The silence stretched.
Zeus and Hades stood among the floating ruins of the broken realm—what was once Tartarus. The stars didn't shine here. Just flickers of ghost light from dead suns, drifting in and out of the void like forgotten memories.
Zeus dropped to one knee, panting. Sparks crackled along his chest, fading now, no longer furious. His lightning had quieted.
Hades sat nearby on a floating shard, resting his scythe across his lap. His shoulders rose and fell with each breath, blood trailing from a shallow cut on his brow.
Neither spoke for a while.
The wind didn't howl here.
There was no wind.
Only weightless silence.
Then—
Zeus chuckled, low.
Hades glanced over, his silver eyes unreadable. "…What?"
Zeus shook his head, sweat dripping down his jaw. "I honestly thought he'd outlast us."
"He almost did," Hades muttered.
Zeus looked up at the cracked sky above, streaks of pale energy bleeding through where the fabric of realms had been torn.
