He struck the ground with his cane. The sound was a thunderclap that reset the atmosphere in the room, stripping away the humidity and the smell of sex, leaving only cold, hard clarity.
"Hera isn't just breaking the mountain," Hades said, his voice dropping the veneer of boredom. "She is cracking the foundation of reality. Her desperation to save Olympus from the Devourer is going to collapse the floor of the mortal realm into my living room. I do not appreciate construction debris in Elysium."
He looked at Kaelen. "You intend to go to the High Seat. To confront her."
"We intend to burn it down," Kaelen corrected.
"A bit dramatic, but I support the sentiment." Hades waved a hand, and a ripple of black smoke materialized in the air between us. "But you cannot walk into the Court of the Heavens looking like... that." He gestured vaguely at our naked, blood-smeared, dust-caked states. "It’s undignified. And frankly, unhygienic."
"We are preparing for war, not a gala," Flynn spat.
"In Olympus, appearanceiswar," Hades countered. "Perception is power. If you walk in looking like refugees, you will be treated like vermin. If you walk in looking like gods..."He smiled, revealing teeth that were too white, too sharp. "...you might just survive long enough to speak."
He snapped his fingers.
The sensation was like being dunked in cold water.
The grime, the blood, the sweat, all vanished instantly.
In its place, weight settled on my shoulders.
I looked down. The rags I had been about to put on were gone. I was encased in armor, but it wasn't the heavy, blackened steel of the Sentinel. It was sleek, fitted to my form like a second skin, made of a material that shifted between matte black and deep, bruising amethyst. Gold filigree traced the lines of my muscles, mirroring the magical veins beneath. A cape of pure shadow hung from my shoulders, and boots of soft, silent leather encased my feet.
I looked at the others.
Kaelen was terrifying. He wore armor of burnished gold and black scales, a mantle of red draped over one shoulder. A crown of jagged obsidian sat just above his brow. He looked every inch the Dragon King he had been born to be.
Flynn was clad in leathers and furs that looked wild but expensive, fitted with silver bracers and a belt bristling with daggers, none of which had been there a moment ago. Thane now wore plate armor that looked as heavy as a mountain, etched with runes of stability, glowing with a faint light. Elias was draped in robes of shifting silk, turquoise, grey, and flame-orange, that seemed to move on their own wind, armored vambraces visible beneath the sleeves.
"Better," Hades decided, looking us over with a critical eye. "Now you look like a pantheon, not a street brawl-turned-orgy."
"Why help us?" I asked, flexing my fingers in the leather gloves. The power of the outfit was tangible; it was woven with protection spells I could taste on my tongue. "You aren't known for your charity."
"I told you," Hades said, turning toward the center of the room. "I want quiet. And I want Hera to stop drilling holes in my ceiling. If you kill her, or the Devourer, or both... I get my peace back."
He lifted his cane and pointed it at me. "The Obsidian Amplifier in the Cradle was capable," Hades said. "But you? You are the finished product. You have the juice now, little key. You don't need rocks."
He looked at me, his eyes gleaming.
"Open it." The command resonated in my blood.
"Open what?"
"The door to Olympus, of course."
I stepped forward, surrounded by my princes. I could feel them, really feel them, not just as emotions in my head, but as resources I could draw upon. Kaelen’s destructive output, Flynn’s kinetic speed, Thane’s structural integrity, Elias’s navigational foresight.
"How?" I whispered, though I already felt the answer rising in my throat.
"Don't knock," Hades advised, fading back into the shadows. "Kick it in."
I closed my eyes.
I didn't reach for the gate in the Sanctorum. That was a localized rift. I reached for the concept ofOlympus.
I visualized it. Not the Golden City of myth, but the place I somehow knew I had seen before, the crumbling edge, the lavender sky, the smell of ambrosia and rot.
I reached into the bond.
