground. Despite how many were shaken by the revelation, their conflicts mattered more to the combatants.

Poseidon grappled fiercely with Atlas even as Cetus threw the two divine beings onto the coast. Their conflict sent shockwaves through the earth and caused tidal waves to surge in the distance.

Hades clashed with Crius, dodging left and right from powerful starlight-infused blows while landing sporadic shots. Craters were created from their overwhelming exchanges.

Zeus and Metis faced off against the mighty Cronos. Those three froze as the appearance of the monumental Primordial.

Hera, Demeter, and Hestia were trying to confront Hyperion, whose torch bore the all-consuming Flame of Olympus. They knew how serious his power was, so they tried to create a brilliant light that would counter the searing power of Hyperion’s flames. Their combined efforts created a dazzling spectacle of light and fire.

One blow from the Earth Primordial obtained everyone’s attention. Even the sea monster known as Cetus was not one to defy the matriarch of Olympus.

The Earth Primordial did not seem to care who gave her reverence and who did not. Nothing would prevent her from her course. Gaia unleashed her power by raising her arms high, and the earth itself responded to her command. The very ground beneath the combatants surged out and upward, forming an immense dome that enveloped them all.

Within this earthen prison, most of the gods and Titans found themselves trapped. They could stare in powerlessness at the actions of the child of Chaos. Only Atlas and Poseidon’s fight was separated from the cage because Cetus’ intervention earlier had dragged them away from the central portion of the skirmish and the earth. This brought them to the waters at the edge of the plains.

The divine beings exchanged bewildered glances.

“Mother!” Cronos exclaimed. “You would betray me?”

“No!” Gaia’s voice echoed through the hearts and minds of the combatants. “I use my power to protect the realms of Greece. This battle shall be contained to the here and now. Only one group may leave this battlefield.”

Both sides looked up to Gaia’s creation. Like children who had been caught doing wrong, they felt ashamed that their actions had elicited Gaia’s intervention.

Then, however, a new thought crossed all of their minds. Only one side would be allowed to leave. Each fighter was compelled to ensure it would be their side that left victorious. Some felt remorse in that realization; others felt motivated. but this would be some of the combatants’ finest hour.

An overpowering aroma of soot, burnt grass and soil, spilt ichor, and heated metal mixed together to overpower any who smelled it. The obnoxious odor was the antithesis of the air on Mount Olympus, which almost had a tangible sensation of serenity to Prometheus and Epimetheus. Having left the Plains of Thessaly for the mountain, the twin sons of Iapetus could appreciate the stark differences between the battlefield and the heart of the Titans’ citadel.

Their arrival went unnoticed because most of Cronos’ force were among those on the battlefield. And others had decided to spectate the event from a safe distance. Prometheus almost rolled his eyes at the state of Olympus’ emptiness.

Had Cronos left no one to defend the home of the Titans? Had the Titans of Olympus fallen into such decadence that they no longer accepted the severity of the situation of war?

He hoped that was not the case. In fact, as Prometheus led the way through the city, he recalled how jealously Cronos held onto power. That seemed the more likely of the two options, yet in the deepest part of the cynicism, he knew better about the lesser titans of Olympus. They served Cronos out of fear and without a single thought behind it.

Events had made their leader into a cruel despot like Ouranos. If he had lost their trust, they might have gone off to watch the war as if it were just a game to them.

As they traversed the gilded corridors, they could hear the distant roar of the battle below. To the both of the twins, the battle could never simply be a spectacle. The punctuating thunderous bellow of Titans and the resounding thunderbolts of Zeus told Prometheus that matters of life and death were being decided in the most brutal of ways.

The brothers hastened from the noise. They could not forget or be distracted from the urgency of their mission.

They reached the imposing doors of Cronos’ palace. They did not need to look at one another for Epimetheus to push the doors open soundlessly.

Inside, the palace was a marvel of divine craftsmanship. The luxurious chamber would have been impressive if they did not have such an important task.

Prometheus and Epimetheus moved soundlessly over the marble floor. They ignored the priceless artifacts, statues of Titans and Primordials in their splendor, and shelves filled with ancient scrolls for their singular task.

If Epimetheus had asked Prometheus who the scrolls were from (since Epimetheus knew that Cronos was not a scribe to write things down), Prometheus would have said it was Coeus or Hyperion. As it was, they came upon a large room within the palace without distraction. A casual glance inside revealed the essence of liquid luminescence.

The ambrosia was contained in a grand crystalline carafe. It both glistened and glowed with the luminous essence of the celestial, resembling nothing less than a wine crafted of starlight.

Epimetheus could not help but marvel at its beauty. After all, unlike his brother, he had not been privy to Olympus. It was Prometheus that everyone thought did the work of creation even back when Iapetus was alive.

On the other hand, Prometheus remained focused on their mission. He hesitated at first because he was unsure of how to handle the material. He carefully lifted the carafe with utmost care.

With their prize in hand, the brothers made their exit from the palace. They had to be careful in retracing their steps through the ornate corridors because they had a prize worth more than all of the art, material, and decoration in all of Olympus.

The brothers were about to make their exit from Cronos’ palace when the formidable form of Cratus (along with his siblings: Bia, Nike, and Zelus) blocked their path. The two of them froze. Their gaze bounced from the family and then to one another and then back to the children of Pallus.

Cratus was easily a sturdy seven feet tall with powerful stature mixed together with air of authority. To confront the sons of Iapetus by himself was not outside the realms of possibility for him. To be backed by his siblings was unnecessary but useful in the intimidation that he commanded.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, his voice resonating with the raw power of his Titan heritage.

Prometheus, ever quick-witted, responded calmly, “We are doing our utmost to bring about the downfall of the Titans, as you should be doing if what Metis said about you is true.”

Cratus was caught aback by the declaration. Whatever he had expected from the son of Iapetus, this was not it.

Bia had not lost her fierceness from the jibe, so she chimed in, “And how, pray tell, can you make such an accusation when you have fled from the battlefield?”

Epimetheus met her gaze. This was one of the small moments where his inability to consider the future made him brave.

“We have secured the ambrosia should Cronos or his allies return.”

“Is that all you can do? When there is a battle to fight?” Nike asked. Challenge was in her eyes and voice.

“There are those fighting it,” Prometheus countered quickly. “Though given your great powers, I am shocked you have not lent your aid.”

The siblings flinched as one. To have their very valor questioned was not something they had expected. While they might have challenged such a charge, it was clear from the looks of shame on their face that they had questioned the state of their own courage for staying in the divine mountain city.

Zelus was next to raise their voice in challenge after a few moments.

“We know the consequences of defying Cronos and his siblings,” he answered. “Have you not heard of Selene and Helios? They are trapped in the heavens because they dared question Hyperion and Cronos. The reprisal of Titans is without compare.”