Heaven
It started small.
The way people look at you when you walk into a room. Not the quick glance of recognition. Not the nod of respect. Something else. A pause. A hesitation. The kind of look that measures distance before it measures trust.
Zeus felt it the moment he returned from the underworld.
He had brought Hades back with him—not carrying, not dragging, just walking beside him, one hand on his brother's shoulder, steadying him. The gods had turned when they appeared. Some had stepped forward to help. Others had stepped back.
Not many. Just a few.
But enough.
Athena noticed.
She was standing near the eastern ridge, reviewing the fracture map with Hermes. The silver lines hovered in the air between them, fragile and precise. She had been explaining something about stress points when the shift happened.
Hermes stopped listening.
