The sky above Olympus split like parchment under strain.
A sonic ripple shattered clouds and left the stars exposed behind the veil of divine atmosphere. Where once archers and spellcasters filled the air with holy fire and celestial wards, now there was only one blur of gold and pink, clashing with another streak of silver and deep crimson.
Eros soared.
Wings like stained glass refracted the sunlight into thousands of dancing prisms, each beat of them pushing him beyond sound, beyond thought. His bow was gone now—replaced with pure will, a forge of kinetic violence in human form. The aura of love was gone too, replaced by an aura of speed and courage.
Hermes met him midair.
Boots of wind and starlight skated across currents only he could see. His caduceus twisted in his hands—a weapon, a shield, a counterweight—and then it wasn't in his hands at all, but striking out from behind Eros, a whip of divine metal that bent time as it moved.
They moved too fast for vision.
