The camp had never been quiet like this.
Not the silence of exhaustion. Not the hush of fear. Something else. Something heavier. The gods moved slowly, speaking in low voices, avoiding each other's eyes. The angels kept to themselves, wings folded, heads bowed. Even the healers had stopped their endless rushing. There was nothing left to heal. Only losses to count.
Athena had insisted on the ceremony.
Not everyone agreed. Ares called it a waste of time. "They're souls," he said. "Mortals. They die. That's what they do." Athena didn't argue with him. She just looked at him until he looked away.
Odin supported her. That surprised some. The All-Father had never been sentimental. But he had seen enough death to know the difference between a body and a life. "They were no one to us before," he said quietly. "They were everyone to themselves."
