Aphrodite wandered the silent marble corridors of Olympus, her thoughts a whirlpool of confusion. The place where the Loom of Fate was supposed to be… was gone. Not just hidden. Gone. As if it had never existed at all. The archway that once led to the secret chamber had become a smooth wall of white stone, unmarked and untouched. Even her divine senses couldn't detect the faintest residue of magic.
She clenched her jaw, her sandals echoing across the floor with each determined step. "Someone's done more than just erase memories," she muttered. "They've rewritten the fabric of Olympus."
But she couldn't solve this alone.
If there were inconsistencies in the timeline—if things like the Trojan War hadn't yet happened, if some stories seemed missing—then she needed the help of gods who, like her, had an eye for detail and movement.
Her first stop: Hermes.
The god of messages, travel, and secrets.
