Chapter Ten

THEOS POV

Breakfast at the Academy was usually loud—silverware clattering, students arguing over training slots, the children of Ares bragging about bruises like trophies. Today wasn’t any different, yet it felt heavier.

The Convergence always did that.

I sat with Damon, picking at my food waiting for Layla and her friends to arrive while he inhaled his like he hadn’t eaten in days. He never got nervous; he got restless. I envied that.

Across the dining hall, Layla slipped out with Perse and Javi trailing behind her. Even from a distance she looked tired—shoulders tense, bag slung over her, eyes unfocused like she was somewhere else entirely.

Damon noticed too. Of course he did.

“She’s gonna break if Vale keeps pushing her,” he muttered.

I didn’t disagree.

They all made their way to the table and sat, scarfing down food as quickly as possible.

Perse and Javi were going to go spar and Layla said she wanted to head to class early.

We finished breakfast, then Damon and I headed toward the arena building for early drills. Students peeled off in every direction—minor Houses to warm-ups, major Houses to strategy briefings, instructors barking orders like generals before a war.

We had maybe two minutes of fresh air before Vale found Layla.

Vale slithered out of nowhere the same way his voice did.

“Good morning, Layla,” he said, blocking her path.

Damon and I weren’t close enough to intervene, but close enough to hear the tension. He told her not to attend class—claiming it was for her “well-being.”

It wasn’t a concern. Vale never cared about anyone’s well-being—just control. He had that look again: the “I know something you don’t” expression that made my skin itch.

Damon and I exchanged a look and then turned our attention back to them.

When Layla asked about coursework, he said we would deliver it to her. Like we belonged to him. Like she did.

He brushed past her, satisfied, like a snake shedding its skin, and kept walking.

I moved to catch up with her, leaving Damon behind, just as she turned, and we collided—my shoulder meeting her forehead.

“Sorry— I didn’t see you,” she muttered, already retreating.

“It’s ok, it was my fault,” I replied quickly, adjusting my backpack because my hands needed something to do.

She made me feel nervous. She always did that.

And she always did that too—apologized for existing.

I hated it. I didn’t know how to fix it.

Vale’s order still lingered between us, so I asked, “Are you coming in?”

“No. Professor Vale told me to go rest. No class for me today. But he would make sure that you and Damon had my work for me.”

I nodded, but inside there was a spark of anger. He didn’t want her learning. He wanted her hidden.

“Don’t let any of this discourage you. If anything, I think that watching will be good for you this year.”

It was the only encouragement I could give without inviting Vale’s attention. She just looked exhausted, like she hadn’t slept in days.

“It’s no worries. I’ll be there. Wouldn’t want to miss it,” she said, smiling as she meant it.

She didn’t.

“Just don’t forget my homework,” she added, stepping around me.

I watched her leave, feeling like there was something important stuck between my teeth—something unsaid.

Vale watched everything from the doorway. And for the first time, I wondered if Layla felt less like a student and more like prey.

———————————————————————————-

Two Weeks Later

Campus sounded like a festival—music, chatter, divine energy crackling in the air. The sky had darkened overnight, rolling into bruised purples and eclipsed grays.

The eclipse wasn’t until noon, but I could already feel Zeus’s attention stretching across the sky like a palm pressed over the sun.

Damon sparred with me in the private training room—shirtless, sweating, moving like a shadow in human form. He fought quietly; I fought loudly. Lightning wanted out of me today, impatient and biting.

“That's all you’ve got?” Damon taunted, blocking my strike and flipping me onto my back.

“Was letting you feel good about yourself,” I grunted, rolling up to my feet again.

He laughed, but there was tension under it. Even he felt the eclipse. Everyone did.

That’s when the door opened, and everything in the room shifted.

Layla stepped in wearing a hoodie and sweats, hair still messy from sleep, skin flushed as she’d just run here due to the knippy winds. Not dressed for a spectacle—just for comfort.

Damon grinned instantly.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty.”

She hugged him first—quick but real—then me. Layla wasn’t a hugger, but she always let us in that little bit. I wondered if she noticed I held on half a second longer than I should have.

Probably.

“We were just making sure we were ready. We’ll be up next before we know it,” I said, patting the knife strapped to my thigh.

She wished us luck and slapped our arms; Damon made a joke at the Olympians’ expense, and it felt—oddly—normal for a moment. Like we were just teenagers, not weapons.

Then Thalia stormed in, powersuit immaculate.

“You’re needed,” she told me, expression like a locked vault.

I wiped my face with a towel. “Okay, I’ll be there in a second—”

“No. Now. It is Father who calls.”

Her tone could have shattered marble.

I looked at Layla instinctively—because I always did—then at Damon. He gave a single curt nod.

I went.

As the door closed behind Thalia and me, I saw Damon and Layla lean over the railing to watch the arena. She looked so small against that wide emptiness, but the sky above seemed to bend toward her.

Zeus had arrived.

His presence swallowed the small room—white hair, crown like trapped sunlight, eyes like storms preparing to strike. He didn’t look at Thalia.

He looked at me, then past me—toward the arena.

When Layla’s eyes found us from across the stadium, Father’s gaze slid to her. The weight of it was physical—like a hand around her throat. She went pale, knuckles white on the railing.

Hades stood beside him—tall, still, carved from obsidian, as his eyes met those of Damon, who stiffened next to Layla; his father acknowledged him with the smallest nod. Then his eyes found Layla too.

Two kings of Olympus, assessing something they did not yet understand.

I didn’t know why that scared me, but it did.

A few seconds later, Damon looked at his watch and slipped away. Layla followed soon after, escorted by Thalia, who had stalked off to get her to the pressbox.

I watched her enter and take her seat beside Thalia, hood up, hands tucked into her sleeves, trying to be invisible in a den full of gods.

The horn sounded.

Everything inside me crackled.

It was time.