The courtyard still rang with the sound of metal, the clash of siblings testing one another. Hermes and Apollo leaned against a column, tossing pebbles back and forth, grinning at every near miss that forced Athena and Ares to adjust. The mood had shifted into something lighter, playful almost.
Then it hit.
A weight rolled across Olympus, thick and vast, like a tide of black velvet poured from the sky. It wasn't wind, it wasn't thunder—it was older, heavier, a presence that didn't belong to marble halls or clear skies.
The training grounds froze. Ares straightened mid-swing, blade lowering instinctively. Athena's spear steadied, her eyes narrowing as a strange chill wrapped around her. Hermes dropped the pebble in his hand. Even Apollo's smirk slipped, his golden aura bristling in answer.
