The silence after Gaia's words stretched. The night was heavy, the ruins of Olympus still bleeding smoke, and Zeus's storm dimmed just enough for her voice to slide through.
"I may have someone who can help you," Gaia said at last.
Zeus's eyes shifted to her. "Who?"
Gaia did not answer. She only turned, her hand brushing the broken railing. Roots crawled up from the molten cracks, wrapping around her feet, glowing with a faint green light. The air thickened, humming with the weight of the earth itself.
"Come with me," she said simply.
The ground moved. Not like an earthquake. More like the world itself folded in, pulled around them. The sky vanished. The balcony, the ruin, even the gods still whispering below—all gone in an instant.
Zeus didn't flinch, though his hand still sparked faintly. When the shift ended, they were standing somewhere else entirely.
