The world shifted.
One moment the Olympians and their allies stood in the wreck of Egypt, the smell of glassed sand and burnt gods still clinging to them. The next, shadow and star folded over them, and the air itself pulled sideways. Hades's cloak spread like an abyss, Nyx's veil stitched the gaps with threads of silver, and Gaia's roots burrowed through the void. Together they cut a path.
When they emerged, the light was different.
–––
The Hindu realm was not desert, not mountain, not sky. It was everything at once.
Lotus lakes spread as far as the eye could see, their petals glowing with colors no mortal tongue could name. Rivers of milk and fire ran side by side, neither drowning the other. Palaces of gold and crystal floated above, anchored by chains of sound—the hymns of countless mortals echoing upward, forming bridges of prayer.
