The silence around Hera's chamber was thick.
No priest. No oracle. No herald dared approach. Even the maids who helped her had slipped away the moment she gave the order. The gold doors stayed sealed, heavy with the weight of her wrath and exhaustion.
And yet… the air shifted.
A breeze moved through the chamber, even though the windows were closed. The golden curtains fluttered, and the candle flames bent all at once.
Then the doors creaked.
Slow.
Heavy.
She snapped her eyes up from the bundle in her arms, her voice sharp. "Who dares—"
And then she saw him.
Zeus.
He stood just inside the threshold, his white robe half-open, hair a mess like he hadn't slept in days, shoulders broader than the doorframe. No guards. No servants. Just him.
Her eyes narrowed. "How?"
Zeus stepped forward without a word, his boots silent against the marble floor. The storm in his aura was gone—calm now, like the sky before it weeps. He looked at the boy in her arms, not at her.
