Echoes of Olympus: Heracles and the Fall of the Giants

In the midst of chaos, one mortal did rise, Heracles, hero, with strength to surprise. With bow in his hand, and might in his chest, He stood firm against Giants, unyielding in jest.

Alcyoneus, the mightiest, immortal as long as he stayed, In his homeland, he was a god—until the Olympians played. Heracles tricked him, led him from his home, And with a blow, Alcyoneus fell, no longer to roam.

The earth shook and cracked with Alcyoneus’ fall, His immense form crumbling, his strength now a call. Heracles had broken the immortal's power, And the Olympians saw hope in their darkest hour.

Enceladus, too, with fire in his breath, Was struck by the gods, met his fiery death. Beneath Etna, he lay, his struggles still heard, A volcanic fury, his power uncurled.

The ground split open, and the sky turned red, As Enceladus fought on, but his time was dead. The gods hurled their weapons, their might at his core, Until the giant’s fire could rage no more.

Porphyrion, strong as the mountain’s own core, Faced the wrath of Zeus and Heracles’ roar. Together they struck, the ground shook and cracked, And down fell the giant, never to act.

The Olympians fought, but it was Heracles’ might, That turned the tides and restored the light. His strength was unmatched, his courage a flame, Without him, the gods might not have reclaimed.

Heracles, a mortal, stood tall and true, And struck down the Giants, one by one, through and through. Without him, the Olympians might not have won, But together they battled, and the war was undone.