Zeus nodded. "You will go with Hermes. Not to strike—but to observe. Gather intelligence. Speak to Naerida. Speak to Dominic if he lives. And find the Sea Witch."
"Maelora?" Hades asked, materialising at the threshold, shadows curling behind him. "She walks again?"
"She knows more than she lets on," Hera muttered. "And she has never once sworn loyalty to Olympus."
Athena turned to Hermes, who was already adjusting his winged sandals. "You ready?"
Hermes smirked. "Always."
Zeus raised his sceptre, lightning lashing the heavens. "Then go."
---
Scene II – The Waters Below
In the scarred borders of the inner sea, where the waters turned murky with power and memory, Dominic floated unconscious—his wounds bandaged, his heartbeat echoing like a dying wave.
Naerida stood beside him, her face pale, her war robes still stained from the last clash with Lyrielle's Choir.
Behind her, her generals murmured, forming strategies that felt feeble in the face of the coming storm.
