The laughter slowly faded.
Their arms loosened. One by one, they stepped back, giving him space. Bastet flicked his coat lightly and muttered something about it needing a wash. Aphrodite gave his hand a last squeeze. Leto brushed a stray strand of silver hair behind his ear before turning toward the fountain again. Hestia was already helping the servants bring food, acting like it was just another night in Devil's Peak.
It wasn't.
The halls felt warmer. Quieter in a different way.
Lucifer stayed standing, hands now shoved in his coat pockets, gaze following the fluttering of Bastet's robe as she walked off. There was this strange ache in his chest—not pain, not regret. Just something that hummed softly. Something old.
He sighed and tilted his head back, letting the ceiling's starlight touch his face.
And that's when he noticed him.
Nezha.
Still by the wall. Still quiet. Still watching.
Lucifer's eyes softened.
