Chapter 3 - Selene

“Thor, come on! I want to see JoJo’s new pups!” I shout to my mate.

How is it that he’s the god of war—the one who has to be ready to leap into battle at a moment’s notice—and I’m always the one waiting for him?

“Alright, alright. I’m here. Let’s go meet the new little crotch goblins. Do you know what their names are yet?” Thor asks, strolling into the living area.

I shoot him an annoyed look. “For one thing, no. That’s part of the reason I want to get there so badly. And for another thing, don’t call them crotch goblins! I’ve told you how much I hate that term, and one of them will be the next generation’s oracle. I won’t have her referred to by such a vulgar name. Plus, it’s just rude.”

He laughs his boisterous guffaw, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me in. “We’re supposed to be keeping up with the times to help our boys acclimate to the world around them. That means using the language they use.”

“And that’s one word they don’t need to learn—especially if you ever want a shot at making that daughter you keep talking about,” I shoot back.

His eyes widen in alarm, and he quickly nods. “Heard and understood.”

I pat his cheek. “Good boy. You ready to go?”

I know Thor responds—I see his mouth move and his eyes watching me—but suddenly, the world drops away. Sound and feeling vanish as part of my consciousness is pulled elsewhere.

This only happens for two people: Meredith and Josefina.

Their voices ring in my mind.

Meredith says, “Call all the gods.”

Almost like finishing her sentence, Josefina follows: “I had a vision. Lucifer is back.”

Immediately, I know everything—the vision, Josefina’s labor, and when they’ll return to Olympus to share it.

“It will be so,” I tell them.

Then, just as quickly, I’m back. Thor’s arms still around me, his voice calling my name, his face tight with anxiety.

I give a little shake, grounding myself in his embrace before answering. “I’m okay. I’m back.”

“What is it?” Thor asks. “Is something wrong?”

He’s been with me long enough to recognize what just happened. Meredith and Josefina wouldn’t reach out unless it was urgent—especially when we were already on our way, and JoJo had just given birth.

“Yeah,” I say, pulling away and grabbing a drachma and the watering can I keep nearby—just in case I ever need to send an Iris message, which I definitely do now, since Hermes is otherwise occupied. “Lucifer is back to full power. Josefina had a vision. And it is bad. Very, very bad.”

I move to the window, where sunlight streams into the room, and pour water from the can. A rainbow appears in the air.

I toss the drachma into it. “Iris, I need to talk to you,” I say, just before her face forms in the light.

“Selene. How can I help you, aunt?” Iris asks, surprised to see me.

“I’m going to owe you quite a few drachma, niece. We have many gods to call,” I say gravely.

About six hours later, we are all assembled on Olympus. Zeus has expanded the arena to accommodate every god who wanted to come.

And that is a lot of them.

Josefina sits beside me, pale and worn. Meredith tends to her, making sure she has water and snacks. Hermes, Jacob, and Alex surround us, each holding one of the new pups in their arms.

“I hate that we have to do it this way. You should be resting and letting your hormones level out. But the gods insist the one who saw the vision be the one to explain it,” I say.

We all know this, but I don’t think the gods fully grasp what carrying a Nephilim, a demi-god, and a werewolf—with godlike power—has done to Josefina. The only reason she survived the pregnancy at all is because she’s a goddess now herself.

Still, it’s too much, too soon.

Zeus, of course, doesn’t care. He wants what he wants—and there’s not much any of us can do about it.

“I can do this, Selene. Apollo has already consented to monitor my condition and help if necessary,” Josefina says firmly, though her face remains pale.

I glance at Hermes, Jacob, and Alex. I can feel their disapproval and resignation. They don’t like that Josefina’s here either, but we all know there's no stopping it.

Suddenly, the air tears open with a crack of lightning. Blinding light and the sharp scent of ozone flood the space, thunder booming through the arena. When the light clears, Zeus sits on his throne, the king and queen gods of each pantheon flanking him.

“Always has to make an entrance, doesn’t he?” Thor whispers.

Normally, I’d hush him—but I’m pissed at my nephew right now. Let Thor say what he wants. Zeus can’t do much to Thor, and Odin certainly doesn’t care.

“We are gathered here today because one of our newest demi-goddesses has had a prophecy about Lucifer. She claims he is back,” Zeus says.

The assembled gods erupt in outrage. Thunder crashes again, silencing them.

“Josefina, step forward,” Zeus commands.

JoJo rises, Apollo helping her to the center of the arena.

“For the record,” Zeus says, “Apollo has volunteered to aid Josefina, who has today given birth to triplets—my grandchildren. He will ensure she remains stable. Now, Josefina, how did this vision come to you?”

“In a dream,” she answers clearly.

“Then we will have Hypnos and Morpheus aid us,” Zeus commands.

The god of sleep and the god of dreams glide through the crowd, their forms slipping between gods like smoke through stone.

Hypnos waves a hand and a bed appears. Apollo helps Josefina onto it, and she’s settled by the time the two gods reach her.

“Display her dream so that we may all see this prophecy,” Zeus instructs.

Hypnos and Morpheus nod.

Hypnos places his hands on Josefina’s temples. Within seconds, her eyes close and her body goes slack—sleep has claimed her.

Then Morpheus takes his place. His hands replace Hypnos’, and for several long, tense minutes, nothing happens.

And then the sky above us ignites.

Even though I know what’s coming, it still hits me like a punch to the chest.

Blood is everywhere—splattered on walls, running in rivers down stairs and gutters, pooling in the streets. It even seems to fall from the sky.

The angle shifts. Josefina’s hands and blood-soaked clothes come into view.

Fire crackles. Buildings collapse. Screams echo. The wounded moan.

When the vision pans up, bodies litter the ground.

And in the distance, above the battlefield, a figure flies—laughing, grinning, reveling in the chaos.

Lucifer.

Alive. Whole.

And full of power.