I Am Zeus-Chapter 78: Sibling Talk

The wind at the top of Olympus didn’t bite. It whispered. Soft. Cool. A god’s breath. A god’s lullaby.

Zeus stood on the balcony alone.

White robes loose around his frame, chest bare, hair tousled by the breeze. He didn’t blink. Didn’t sigh. Just stood still with that calm weight he always carried in his shoulders. A silence not born of peace... but memory.

He looked out over the realm he built. The white towers. The endless sky. The banners rippling gently along the spires. Everything carved, raised, shaped by hands—his hands. But not always. Not in the beginning.

Not before.

Before all this... he was just a man. A simple one. One with flaws. One with pain. He couldn’t even remember the name he had in that life anymore, just fragments. Laughter. Regrets. Cold nights. A woman he never saw again. Then the dream. Or the nightmare. He couldn’t tell which.

He remembered waking up as a child—no, an infant—with golden cuffs around his tiny wrists. Cold air. A dark cave. Rhea’s face blurred above him, panic in her eyes. And then the voice.

The system.

That strange screen only he could see.

Telling him who he was.

What he could become.

What he had to do.

From then... everything moved like lightning. He grew. Learned. Adapted. Every step laced with purpose. Every breath laced with pressure. He remembered fighting Cronus—not just a battle, but a declaration. A scream. A rebellion written in fists and thunder.

He freed his siblings. Hades. Poseidon. Hestia. Hera. Demeter.

He gave them the sky. Gave them a future.

Then came the war.

The Titanomachy.

He could still hear the screams. Smell the ash. The blood. Hear Hyperion’s roar. See Iapetus fall under Hera’s blade. Watch Rhea cry when she turned her back on her old love for her children’s future.

Ten days of blood and skyfire.

And they won.

He made Olympus from the bones of that victory. Not just a throne—but a kingdom. A home. Not for him. Not just for gods.

For the next age.

Then came the monster. Typhon.

He hadn’t been ready. None of them were.

That thing... born of Gaia’s grief and Tartarus’ laughter, crawling out of the pit with a thousand voices, each one screaming in hatred. It burned everything. Shook the skies. Tore the roots of the world.

And Zeus... had never felt so close to breaking.

But he didn’t.

He tore Typhon apart.

Thunder roared like judgment.

Lightning cut through flesh and darkness.

He didn’t just win.

He buried it.

Deep. Locked. Burned his own essence into the chains just to make sure it wouldn’t crawl back up again.

And when the last echo of the monster faded, Olympus called him what he already knew.

Godking.

Zeus.

He didn’t ask for it. But he didn’t deny it either.

Now, as he stood high above it all, he could feel it. The weight. The history. The scarred breath of a realm that had almost broken—and didn’t.

Not because of hope.

Not because of fate.

But because he was there.

He let the wind pass through his hair. Eyes half-lidded. Thunder rolled lazily across the horizon, like the sky stretched its back and yawned.

Then... movement.

Below.

Subtle.

Graceful.

Demeter.

Her footsteps on the garden path barely touched the marble. She didn’t look up, but Zeus saw her. The way her fingers brushed over the blooming flowers. The way sunlight bent toward her without her asking. Her hair—long, honeyed, loose in the breeze.

She didn’t wear her usual veil today. No royal formality. Just soft robes and bare feet as she walked among the petals.

Zeus didn’t move from the balcony, but something in his chest pulled faintly. Not desire. Not regret. Something else.

She had fought with him.

Bled beside him.

Cried when the Titans burned the forests.

Laughed once—just once—when Olympus finally stood.

They hadn’t spoken much since.

Not because of anger. But distance. Change.

She had her role. He had his throne.

But seeing her now... like that... reminded him.

They were gods, yes.

But they were once siblings born from pain.

Born from war.

He stepped back from the balcony and moved through the golden hallway, sandals brushing faintly against the floor. He didn’t announce himself. He didn’t need to.

By the time he reached the edge of the garden, she was already waiting.

Demeter didn’t turn. Just stared at the apple blossoms. Her voice was low. "You should rest, brother."

"I don’t sleep much," Zeus replied softly.

"I know."

A pause. Then she looked over her shoulder, and her eyes caught his. Brown, steady, unreadable.

"You’ve been thinking again," she said. 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

He didn’t deny it. "Can you blame me?"

"No."

Silence passed like mist.

She stepped toward a small bench beside the olive tree and sat. He followed, leaning against the trunk instead.

She spoke first. "The people are starting to call it the Age of Thunder."

He raised a brow. "Sounds like a poet’s name."

"It’ll stick. Whether you want it to or not."

He chuckled once under his breath.

Then went quiet again.

Her gaze drifted to him. "You’re not happy."

"I’m tired."

"You’re Zeus."

"I know."

Demeter didn’t push. She just sat there, folding her hands in her lap. "You saved the world."

Zeus nodded once.

"But that doesn’t mean it won’t try to break again."

"I know."

Her head tilted slightly, and her voice softened. "Are you scared?"

He looked at her.

Not as a king.

Not as a god.

Just a brother.

And for once, his voice was honest. "Yeah."

Demeter exhaled slowly. "Good."

He blinked. "Good?"

"If you weren’t... you’d be too far gone to save us next time."

He smiled faintly.

She stood then, brushing her robe. "We’re not done building, you know. This isn’t the end."

"I never thought it was."

Her hand touched his shoulder briefly as she passed. A soft weight. A sister’s reminder.

Then she was gone.

Back into the garden.

Zeus stayed under the olive tree for a while longer. Alone again.

The sky murmured.

His heart was quiet.

But he felt it.

Something stirring far below.

A tremble.

A whisper.

Tartarus.

He didn’t know what it meant yet.

But he would.

He always did.

Because no matter how high Olympus stood... the storm always found its way back.