She called it a crisis, but at the time, that word felt strangely hollow to me. Vague. Weighty, sure—but unclear. I didn't really understand what was happening, not truly. All I knew was that something was wrong, and whatever it was, it had driven her to seek me out.
When I pressed her for answers—asking what kind of crisis she meant—she didn't explain. Instead, she told me to come with her. That she would show me with her own eyes. There was something in her voice then, something heavy and restrained, as if words alone weren't enough to convey what was going on.
And so, without much choice in the matter, we entered the Kingdom of the Titans.
The moment we crossed the threshold, an odd silence wrapped around us. It wasn't the peaceful kind. It was the kind that made your skin prickle, the kind that told you something was wrong long before your mind could put it into words.
For a kingdom ruled by titans, there were none to be seen.
Not one.
