Aphrodite didn't wait.
The book still clutched to her chest, she left the library behind like it were burning, sandals skimming across the marble as she moved with purpose through Olympus. The grand halls of the divine realm, usually a comfort, now felt eerie — almost foreign. Columns she'd known for millennia, fountains she'd bathed in after battles or festivals, all of it felt like part of a memory that was only mostly true.
If someone had rewritten the past… what else might they have touched?
Her destination was a narrow temple on the far edge of Olympus, set apart from the majesty and celebration of the main courts. It was woven with threads of gold and starlight, hidden to most, and only visited when a god needed to ask the impossible.
It was the Temple of the Moirai — the Fates.
