Tyche's arrival on Polaris was unannounced, yet the wolves—ever loyal and eager—immediately surrounded her with joyous howls. They rolled onto their backs, offering their bellies for her touch.
Though she often scolded them for their rampant breeding that left the island in uproar, she could not deny the fondness she felt upon seeing them again. Smiling, she ran her hands over their fur and followed their lead to where Kannas waited.
The God of Calamity swiftly appeared, shooing away his mother's enthusiastic entourage. He welcomed her warmly, delighted to show off his newly built temple.
Tyche had never truly worried about her eldest son. The Olympians still respected him as a wielder of sky dominion, and he was no weakling—especially under Astraea's watchful eye. Were he ever to falter, she would have little choice but to reforge his spirit entirely.
She strolled through the grand halls of his domain, pleased by its majestic architecture though noting its emptiness.
"You mustn't live like a hermit," she mused aloud. "Now that you've settled here, it is time you took attendants of your own."
After a moment's thought, she added, "Your aunts—the Naiads and River Goddesses—have many capable offspring who would gladly serve a deity of your stature."
Kannas' eyes lit up. "Then I shall ask for archers! Skilled hunters to accompany me across the stars."
As they spoke, the thundering sound of wheels announced the return of Zeus in his chariot.
He did not come alone. Behind him followed the sons of Eos and Astraeus—gods of the wandering stars.
Five minor deities of celestial light made their reverent bows before the two mighty goddesses present: Phaethon of Saturn, Pyroeis of Mars, Phosphoros of Jupiter, Hesperus of Venus, and Stilbon of Mercury.
Smiling, Tyche greeted them gently. "And how fares your mother, Lady Eos?"
Phaethon lowered his gaze, standing respectfully behind Zeus. "Our mother shows signs of nearing Middle Godhood, my lady. She now resides within the Temple of the Radiant Goddess, preparing for ascension."
Tyche offered kind words of encouragement. "The Radiant Goddess Theia and Helios will safeguard her passage. Her ascent shall be smooth."
Though the star-gods bowed in gratitude, their expressions remained subdued. Tyche did not press them further, turning instead to her younger son.
Zeus met her gaze calmly. "They are now my vassal gods. I have already received the blessings of Astraeus and Eos."
Observing her son's growing poise, Tyche smiled with pride. "I shall mark out a domain in the heavens for your court. You will prove to all that their faith in you was well-placed."
The planetary deities hastened to shift their stellar domains into Zeus' realm while he turned to his mother. "May I ask why you have come?"
"I wished to speak with Selene," she replied. "But I would not disturb her duties. So I sought a place to wait until night passed."
She glanced approvingly at her youngest. "You have done well by your brother."
Kannas' protest was ignored as the three deities rose and followed the descending moon toward the eastern mountains.
Selene was the first to greet them, stepping down from her silver chariot with rare delight. "My lady Tyche, you are the first Sovereign Goddess to visit my temple."
The two embraced warmly before Selene ushered them inside, bidding her attendants bring forth wine and refreshments.
"Surely, the arrival of the Skyborn Goddesses is not merely for pleasure?" she asked with a knowing smile.
Tyche shook her head. "I came seeking your aid—but also to offer my congratulations upon Eos' impending ascension."
Selene's dark eyes flickered with surprise. "No word has reached us from the Radiant Court, yet you knew."
Tyche caught the subtle hesitation in Selene's tone and cast a sidelong glance at her composed son. Zeus simply lifted his goblet with an unreadable smile.
"A golden opportunity awaits," Tyche said cryptically.
Selene brightened, then quickly tempered her excitement. "Mother and Helios accompany Eos to Father's domain. I cannot interrupt such a sacred moment."
"There is no need to trouble the Luminaries at the world's edge," Tyche interjected, recalling the ever-distracted Helios. "I cannot promise success, only that this may be a favorable chance. The timing of your ascension remains yours to decide."
Relief softened Selene's tension. Opportunities to ascend were rare; she had feared missing this one might mean none other.
Her resolve ignited, she met Tyche's gaze with newfound determination. "Tell me what you propose."
Tyche wasted no time. "Thanatos complains of the overwhelming number of mortal souls. Though he labors tirelessly, the dead continue to accumulate upon the earth."
She paused meaningfully. "If you were to take charge of guiding these souls, perhaps the path to your own ascension would become clear."
Selene hesitated, considering the endless burden such a duty would entail.
Tyche remained silent, watching as the moon goddess weighed comfort against ambition.
At last, Selene's voice rang firm. "I accept the task."
Tyche nodded in approval. "Thanatos shall carve the soul-guide domain from Death's essence and grant it to you. Be prepared—it is no simple undertaking."
"The power of the Moon can bring peace to the departed. It shall guide both them and you."
Grateful for the wisdom, Selene bade farewell to the divine guests, watching as mother and sons departed. With quiet resolve, she set forth into the Underworld to seek out Thanatos.
With tender affection, Tyche kissed the foreheads of her two sons before departing. As she turned to leave, she cast one last meaningful glance at Zeus and murmured, "Time is slipping away. Do not let the halls of Mount Othrys remain empty for long."
The Thunder God had never set foot in his own divine temple upon Olympus. Now, having come into communion with the gods of sky and sea, it was time he met those who dwelled upon the earth.
Tyche returned to her Isle of Mist, where a long-awaited guest awaited her arrival with an exasperated sigh.
"Tyche," said Pontus, "I suspect Aphrodite's exile bears your hand."
She replied with equal weariness, "She struck first."
Pontus was unsurprised. Aphrodite wielded the gifts of beauty and love bestowed by Eros himself—but wisdom had never been among them.
"She came to me," he continued. "Gaia wishes for Aphrodite's return to Olympus."
"That," Tyche replied with feigned innocence, "depends entirely on Queen Rhea."
Pontus sighed. "Rhea has ignored Gaia's request. What troubled me most was that Gaia did not seem angered—only shocked."
A chill passed through Tyche. She knows.
Perhaps, she quickly added, changing the subject, "Because she finally realized she can no longer control her children. Not even when she forced Mnemosyne—who obeyed her most—to relinquish her Sovereign seat?"
Pontus groaned. "If Gaia herself cannot command obedience from the Olympians, why does she expect me to succeed?"
Tyche's thoughts raced. Indeed—why would Gaia turn to him?
Then it struck her like lightning. Gaia hadn't turned to Pontus at all. She had turned to Eros —the true source of love's power, hidden behind Aphrodite and the sea-god's lineage.
Gaia knows.
She knows what Rhea has done.
Understanding dawned. Gaia must have discovered that Rhea had consumed Cronus. And her message to Eros was clear: if Aphrodite were to return to Olympus, then Rhea's love must be undone.
Tyche nearly spoke—then stopped herself. How could she explain such knowledge without revealing her own role?
In that moment, she grasped another layer of Gaia's intent. This was a warning. A silent declaration: I know you know.
Now it was Tyche's turn to smile bitterly. If she told Pontus, he would use the truth as leverage against Rhea. And Rhea would assume Tyche had betrayed her—perhaps even strike a deal with Gaia to eliminate her altogether.
Yet silence was no better. Desperate, Pontus would still seek Eros' aid. The Primordial of Love would see through Rhea's twisted heart and understand Gaia's meaning. He would strip Rhea of her corrupted affections. In exchange, Gaia would force Rhea to recall Aphrodite—and remove Mnemosyne from the throne entirely, leaving only the goddess of desire.
Two Primordials united. A new alliance forged between Earth and Desire.
Gaia had laid the trap perfectly—throwing the burden into Tyche's lap.
Pondering endlessly, Tyche found no perfect solution. Time slipped away, and hope drained from Pontus' eyes. Then, inspiration struck.
If I cannot win both sides, I shall win one.
She closed her eyes briefly, and once more, her gaze gleamed with radiant white light—drawing Pontus' attention.
As the god watched, entranced, her avatars moved unseen through the mists. One reached into the sacred pool and retrieved the golden hourglass—the very one sealed by Rhea's temporal magic and buried beneath the waters.
While the main Tyche stalled, her manifestations unbound the seal and turned the sands.
Above Olympus, Rhea felt the whisper of the sands and cautiously extended a fragment of her consciousness into the veil of mist.
Before Pontus, Tyche opened her eyes and delivered her answer—cloaked in the voice of fate.
"Seek the aid of Aphrodite's unborn child, O Seaborn One."
Pontus departed swiftly, diving into the abyss to find Eros.
No sooner had he vanished than a second visitor arrived.
Without pretense, Tyche relayed Pontus' plea to Rhea—and subtly hinted at Gaia's strange behavior.
Rhea dismissed Aphrodite and Pontus with quiet indifference, her eyes glinting with cold fire.
"You summoned me merely to tell me this?" she asked coolly.
"I suspect Gaia already knows what you've done," Tyche pressed. "And she may try to use it against you."
Rhea smiled gently—dangerously. "And why, dear Tyche, do you share this with me?"
Tyche met her gaze without flinching. "To avoid unnecessary war. You and I both know Gaia may claim I revealed this to you. And you—ever the actress—would pretend to believe her, just so you could make my life difficult."
"It serves neither of us."
Their eyes clashed—two titans locked in silent battle.
Finally, both offered false smiles—thin veils over their wariness.
Graciously, Rhea thanked her. With effort, Tyche returned a stiff, equally insincere grin.
As the Queen's presence began to fade, Tyche called out, her voice sharpened with urgency.
"Rhea! You are a formidable foe—one worth fearing. But you are capable of far more than clinging to love and despair."
A pause.
"This was never your fault. It was Cronus who failed you. Why won't you let go… and begin anew?"
For a fleeting moment, Rhea hesitated.
Then came her reply—final, anguished.
"I cannot."