☕️ Alice’s Mad Tea Party Presents: Storytime
🫖 Alice Spills the Tea on: The Clash of Titans
Gather ‘round, my lovelies, for today’s tale is about a battle that would make even the heavens themselves tremble. A battle so ancient, so powerful, that the very fabric of the universe was nearly torn asunder. And no, darling, I’m not talking about some trivial spat between rival deities. Oh no, no. I’m talking about the ultimate showdown—the kind that involves gods, ancient beings, and powers so wild and untamed, they could crush entire realms with a single flick of the wrist.
It all started long before even the oldest of gods could remember. The world—our world, mind you—was ruled by beings so old, they were older than time itself. We call them the Primordials. They were the first. The ones who shaped the stars, stirred the oceans, and whispered life into existence. They were the architects of the universe, the true creators, and their power… well, it was unfathomable.
But here’s the thing about power, darling: it makes everyone hungry. And while the Primordials were mighty, their rule wasn’t meant to last forever. The gods—young, ambitious, and full of fire—decided that it was their time to rise. And so, they did what any self-respecting deities would do: they challenged the very beings that birthed the cosmos itself.
Enter the gods.
Now, these weren’t your typical, oh-so-dramatic gods who live in glittering palaces and send plagues for fun. No, these gods were the embodiment of everything that’s wild in the universe—chaos, creation, and destruction. Their names were whispered in fear, their power legendary. They were creatures of fire and lightning, of storm and silence, and they didn’t take kindly to being told no.
And so, they waged war—against the very beings who had given them life.
The battle was unlike anything seen before. The sky burned with crackling energy, the earth itself trembled beneath their feet. Great cosmic forces collided in a clash so loud, it echoed through the corners of time. Fire met ice, light collided with darkness, and the oceans rose to swallow entire mountains. The gods unleashed their most devastating powers—wild storms that could erase cities in seconds, fires that turned entire realms into ash.
But the Primordials, ancient and wise as they were, had their own tricks up their sleeves. They knew the gods would come for them. They had seen it in the stars, in the whispers of the wind, in the cracks of the earth. They weren’t just going to roll over and die. Oh no, darling. They fought back.
The battle raged on for eons—no one could gain the upper hand. Each side struck vicious blows, only to be met with counterattacks so fierce, they would have shattered lesser beings. The gods turned entire forests into deserts with a snap of their fingers, while the Primordials reshaped the heavens themselves, twisting reality to their will.
But here’s the twist, darling: the true power of the Primordials wasn’t just in their raw strength—it was in their longevity. They were timeless. And in time, even the most powerful gods would grow weary. They could fight, they could burn, they could rage… but they would tire. And the Primordials, they knew that. They were patient, like the ebb and flow of the tides, always moving, never stopping, waiting for the right moment to strike.
And finally, after what seemed like forever, the moment came. The gods, for all their power, could not outlast the eternity of the Primordials. The gods began to falter. One by one, they were dragged back into the abyss of time from whence they came. Their bodies shattered, their essence scattered across the cosmos, leaving only whispers in the wind.
But the Primordials didn’t win in the traditional sense. Oh no, darling. The universe itself shifted. The battle did more than just change the balance of power—it redefined it. The gods were scattered, broken, forgotten. Some were cast into the void, others sealed away in deep, hidden places, while a few chose to join the Primordials as their reluctant allies, bound by an unspoken agreement.
And thus, the world was reborn. The Primordials reigned once more, their power tempered by the fierce struggle they had faced. But the gods? Oh, they’re still out there. Biding their time. Waiting for the right moment to return and try again.
Because, darling, power never really dies. It just waits for the right moment to strike again.
Winkingly yours,
—Alice, Queen of Ink & Lore
