It was the year one thousand four hundred and twenty three. The year of miracles and sacrifices. The age of magic, blood and power. Everyone who witnessed it, felt its rhythm reverberate through their very souls. Even the humans who were oblivious to such powers could feel something shift in the greater unknown. The skies waited in complete abandon and the goddess of the moon sat on her silver throne trying to work her magic. Scotland had never looked so fearful. Every leaf of every tree on every great mountain in the highlands of the glorious country waited silently. They waited for the birth of their prince. They waited for the arrival of the demon who would rule them all. They waited for Zeus.
All the magical creatures that came under the rule of demon king Damian knew he was expecting a child. All of them hoped and wished for a son as mighty as Damian himself. When the said night finally arrived, the werewolves howled praying to the goddess of the moon. The vampires stood vigilantly outside the palace protecting the demon queen and her soon to be born child. The witches danced and chanted murmuring words of comfort for the expecting mother and the king stood beside his wife whispering words of encouragement. It was an ordeal. Giving birth to the son of demon king Damian was not going to be easy. The prince was already known to be the most powerful demon to ever exist. The combination of his father’s seed and his mother’s egg had resulted in a heart so strong that everyone was scared of his arrival. Soon enough every prayer was answered as the shouting stopped and the howling died. The vampires on guard cheered loudly indicating the birth of the demon crown prince, Zeus.
As the king smiled at his son he felt his wife’s hand grow limp under his hold. Everyone’s worst fears had come true, the demon queen was dead. Some said the strength of Zeus would have not allowed his mother to survive while some said every demon queen has to die while giving birth to a son. Some called it tradition and some called it a matter of bad luck. Though whatever the reason Zeus was deprived of a mother and that made him bitter for life. He grew up to be mightier than his father, stronger than his ancestors, more powerful than anyone else alive. He grew up learning just one single thing, he was born to rule the world.