The hall was vast, a cathedral of arts dedicated to the nine daughters of Zeus. Massive statues of the Muses lined the walls, carved from alabaster so pure it seemed to glow. Dust sheets draped over antique instruments, harps the size of chariots, organs made of gold pipes, gave the room the appearance of a ghostly gallery. The ceiling was a dome of glass, but it was currently dark, covered by heavy shutters that blocked out the storm and the twin suns.
It was peaceful. It was eerie.
"Why would Hades give us a seed?" Aria asked, her voice cracking the silence. She pulled away from me slightly, opening her hand to look at the small, red kernel. It pulsed with a faint, rhythmic crimson light, like a tiny heartbeat.
"He called it protection," Elias said, drifting closer. "Hades does not deal in snacks. He deals in contracts."
"A pomegranate seed binds you to the Underworld," Thane rumbled, checking the structural integrity of a nearby column. "Persephone ate six and was bound for six months. It is an anchor."
"Or a weapon," I said, staring at the seed. "If you plant a seed of the Underworld in the soil of Olympus... what grows?"
"Considering the soil of Olympus is currently dissolving into nothingness?" Flynn muttered. "Nothing good."
"He implied we might get hungry," Aria said, frowning. "If we're going to break the world."
"He means consumption," I realized, the strategic implication slotting into place. "To eat the food of a realm is to belong to it. If we are trapped here... if the Devourer cuts off the exit... and we eat this..."
"We belong to him," Flynn finished, his face darkening. "We become citizens of the Underworld. We die, technically, but we fall into his domain instead of the Void."
"Protection," Aria whispered. "An escape hatch. If we fail... we can choose death on his terms."
A heavy silence settled over us. It was a dark gift. A suicide pill wrapped in fruit.
"Let's hope we don't fail," I said grimly.
"This place..." Elias trailed off, wandering toward a statue of Calliope holding a stylus and tablet. He reached out, brushing the dust from the stone plinth. "It feels... awake."
I frowned, my hand dropping instinctively to my sword hilt again. "Awake how? The Colossi were awake. Right now I could do without more awake stone."
"Not hostile," Elias corrected, his eyes unfocusing as he looked at the currents of magic in the room. "Just observing. The Muses were the memory of the gods. They recorded everything. Inspiration. History. Truth."
"Like the archives," Aria said, looking around. "Maybe there's something here. Something about the Devourer. Something they learned before the rot set in."
"We can look," I said. "But stay close. This building is on the edge of the district. If the ground destabilizes..."
"We know," Flynn said. "The floor is lava. Got it."
We spread out, treating the silent hall like a hazardous environment. I kept Aria within arm's reach, my senses dialed to maximum. The bond kept me updated on her physical state; her heart rate was slowing, but the fatigue was a heavy, grey wave trying to pull her under.
"Kaelen," she whispered.
I turned. She was standing in front of a massive, covered mirror at the back of the hall. The dust sheet had slipped, revealing a glass surface that was dark and swirling, like oil.
"What is it?"
"Look at the reflection," she said.
I looked.
The mirror didn't show the hall. It didn't show us standing in our armor, bloodied and battered.
It showed the throne room of the High Seat. But it wasn't the burning ruin we had left. It was pristine. And empty.
Except for one figure.
A woman stood by the throne, her back to us. She was wearing white, not the armor of Athena or the regal robes of Hera. Simple, white linen. Her hair was dark, falling in loose waves down her back.
"Is that..." Aria started.
