Odin remained still, his deep eyes fixed on Zeus, evaluating his every movement, every breath. The tension between the two gods was palpable, as if the very air between them was about to explode. Sleipnir, the majestic eight-legged horse, snorted restlessly, sensing the danger in the atmosphere. The crowd that had once cheered at the Yule festival now stood in expectant silence, their eyes fixed on the center of the plaza.
Odin, with his majestic bearing, leaned toward Zeus, his raven wings slowly extending behind him.
"Zeus, son of Cronus," he said in a deep, grave voice. "I ask you one last time. Do you really want to start a war over something as insignificant as the death of three goddesses, who weren't even your closest allies? There are other ways to resolve this, and you know it."
Zeus looked at him with his bright golden eyes, an arrogant smile curling his lips. Despite Odin's words, he showed no hesitation.
