Echoes of Olympus: The Forging of Allies

From Gaia’s womb and Uranus’s fear, Rose Cyclopes, titans none could near. Brontes of Thunder, Steropes of Light, Arges the Bright, with a fiery might.

Yet beauty and power stirred dread in the skies, Uranus cast them where Tartarus lies. In darkness, they dwelled, bound and confined, Till Zeus’s call, their chains unbind.

Their forge roared bright, their hammers fell, Crafting tools of power to break the spell. For Zeus, the Thunderbolt, storms in his hand, For Poseidon, the Trident to rule sea and land. For Hades, the Helm, of shadowy guise, A cloak of invisibility, shrouding all eyes.

And from that abyss, strength yet unfurled, The Hecatoncheires, born to shake the world. Briareus, Cottus, Gyges of dread, A hundred hands, fifty heads they spread.

Imprisoned by Uranus’s crippling decree,
Till Zeus’s voice called, “Rise and be free!”
With boulders hurled and fury untamed,
They prepared for war, their vengeance proclaimed.

Gaia’s children, the forgotten and spurned,
From shackles of torment, to glory returned.
The forge of rebellion, the storm in their veins,
The Titans would tremble, bound by their chains.

And so, the Cyclopes and Hundred-Handed Ones,
Joined Zeus in the rising of battle’s drums.
Not yet the victor, not yet the fight,
But war’s preparations would blaze through the night.