Twenty-eight days.
I was still staring at the glowing envelope when my phone rang at 7 AM.
Marcus Reed. Dante's best friend. CFO of Titan Industries.
I answered.
Marcus didn't waste time. "He told me everything."
I put the envelope down. "Of course he did."
Marcus kept going. "I need you to understand something very clearly, Ms. Sterling. I don't care what you are. I don't care about gods or trials or divine law. If Dante dies because of you—"
I cut him off. "He's already dying, Mr. Reed. That's not my fault."
Marcus went quiet. Then. "Can you save him or not?"
I stood up. "Yes. But it's complicated."
Marcus said flatly. "Uncomplicate it."
I almost laughed. Almost. "There are three trials. If Dante passes all three, we can transfer my power. He lives. I finally get to rest."
Marcus asked carefully. "What kind of trials?"
I walked to my window. Looked at the city. "The kind that will break him if he's not ready."
Marcus was silent for a moment. Then said something I didn't expect.
Marcus spoke firmly. "He's been broken before. He always gets back up. Nine o'clock. His office. Be there."
He hung up.
I stared at my phone.
Nobody hung up on me.
Nobody.
---
I walked into Titan Industries at exactly nine o'clock.
The receptionist shot to her feet the moment she saw me. Smart girl.
Receptionist said quickly. "Ms. Sterling. Top floor. Mr. Carver is—"
I was already at the elevator.
Forty floors. I spent the ride telling myself this was business. Rules. Trials. Twenty-eight days. Nothing personal.
The doors opened.
Dante stood at the window with his back to me. Dark grey suit. No tie. Hands in his pockets. His shoulders carried the weight of a man who hadn't slept but had spent the night making decisions anyway.
The cancer was worse today. I could feel it from across the room. A dark heaviness that clung to him like shadow.
He turned around.
Dante said simply. "You came."
I walked in. "You asked."
Dante's eyes moved across my face. Reading me the way he probably read financial reports. Looking for cracks. Weaknesses. Entry points.
Dante said carefully. "Did you sleep?"
I sat across from his desk. "I don't sleep."
Dante sat down. Leaned forward. Elbows on the desk. "We need to talk about the trials."
I crossed my legs. "Do we?"
Dante's jaw set. "Stop doing that."
I raised an eyebrow. "Doing what?"
Dante pointed at me. "That. The cold voice. The raised eyebrow. The whole I'm-a-goddess-and-you-bore-me act." He leaned further forward. "I saw your memories yesterday, Lyra. I know who you really are. Stop performing."
The words landed harder than they should have.
Nobody talked to me like that.
Nobody.
And yet I didn't freeze him to the chair or erase his memory or walk out.
I sat there.
Dante pressed on. "Tell me about the trials. All of it. No leaving parts out."
I held his gaze. "The first trial is Fear."
Dante nodded. "What kind of fear?"
I answered carefully. "Your worst one. The thing you can't look at directly. The thing that wakes you up at three in the morning."
Dante was quiet for a second. Then. "Dying alone."
I blinked. I expected something complicated. Something CEO-shaped. Losing the company. Losing control.
Not that.
I said quietly. "Then that's what you'll face."
Dante didn't flinch. "And the second trial?"
I continued. "Trust. Complete trust. The kind that has no backup plan."
Dante tilted his head. "Trust in who?"
I held his gaze. "Me."
Something shifted in his expression. Not fear. Not hesitation.
Something that made my chest feel strange.
Dante said slowly. "And the third?"
I looked at the desk between us. "Sacrifice."
Dante asked. "What kind of sacrifice?"
I met his eyes. "The kind that costs you something real."
Dante leaned back in his chair. Studied the ceiling for a moment. Then looked back at me.
Dante asked. "When do we start?"
I frowned. "You're not going to ask more questions?"
Dante shrugged. "Would the answers change anything?"
I paused. "No."
Dante spread his hands. "Then when do we start?"
I stared at him. This man had twenty-eight days to live and he was sitting across from me asking when we could start walking into trials designed by gods old enough to make me look young.
No fear. No hesitation.
Just. When do we start.
I said. "Tomorrow. The first trial begins tomorrow."
Dante nodded once. Then stood up. Walked around the desk toward me.
I stood instinctively. Old habit. Never let anyone stand above you.
Dante stopped in front of me. Too close again. He had a habit of doing that. Closing distance like it belonged to him.
Dante said quietly. "Can I ask you something?"
I kept my face still. "You're going to anyway."
Dante almost smiled. "In all hundred lifetimes. Did I ever pass the trials?"
The question hit somewhere soft.
I looked away. "No."
Dante asked. "Why not?"
I swallowed. "Because the trials aren't just physical. They require something most people don't have."
Dante pushed. "What?"
I turned back to face him. "The ability to feel everything and keep going anyway."
Dante held my gaze. "And you think I have that?"
I studied him. The red eyes from no sleep. The tight jaw. The hands that weren't shaking even though they probably wanted to. The man had terminal cancer and was standing in front of a goddess asking about divine trials like it was a board meeting.
I said honestly. "I think you might be the first version of yourself who does."
Something crossed his face. Warm and quiet and gone before I could name it.
Dante stepped back. "Good. Tomorrow then."
He walked back around his desk. Sat down. Pulled his laptop toward him like the conversation was over.
I stood there for a second. Caught off guard.
I asked. "That's it?"
Dante looked up. "Did you want more?"
I picked up my bag. "Most people need more convincing."
Dante looked back at his screen. "I'm not most people."
I walked to the elevator.
Dante called out. "Lyra."
I stopped. Didn't turn around.
Dante said. "Eat something today. You look like you haven't eaten in a century."
I turned around slowly. "I haven't."
Dante looked up from his laptop. His face was serious. "Then eat. Whatever you're facing tomorrow, face it with a full stomach."
I stared at him.
This dying man was telling me to eat.
Me. A ten-thousand-year-old goddess.
I turned back to the elevator.
I said quietly. "Goodbye, Dante."
Dante called after me. "See you tomorrow, Lyra."
The doors closed.
I stood in the elevator alone.
Twenty-eight days.
Three trials.
And the strangest feeling that tomorrow was going to change everything.
The elevator hit the ground floor.
I walked out into the city.
Found the nearest coffee shop.
Sat down.
Ordered food for the first time in a hundred years.
It tasted like the beginning of something.
I just didn't know what yet.