Zeus’s voice thundered through the hall. “Hermes!”

  In a heartbeat, Hermes materialized at his side, swift as a gust of wind. “Yes, Your Majesty. How may I serve?”

  His sky-blue toga shimmered, cinched with a golden belt buckle shaped like outstretched wings. A gleaming gold caduceus was emblazoned on his back.

  “Clear the guests from the hall,” Zeus commanded, his tone brooking.

  Hermes replied with no delay. “It shall be done.”

  With a sharp snap of his fingers, the grand entrance doors of the Great Hall swung open. Hermes lifted into the air on his winged sandals and addressed the gathering with crisp authority:

  “His Majesty has brought the banquet to an early close due to unforeseen circumstances. I kindly ask all esteemed guests to make their way calmly to the front entrance. Thank you for your cooperation. Should you have any questions, I’ll be available once we are outside.”

  He made his way toward the main entrance, hovering around the mist from the stone creature, gliding swiftly toward the exit, humming softly to himself. Suddenly, a sinister voice slithered out from the swirling veil of smoke. “Why not stay?”

  From the haze, the stone figure, unprovoked, leapt toward Hermes at frightening speed, its feet never touching the ground.

  “Watch out, Hermes!” shouted Maia from somewhere in the crowd. She wore a black toga with the Seven Sisters star constellation embroidered on her back—each star a sparkling diamond, except her own, which shone as a green emerald.

  Hermes spun around, eyes widening as the stone creature drew back its fist mid-air, poised to strike. Just as the blow was about to land, two arrows cut through the air—one glinting silver, the other blazing gold.

  They struck the creature’s right flank straight and true in perfect unison. The force of their impact sent the stone monster hurtling through the air sideways crashing through the centre stage and into a marble column with a stone-splintering crack.

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  The creature let out a ghastly, inhuman wail as it slumped to the ground, smoke pouring from its wounds. Guests screamed and fled in blind panic; only the Olympians remained.

  “Nice shot, sister,” Apollo called, his voice warm with pride. He stood poised in a resplendent gold toga, an amethyst lyre emblem glowing faintly upon his back, a golden bow held ready in his hand.

  Artemis stepped forward, her silver bow drawn and steady. Her sumptuous silver toga caught the torchlight as she moved, and upon her back, a green emerald bow-and-arrow sigil tilted toward the sky. “And you, brother,” she replied, her eyes never leaving the fallen creature. “It has been many moons since we hunted together.”

  “Indeed,” Apollo said, following at her side, his expression darkening. “I must say, dear sister, this prey has become somewhat personal to me.”

  “And why is that, dear brother?”

  “I won’t be able to play my lyre tonight,” Apollo replied dryly. “This stone beast frightened my audience away—ruined my performance before it ever began. Most frustrating.”

  Artemis narrowed her gaze. “I, too, am disappointed. Which is precisely why its head shall serve as a trophy.”

  The divine twins strode toward their quarry, stepping over shattered glass and overturned platters. As they passed Hermes, Artemis smirked at the messenger god.“You’re getting slower.” she taunted.

  Apollo glanced at Hermes with a grin as he walked by. “Don’t mind her—she’s still bitter you beat her in the last race you had.”

  “I heard that,” Artemis called back.

  “I only jest, dear sister,” Apollo replied with exaggerated innocence. “I’m merely trying to lighten the mood. It’s grown rather gloomy all of a sudden, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Focus, brother,” Artemis said, her eyes locked on the target. “Unless you wish for our prey to escape.”

  They advanced through the ruined hall, stopping roughly fifteen feet from their quarry. Bows raised. Strings pulled tight.

  The stone creature lay still, cracks spider-webbing across its form, smoke seeping from wounds left by the arrows. Despite its battered state, it chuckled. Then it looked up, neon-blue eyes glowing, then grinned, revealing its gold teeth. “I was only going to give him a hug,” he said sarcastically. “So why the hostility? I've only been born a few minutes.”As it started chuckling to itself

  Artemis called across the hall, “Shall we deliver the coup de grace to this stoned beast, sire?”

  Zeus looked down at Metis in his arms. She met his gaze, her voice trembling. “Please—I beg you, my love—send him to Tartarus. There, he can do you no harm.”

  Zeus paused, then gave Artemis a silent nod.

  Artemis and Apollo released their arrows.

  “Noooo!” Metis cried.

  But before the arrows could strike, a shield streaked through the air, intercepting both mid-flight. It struck them with a metallic clang, sending sparks flying. The arrows ricocheted to the floor as the shield rebounded off the column across the hall, snapping back into Athena’s waiting hand.