1 PROLOGUE

Normal people go to the amphitheater, or the tavern if it's that time of the day. But the chief gods of Olympus weren't exactly normal—they weren't even people to begin with. On what counted as Sunday for Ancient Greece, Zeus, Hades, and Poseidon visited Apollo's Oracle in Delphi. The sun god was hosting a sneak peek for the greatest film in post-history: The future.

The deities sat before the stage sans popcorn and cola, lusting at the opening number of a birthday-suited prophetess. Even when they could have any woman in the planet, it was these mandatory virgins that always did it for them. Poseidon saw her as a lucid wet dream, and Zeus himself was ready to make sparks fly. Meanwhile Hades just wanted it to be over because Apollo's crib was too damn bright.

When the Oracle broke into a seizure, everyone knew they have ran out of trailers. The torches died, the atmosphere got solemn, and at least one of them suddenly felt like taking a piss. The woman contorted, writhed, and then succumbed to nausea, as if possessed by something from a parallel faith. And then her voice morphed to that of a neck-bearded quartet. "IN THE COMING YEAR, A DEMIGOD WILL BRING ABOUT THE FALL OF OLYMPUS! TORN IN HALF THE GODS WOULD BE, BORN A WORLD WITHOUT ITS DECREE!"

An image flashed in their collective minds, that of a boy in his peak pubescence. He wasn't that impressive, average at best, but then again, so were the rest of them inside Cronus' bowels. The curtains fell as the seer collapsed to the ground, making sure to froth in the mouth for that closing gravitas. Everything went back to normal, except for the shaken divinities who just got diagnosed of cancer.

It was a pretty straightforward affair considering the slew of past fortunes. Usually it was packaged as a fun riddle, sometimes with references to the moon, a king, and heroes that wanted no part of it. At the very least, it rhymed just as much.

But the management concurred that it was a twist wanting of a most serious editing.