Throughout his eternal life, Walter had witnessed countless summers, but never one as endless as this. He sat behind his glass desk, his head bowed as he read the petition before him, signed by nearly all of the minor gods and goddesses scattered throughout the world. Each vowed to stand aside and allow Cronus supremacy so long as it meant there would be no war. None of them seemed to understand that they were already in the middle of one.
Why would they? He and the remaining members of the council had done their jobs in shielding the world from Cronus’s destruction, but they would not last much longer. When Cronus finally broke free from his island prison in the Aegean Sea, the petition would be what it was: a meaningless piece of parchment full of names of those who would be the first to die.
“Daddy?”
He exhaled and straightened, prepared to scold whoever dared to disturb him, but he stopped short. His daughter stood in the doorway, her hair golden as the perpetual sunset poured in through the windows behind Walter. She was the one person he would not turn away.
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