When I entered the hall, everyone fell silent.
Someone had been whispering, but they stopped the moment I stepped inside. Although there was no door, I felt the shift as soon as I crossed the threshold. A suffocating, still pressure had settled under the dome. No one knew who would speak first, but I saw whose eyes turned first.
Seals were etched into the stone floor—symbols of the gods and inscriptions from ancient pantheons. I paid no attention to any of them. I already knew what mattered: None of them were mine. My name wasn't carved into these stones. But one of the stones responded as if exhaling. Ayzit's eagle darkened. No one noticed.
I walked toward the center of the council, into the heart of that hollow circle. I was far from them all yet within view of each of them. I stood without speaking, facing those bastard gods. Each one was nestled in the safety of their sacred sigils.
When I lowered the Vel Sceptrum, the scythe's hilt touched the stone, but there was no sound. Yet some faces flinched. Its shadow had already reached ahead of me. It was always the first to arrive.
Ares's representative couldn't hold back. He exploded, as always.
"How fucking dare a mortal defy us!"
His voice slammed into the edge of the throne. The sigils on his shoulders sparked with fury.
I didn't look at him.
"This isn't defiance," I said. "It's habit."
"You don't belong here!" he roared. "You're nothing. Not a god and not a proxy. Your name doesn't even deserve these stones!"
Chang'e's Shadow remained silent. He simply lowered the parchment he had been holding. There was no wind, yet the paper floated across the stone and landed at my feet. I didn't bend down. I read it from where I stood.
The shadow, had passed through the moon.
I didn't pick up the scroll. I left it right there.
"No," I said. "I'm only echoing what you've been too afraid to say."
Ares was still standing, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword.
"You're testing my limits," he warned. "Take one more step, and I'll paint this floor with your blood."
I turned to him—for the first time.
"What you call blood is nothing but the silence of others. It is not mine."
Then came the silence. Not the passive kind. The thick kind.
Someone forgot to breathe. Someone's nails sank into the wood of their throne.
No one could act. Because now—I was here.
"Is that a threat?" Odin's proxy asked.
"No," I said. "It's a reminder."
Vel Sceptrum was still in place. The shadows on the ground began to stir.
Some seals darkened, some inscriptions began to vanish.
No one saw it, but the stone remembered.
You should've seen me coming.
You needed to see me and you did.