CHAPTER 156: KHONSU

The desert was still shaking from Ra’s fall.

Ash and fire drifted across the dunes like snow, pyramids cracked into molten ribs, the Nile itself boiling in the distance. The Olympians stood together, battered and scarred, but alive. Their breaths came heavy, their weapons dripping blood and sand, their eyes hard as stone.

Zeus stepped forward. His storm dimmed, but sparks still crawled across his shoulders, his chest rising and falling like thunder trying to calm itself. He looked at Nyx, at Gaia, at his kin spread across the battlefield.

"It’s done," he said. His voice was rough, low. "We move."

Hades turned his pale eyes across the dunes. Poseidon leaned heavy on his trident, his waters still clinging to him in waves. Athena’s face was streaked with blood, but her spear was steady. Apollo and Artemis looked worn, their glow thin. Ares grinned despite the torn gash across his ribs. Hermes flickered nervously, sandals sparking in the sand. Nyx’s stars trembled faintly around her veil, Gaia’s roots bleeding stone dust into the air.

They were ready to leave, ready to vanish into the storm.

But a voice cut across the ruin.

Calm. Cold.

"Going so soon?"

–––

The Olympians froze.

Zeus turned.

And there he stood.

Khonsu.

The god of the moon.

His form was tall, lean, his skin glowing with pale silver. His head was falcon-shaped but smooth, not like Horus’s hawk but carved sleek, crowned with a disc of moonlight set upon a crescent. His eyes glowed faint, steady, holding neither rage nor fear but something heavier: patience. His robes were wrapped tight, banded like a priest’s, but glowing faint blue with runes of starlight. In his hand he held a crook, silver curved and dripping with lunar glow, its surface etched with ancient marks that shimmered with cold power.

The battlefield’s silence bent toward him.

Zeus’s eyes narrowed. Sparks flickered across his jaw. "And what’s this? You sat in the shadows while your kin died. While Ra burned. While the Primordials fell. You watched."

Khonsu chuckled softly, the sound low and bitter. "That’s what you think?" He stepped forward, his glow brushing across the broken sand. "I wasn’t hiding. I was imprisoned. Shackled by those same ancients you call Primordials. They feared me. Feared what I carry. And I suppose, in their desperation, they freed me at the last moment." His eyes, cold silver, swept the corpses of Shu, Geb, Tefnut, Nut, and Ra. "But I was too late to matter."

Zeus tilted his head. "Too late. Or too afraid?"

Khonsu’s smile sharpened, but it did not reach his eyes. "You mistake calm for fear, thunderer. I don’t like the old ones. Never did. But there were some here I respected. And you... you killed them all." He lifted his crook, the crescent flaring bright. "So what about we settle this ourselves?"

–––

The air snapped.

The Olympians shifted. Ares grinned wider, leaning on his blade. Athena raised her spear slightly. Hades’s eyes darkened, Poseidon’s trident hummed. But none of them moved.

This was between Zeus and Khonsu.

Zeus’s storm sparked louder, his fists curling tight. His chest bled, his shoulders trembled, but his eyes burned steady. "You want a fight? You’ll have it."

–––

Khonsu moved first.

The desert bent.

Moonlight spilled across the dunes, drowning the battlefield in pale glow. The sun’s ruin dimmed, the stars overhead silenced. Only the moon remained, full and heavy, casting light sharp as blades. The sand turned silver, every grain reflecting cold light until the world itself became a mirror of his will.

He struck.

The crook swept forward, arcs of lunar glow slicing through the battlefield. Zeus raised his arms, his storm erupting to meet it. Lightning clashed against moonlight, thunder detonating across silver beams. The blast tore dunes into glass, the ground splitting in jagged cracks.

Zeus roared, his fists hammering down. Lightning speared across the battlefield, a thousand bolts raining down. Khonsu’s glow bent them, curving arcs around him, twisting storm into crescents that shattered against the sand. He stepped forward, crook slashing upward, moonlight carving into Zeus’s chest. Blood sprayed, silver-lit, sizzling against the glass.

Zeus staggered, sparks flashing, then surged forward. His fist smashed into Khonsu’s jaw, thunder exploding outward. The moon god flew back across the battlefield, his body smashing through dunes, silver dust scattering like shattered glass.

But he rose again.

–––

Khonsu lifted his hand. The moon above glowed brighter, pulling the battlefield upward. Gravity shifted. The Olympians stumbled as the sand lifted, dunes breaking apart, rivers of molten light bending skyward. Zeus himself felt the pull, his storm dragged upward, arcs tearing loose into the void.

Khonsu struck again, his crook slashing in arcs of pale silver. The beams cut trenches across the battlefield, splitting dunes in half. One nearly cleaved Zeus’s shoulder, grazing him deep, blood spilling down his arm.

Zeus gritted his teeth. He planted his feet, lightning grounding into the shattered desert. His storm flared, arcs chaining down his legs into Gaia’s roots still buried deep. The earth answered him, grounding his storm tighter. He pulled himself free from the moon’s pull with a roar, and hurled himself forward.

His fists hammered Khonsu’s chest, thunder detonating in bursts. The crook caught the third strike, sparks scattering, but the fourth blow drove straight through his guard. Lightning carved across Khonsu’s ribs, burning his flesh silver.

The moon god hissed, but his eyes did not waver. He thrust his crook forward, its crescent biting deep into Zeus’s side. Sparks burst, thunder cracked, but blood poured heavier now.

Both staggered back, panting, their bodies cracked and glowing.

–––

The battle grew bloodier.

Khonsu lifted his arms, the moon shattering into fragments above him. Each shard fell as a blade, silver scythes raining down. Zeus’s storm burst upward, lightning spearing into the shards, shattering them into dust. But some struck. Blades cut across his arms, his chest, his legs, slicing sparks from his skin.

Zeus roared through the pain. His storm pulsed brighter, arcs surging wider. He raised both fists high, thunder gathering into a single spear. He hurled it forward, lightning tearing the battlefield apart as it struck Khonsu square in the chest.

The explosion lit the desert white.

When the smoke cleared, Khonsu was on one knee, his crook cracked, his chest scorched black where the thunder had burned. His glow flickered faint, but his silver eyes still stared steady at Zeus.

He rose again.

–––

The Olympians watched in silence. Athena’s grip whitened on her spear. Ares’s grin had thinned, his eyes sharper. Nyx’s veil trembled faintly, her stars watching. Gaia pressed her hand deeper into the sand, her roots ready. But none moved.

This was Zeus’s fight.

–––

Khonsu stepped forward. His body was broken, his crook cracked, but his presence heavier than before. The moon above flared brighter, bleeding silver across the battlefield.

"You are strong," he said softly, his voice calm even through blood. "But strength burns. Storms pass. The moon remains."

Zeus’s eyes flared, sparks crawling down his face. His storm answered, arcs tearing open the horizon. "We’ll see."

They clashed again.

Zeus’s fists hammered like cannons, thunder exploding with every strike. Khonsu’s crook cut in crescent arcs, silver slicing through storm. Each blow tore sand into glass, each strike shattered dunes into rivers. Blood sprayed, sparks burned, glass shattered.

Zeus drove his fist into Khonsu’s face, lightning burning his jaw. Khonsu’s crook slammed into Zeus’s chest, cracking ribs. Both staggered, then surged forward again, their blows shaking the desert into ruin.

–––

The final clash came.

Khonsu raised his crook high, the moon itself bending lower, its silver glow crushing the desert. Zeus raised both fists, lightning boiling around him, thunder louder than worlds.

They struck at once.

Moonlight and storm collided.

The blast swallowed the battlefield in white.

–––

When the light cleared, Zeus stood, his chest heaving, blood dripping, sparks crawling faint but steady. His fists were cracked, his body battered, but his storm still burned.

Khonsu lay in the sand, his crook shattered, his body broken. His silver glow flickered once, twice, then dimmed.

But his lips still curved faint, calm even in defeat. "Strong... too strong... but storms always fade."

His eyes closed. The moon above dimmed, fading into the black sky.

The desert still hissed with heat. Glass cracked under every step, and the smell of burnt stone clung to the air. Zeus stood over Khonsu’s broken body, chest rising heavy, sparks crawling faint along his arms. His storm still burned, but it wavered—like a flame clinging to its last breath. Blood streaked his ribs, his fists trembled.

Sand shifted behind him. A pale fire flickered low and steady, brushing across the ruined dunes. Hades stepped out of the smoke. His cloak dragged shadows with it, heavy but calm, his bident glowing with a sickly light that pulsed from its tips. His eyes—cold, unreadable—rested on his brother.

"You’ve done enough," Hades said, his voice quieter than thunder, but sharper. He stopped at Zeus’s side, his gaze steady on him. "Rest. You’ve carried this storm farther than any should. Let us take it from here."

Zeus turned, sparks flickering faint at his jaw. "And if I don’t?" His voice cracked, not from defiance, but exhaustion.

Hades lifted his hand, fingers brushing across the shaft of his bident. For a moment, the air warped. The dunes quivered, shadows crawling like veins beneath the glass. "Then you’ll fall before the next strike," Hades answered. "And you know it."

Silence stretched. The Olympians behind them said nothing, their eyes watching, their bodies battered but still holding. Nyx’s stars shimmered dim, Gaia’s roots twitched faint through the cracked sand. All waited.

Hades shifted closer, his pale fire spilling wider. "I’ve... changed," he said at last. The words came heavy, slow, as though even he was still measuring them. "The abyss that chained Tartarus no longer resists me. It breathes in me now. I am not what I was when this began." His eyes glowed faint red, shadows deepening at his feet. "This weight... I can carry it. For once, let me be the one to step forward while you stand still."

Zeus’s shoulders rose, sparks crawling brighter. He exhaled, thunder whispering in his breath. His fists loosened, the arcs fading slower than before.

"You think you can hold it?" Zeus asked. His tone was not mocking, not even doubtful—just tired, the weight of too many battles pressing into each word.

"I know I can," Hades said simply. His voice did not rise, did not waver. "The void listens to me now. And the next war will not be won by storm or sea. It will be won in the silence below."

The desert wind whistled faint, carrying smoke and ash.

Zeus studied him a long moment. Sparks crawled up his neck, then dimmed again. Finally, he gave a slow nod. "Then it’s yours," he said. His tone was flat, but there was something softer at its edge. "Don’t waste it."

Hades turned his eyes back toward the broken horizon, where the heat shimmered and something darker stirred beyond. His cloak billowed faint, shadows spilling thicker as if the underworld itself was answering his call.

"Rest, brother," he said without looking back.

Zeus lowered his fists, his storm finally quiet. The sparks faded into the smoke, leaving only the faint hum of thunder behind.

And for the first time since the war began, he let his body ease, his shoulders sink, and the weight slip from him.

The desert groaned, waiting for the next storm.