The sky above Olympus had become a battlefield of ash, lightning, and blood as Hera and Seraphim led their assault against the gods. Titans crashed through marble temples while the Olympians fought desperately to hold their home. Apollo’s son, Guest, the young god of sunsets and dawns, stood shoulder to shoulder with his beloved, Surlus, Poseidon’s fearless son. Their movements were perfectly in sync, blades flashing with divine light and crashing waves as they defended one another without hesitation. Even amid the chaos, every glance they shared carried the quiet promise that neither would ever leave the other’s side.

That promise shattered in an instant. A towering Titan raised its enormous foot and brought it crashing toward Guest. Before he could react, Surlus slammed into him with all his strength, throwing him clear of the impact. The earth exploded beneath the Titan’s heel. Dust and broken stone filled the air, and when the giant finally lifted its foot, it continued lumbering forward without so much as a backward glance. Beneath the crushed stone lay Surlus, his body motionless. The sea-blue glow that had always danced in his eyes had vanished.

Guest whispered, stumbling across the ruined ground. He dropped to his knees and gathered Surlus into his arms, desperately searching for even the faintest breath or heartbeat. There was nothing. The warmth of dawn and the peace of sunset that had always lived inside Guest seemed to disappear all at once, replaced by a hollow emptiness so profound it felt as though someone had torn the sun from the heavens. His fingers trembled as he brushed the dust from Surlus’s face, tears falling freely onto the armor that would never rise again. Then a scream ripped from his chest—a cry of pure anguish that echoed across Olympus. It was not the roar of a warrior or the command of a god, but the sound of a heart breaking beyond repair, carrying every memory, every dream, and every promise they had shared.

The battlefield seemed to hesitate as Guest‘s cry rang through the mountains. Even gods and monsters alike glanced toward the grieving son of Apollo, feeling the weight of a sorrow too immense for words. Apollo himself froze, horror spreading across his face as he saw his son clutching Surlus’s body. The colors of dawn and sunset gathered around Guest like a storm, swirling with blinding gold, crimson, and violet, answering the unbearable grief of their god. In that moment, the radiant deity who had always welcomed each sunrise and sunset with hope was gone, leaving behind only a devastated soul mourning the love of his life while Olympus continued to burn around him.