Frankie hadn't realised how loud silence could be until the arena emptied.
Not the kind of silence that came after prayer. Not the kind that came after bedtime.
This was the kind that followed a near-miss.
People still moved. Vendors still shouted. Temple bells still rang on schedule. But the city had a new rhythm underneath it, like every footstep was half a question.
Will they come back?
Frankie walked home with Luca and Marco through the lower district, keeping her pace ordinary, her posture tired, her eyes down. She carried a small sack of bread and dried meat like any other auxiliary girl who'd survived a long day and wanted a full stomach more than glory.
Marco trailed half a step behind her, cane tapping softly against stone. It was a performance now. Not for Frankie—she knew what he was—but for everyone else. The cane made him look fragile. It made people look away.
The lower district always smelled like survival: hot oil, sweat, cheap incense, and metal polish from stalls selling "blessed" trinkets that weren't blessed at all.
Sofia met them halfway down the street, as if she'd been waiting with her whole body.
"You're back!" she said, and then her eyes snapped to Luca. "Did you see the angels?"
Luca blinked. "Hello to you too."
Sofia ignored that. "Were they really… like in the stories? Did they have wings like swords? Did their eyes glow? Did they—"
"Sofia," Frankie warned gently.
Sofia looked up at her, lips pressed into a stubborn line. "Everyone's talking about it."
"That's why you shouldn't," Frankie said.
Sofia's shoulders drooped, then she leaned closer, voice dropping to a whisper like it made it safer. "But they were there. Over the city."
Frankie didn't answer immediately. She glanced up at the skyline where the temples sat high and bright, their banners hanging like confidence.
"They were there," Frankie said finally. "And they left."
Sofia frowned. "Why would they leave?"
Frankie kept walking. "Because they wanted to."
That was the truth. And it was the worst kind.
At the apartment building, the usual corner was already occupied.
Rafe sat on the front step with his boots up on the railing like he owned the place, flipping a coin between his fingers. Tomas leaned against the wall chewing something, and Yara sat on the ground cleaning dirt from beneath her nails with the tip of her blade like the world couldn't surprise her anymore.
When Rafe saw them, he grinned wide.
"There he is," he said, pointing at Luca like he was introducing a champion. "Arena hero."
Luca groaned quietly. "Don't start."
"I'm not starting," Rafe said. "I'm continuing. Whole city's buzzing. Nobles talking. Priests lying. Kids pretending to be angels with bedsheets."
Sofia perked up immediately. "That's what I said!"
Frankie shot her a look. Sofia pretended she hadn't noticed.
Rafe stood, clapping Luca on the shoulder a little too hard. "You did good. Better than good. You made the gifted look nervous."
"That wasn't the goal," Luca said.
"It should be," Rafe replied. "Nervous gifted make mistakes. Mistakes make opportunities."
Frankie didn't like the way he said opportunities. It sounded too close to profit.
They went up the stairs, all of them, like it was the most natural thing in the world for a thief crew to cram into Frankie's tiny room and pretend they were just neighbours sharing bread.
Sofia shut the door behind them and immediately started again.
"Tell me everything."
"There isn't everything," Luca said. "There was a fight. Then the sky happened."
"The sky happened," Sofia repeated, eyes wide. "Like the sky just—"
"Stopped," Marco said quietly, and Sofia turned to him like he'd offered candy.
"Did you see them close up?"
Marco's gaze flicked to Frankie first, as if checking whether it was safe to answer.
"I saw enough," he said.
Sofia didn't notice that exchange. "Were you scared?"
Tomas laughed once. "Everyone was scared."
Sofia's eyes narrowed. "Were you scared, Frankie?"
Frankie's mouth twitched. "I was thinking."
"That means yes," Sofia declared.
Before Frankie could reply, a knock hit the door.
Not the casual knock of a neighbour.
Three sharp raps. No pause.
The room changed instantly.
Rafe moved first, vanishing behind the curtain like he'd turned to smoke. Tomas slid under the bed with a speed that would've impressed Hermes. Yara stepped into the shadow by the wall, body angled like she could become a knife if the door opened wrong. Marco shifted behind Frankie, cane still in hand, posture suddenly smaller.
Sofia froze, eyes huge.
Frankie lifted a finger to her lips.
Another knock. Harder.
"Open," a voice called.
Not a request. A command.
Frankie crossed the room and opened the door just enough to look through.
Two temple guards stood in the hall in bronze-stamped armour. Not high-ranked. Not important enough for polish to be perfect. But still dangerous in a poor building where power travelled downward like rot.
The first guard scanned the room with bored contempt. The second held a small scroll tube sealed with wax.
"We're looking for Luca," the first guard said.
Frankie didn't blink. "Luca who?"
The guard's eyes narrowed.
Then Luca stepped forward, calm as a stone.
"I'm Luca," he said.
The guard looked him over. "You."
Luca nodded once.
"Come with us," the guard said.
Luca's jaw tightened slightly. "Why?"
The second guard finally spoke. "By request. Lord Ares."
Every hidden body in the room went still in a different way. Not fear. Shock.
Sofia's mouth opened, then closed. Then she whispered, "The real Ares?"
Frankie kept her face blank, but her mind ran fast.
This wasn't a trap. Not a temple trap, anyway. Temple guards didn't say a god's name lightly. And if they were lying, they'd die for it.
Luca exhaled slowly, then nodded. "Alright."
Frankie stepped closer, voice low. "Don't be stupid."
Luca glanced at her. "You think I'm capable of being anything else?"
She almost smiled. Almost.
Marco shifted forward. "I'll—"
One guard cut him off with a look. "Only Luca."
Luca lifted a hand slightly toward Marco. Stay. Then toward Frankie. Don't follow.
Frankie didn't argue. Not here.
Luca left with the guards.
The moment the footsteps faded, the room exhaled.
Rafe appeared from behind the curtain like he'd been summoned. "Lord Ares," he whispered, delighted. "Look at you, Luca. Moving up."
Tomas climbed out from under the bed, dust on his cheek. "Why would Ares want him?"
Yara shrugged. "Entertainment."
Marco didn't speak. He stared at the door like he wanted to punch it open.
Sofia walked to Frankie and grabbed her sleeve. "Is Luca going to die?"
"No," Frankie said instantly.
Sofia's eyes searched her face. "How do you know?"
Frankie met her gaze. "Because I won't allow it."
That wasn't something she should've said. It was too sharp. Too certain.
But Sofia relaxed anyway, like Frankie's certainty was a blanket.
Luca returned an hour later.
Not carried. Not limping. Not bleeding.
He walked in with his shoulders straighter than before, and something in his eyes looked clearer. Like a knot had been pulled tight and tied properly.
He held something wrapped in cloth.
Everyone in the room stood at once.
Sofia jumped onto the bed for a better look.
Rafe's grin was so wide it bordered on worship. "Well?"
Luca didn't play it out. He set the wrapped bundle carefully on the table, then sat down like his legs had remembered they were human again.
"Ares wanted to see if I was real," Luca said.
Tomas blinked. "Real?"
"As in," Luca continued, "whether I was just lucky… or whether I actually knew what I was doing."
Rafe leaned forward. "And?"
Luca's mouth twitched. "He made me spar."
Sofia gasped. "You fought Ares?!"
"Not fought," Luca said quickly. "Sparred. And barely. He—" Luca paused, searching for the right word. "He wasn't trying."
Rafe laughed like a man hearing about a storm from someone who survived it. "Of course he wasn't trying."
Luca looked down at the cloth bundle. "But he watched. He tested. He kept pushing me into mistakes to see if I'd make them."
Frankie said nothing, but she listened hard. Gods didn't do things without a reason.
Luca unwrapped the cloth.
The spear underneath was beautiful in a way that felt dangerous. The shaft was dark metal, not wood, with faint red lines running through it like cooled lava. The head was leaf-shaped, cruelly sharp, and the base of the blade carried a small engraved mark that made the air feel heavier when you looked at it too long.
Sofia breathed, "It's… real."
"It's his," Luca said quietly. "Forged for him. He said it's a gift. A reward."
Tomas stared. "Why would he give you that?"
Luca looked up, meeting Frankie's eyes first, then the room.
"He said I impressed him. Not just with strength. With heart. And—" Luca gave a small, almost reluctant smile. "With my brain."
Rafe whistled. "Ares complimenting your brain. That might be the rarest thing I've heard."
Luca ignored him and continued.
"He gave me a blessing too."
The room went still again, but this time it wasn't fear.
It was hunger.
Blessings changed lives.
Sofia leaned forward. "What does it do?"
Luca rolled his shoulder slowly. "It's… mastery. Not just battle rage. He said he hates wasted motion."
Frankie's eyes narrowed slightly.
That sounded like Ares, actually. War wasn't anger. War was efficiency.
Luca flexed his fingers, then picked up the spear.
The weapon moved like it belonged to him. Not heavy. Not awkward. Natural.
"You want proof?" Luca asked.
Tomas raised both hands. "I don't want to be the proof."
"Too late," Luca said.
Tomas swore, grabbed his practice weapon, and stepped back as everyone cleared space automatically.
Sofia clapped once. "Do it again!"
Frankie stayed near the wall, arms folded, watching.
Luca and Tomas circled.
Tomas came in fast, trying to overwhelm before Luca could settle.
Luca didn't retreat.
He shifted half a step, spear haft turning, and tapped Tomas's wrist—light, precise.
Tomas's weapon flew out of his hand like it had been yanked.
He blinked. "That's—"
Luca swung the spear in a smooth arc and struck Tomas in the chest with the flat of the shaft.
Not hard.
Not cruel.
But the moment it connected, Tomas went sliding backward like the floor had turned to ice.
He hit the wall with a grunt and stared at Luca like Luca had just rewritten the laws of physics.
Rafe burst out laughing. "Oh that's beautiful."
Tomas rubbed his chest. "That wasn't fair!"
Luca lowered the spear slightly. "Neither are angels."
Marco stepped forward.
"My turn," he said.
Frankie's eyes flicked to him. A warning without words.
Marco understood. He adjusted his stance to look normal. Human.
Luca faced him, expression tightening with care.
They moved.
Marco was still learning his new body. He didn't rush. He didn't show speed. But even restrained, his balance was too perfect.
Luca struck once—testing.
Marco caught the spear shaft with one hand.
The room went silent.
Sofia whispered, "Uncle Marco…"
Marco released it immediately, like he realised what he'd shown.
He stepped back, raised his cane a fraction like it was an apology.
Frankie spoke calmly. "Again. But slower."
They did.
This time Marco let the spear slide off his palm instead of stopping it. He took a small step back at the right time. Human timing. Human mistakes.
It looked believable.
And that mattered.
Sofia leaned forward, eyes bright. "Uncle Marco you're really strong now."
Marco smiled faintly. "Only when I need to be."
Frankie caught Luca watching Marco with a crease between his brows.
Jealousy wasn't the right word.
Suspicion wasn't either.
It was awareness.
That was dangerous too, just in a different direction.
A knock came again—this time softer.
Rafe's voice, as if remembering he wasn't the host in this room. "So… when are we going out again?"
Frankie answered before anyone else could.
"We aren't."
Rafe's smile slipped. "We can't stop just because the sky got dramatic."
"The sky wasn't dramatic," Frankie said. "It was a message."
Luca nodded. "We lay low."
Yara spoke from the corner. "For once, I agree."
Rafe's eyes sharpened. "Coin doesn't wait."
Frankie met his gaze. "Neither do angels."
That hung there.
Rafe stood slowly, rolling his shoulders like the conversation had annoyed him more than it scared him.
"Fine," he said. "You lot hide under your beds. I'll find others."
Tomas muttered, "That went well last time."
Rafe ignored him and headed for the door, pausing only long enough to grin at Luca again.
"Nice spear," he said. "Try not to get killed before you can use it properly."
Then he left.
The room felt smaller after the door shut.
Sofia yawned, the adrenaline finally fading. "So… Luca has a god spear now."
Luca snorted softly. "Apparently."
Frankie watched the spear on the table, then the street beyond the window.
Calm before the storm.
Ares didn't give gifts for comfort.
He gave them because he expected war.
And somewhere beyond the walls, something had watched the city like prey.
Frankie sat down slowly beside Sofia and pulled her close.
Sofia whispered, "Are you scared?"
Frankie looked at her sister's face—soft, stubborn, alive.
"No," Frankie said. "I'm ready."
Outside, temple bells rang again—too early, too sharp.
Not celebration.
Warning.