The inn's dusty yard offered a pale patch of weak morning sun. I sat cross-legged in it, eyes closed—not enough warmth to chase the chill from my bones. Yarrow and lavender rested in my palm, cheap herbs from yesterday's market.

  Their scent was supposed to calm. Center. All the things meditation promised.

  My mind kept cataloging problems instead. Ariadne's offer. The gap between "asking" and "commanding." The weight of her attention on us—a spotlight that attracted predators.

  A few paces away, Lena moved through forms—not her usual brawling. Something sharper. More controlled. The air around her fists shimmered, warping light like heat-haze off stone. A tiny ember spat from her knuckle and guttered out.

  She grunted, frustration wrapped around satisfaction. Progress.

  On the low wall, Hebe sat watching us both. She'd been quiet since returning from her audience last night. The silence clung to her like wet cloth—heavy, uncomfortable. My eyes stayed closed, but I tracked her stillness—the way she hadn't moved in twenty minutes, the careful, measured breathing of someone holding something in.

  "So." I kept my voice light. "What did the bigwigs want? Ouranous doesn't summon minor goddesses for tea."

  Hebe's exhale was long. Controlled. "It was not just Ouranous."

  I opened my eyes.

  "Ergana was there. Hermes. Even Dionysus."

  Across the yard, Lena stopped mid-punch. Her ember-light died. "All of them? For what?"

  "A wedding."

  The word hung in the air—careful, deliberate—like Hebe was testing how thin the ice beneath us was.

  At our blank stares, she continued. "Peleus—captain of the Apollo Guild in Epirus—is to wed the nymph Thetis."

  Cold water down my spine.

  "Peleus." The name tasted like old blood. "The father of Achilles."

  Lena's frown deepened. "Wait. Achilles? The guy who—" She made a throat-cutting gesture. "That Achilles?"

  "The same." Hebe's hands twisted in her lap—once, twice—then stopped. "The hero blessed by multiple gods. A man with more than one Enkráteia. He never pledged to a single guild, but his power..." Her voice trailed off. "My parents built entire strategies around him."

  Lena's fist hung frozen mid-strike. "So this wedding isn't a party."

  "No."

  Silence settled, heavy—the weight of divine politics pressing down on mortal shoulders.

  I studied Hebe's face: the careful neutrality, the way her gaze kept drifting toward the ground. What aren't you telling us?

  "The guest list is..." She chose each word like picking through broken glass. "Complicated. At Aphrodite's request, they have agreed not to invite the Keres. Or Eris."

  The cold knot in my stomach tightened. Snubbing the goddess of discord. That wasn't politics. That was asking for a knife in the back.

  "It is dangerous," Hebe confirmed, reading my expression. "Hermes will deliver the invitations personally. Ergana must convince Adrestia to host representatives from the Trojan guild—Aphrodite's people—using Helen and her brothers as intermediaries."

  Threads of a web spinning. Each one a potential noose.

  "And Dionysus?" Lena asked.

  A faint smile touched Hebe's lips—brief, almost genuine. "Is, as always, in charge of the celebration itself."

  The lightness vanished as quickly as it came.

  "And me?" The pause stretched. Something closed off in her expression. "I have been given a task. I must travel to Epirus."

  I waited for more. Nothing came.

  "That's it?" I pressed. "Just... travel to Epirus?"

  "To retrieve something." Her voice went distant. Hollow. "A political complication. Nothing more."

  Liar.

  But Lena just shrugged, accepting it. "Epirus. That's..." She looked at me.

  I did the math. Two weeks minimum. Through territories we didn't know. With a goddess who couldn't defend herself and coin we didn't have. "...optimistic."

  We had maybe a hundred and fifty drachmas. Not enough for coastal passage. Not enough for proper overland supplies. The numbers flashed through my mind—a ledger written in our poverty.

  "The Ouranous Guild must have a mission board." I thought aloud. "For smaller guilds. We should check."

  Hebe nodded—too quick, too eager to move past the subject. "It is not a request I can refuse. We should prepare."

  She didn't meet my eyes.

  Lena cracked her knuckles. Faint ozone returned around her hands. "Fine. Let's see what kind of trouble we can afford."

  -?-

  The Ouranous Guild Hall breathed polished marble and murmured conversation. Retainers from a dozen guilds moved with purpose—Apollo's sun, Athena's owl, Adrestia's crossed spears emblazoned on their gear.

  We stuck out in our worn, practical clothes. Bottom-feeders.

  I scanned the board. Herb gathering—ten drachmas. Monster cull in the outer territories—fifteen. Escort mission to the eastern shrines—twenty if we were lucky. Coppers and small silvers. Scraps. Not enough.

  "Nihl of Hebe Guild?"

  I turned. A guild attendant approached, her expression carefully neutral in that way that screamed "I'm being polite to someone beneath my station."

  "Lord Pan left instructions." She handed me a folded notice—rough bark-paper, familiar looping script that made my stomach tighten. "If you appeared, you were to see this."

  He knew we'd come. He was waiting.

  I unfolded it.

  'Seeking capable escorts for a brief sojourn to the Dacian Forest. Must be discreet, resilient, and tolerant of impromptu musical performances. Inquire with Lord Pan.'

  A bodyguard quest. For Pan.

  "Look at this." I held it where Lena could see.

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  She leaned in, frowning. "The Dacian Forest? That's not close."

  "No." I pointed to the route in my mind. "But it's on the way to Epirus if you cut northwest." Then I tapped the reward at the bottom. "And more importantly..."

  The sum made my breath catch. More than enough to fund everything. With coin to spare.

  "He's paying how much?" Lena breathed.

  "Pan doesn't do anything by halves." I studied the notice, then looked at the attendant. "How long has this been waiting?"

  "Three days, sir." Her expression soured slightly. "He was... quite insistent you'd come."

  Three days. He posted this before we knew about the wedding. Before Hebe got her summons. What game is he playing?

  "And no one else took it?"

  "Lord Pan's... reputation." The attendant's nose wrinkled. "Two teams declined after reading the full details."

  I almost laughed. Of course no one else wanted it.

  But we knew Pan. We'd survived his Labyrinthos. Walked through his corruption and madness and came out the other side. Maybe that's why he was still waiting. Maybe that's why it had to be us.

  Across the hall, Hebe stood deep in conversation with a stern receptionist—travel permits, seals, signatures, the bureaucratic chains that bound even gods. Lena didn't hesitate. She strode over, planted a hand on Hebe's back, and shoved her away from the counter.

  "Hey!" Lena steered our sputtering goddess toward us.

  "Paperwork later. Look at this." She jabbed at Pan's notice.

  Hebe's annoyance melted. Surprise flickered across her face, then something else—recognition? Calculation?

  "Lord Pan..." The name came soft. Almost warm. "The Dacian Forest." Her gaze traced an invisible map. "It is on the path to Epirus." She looked from the reward to my face, then Lena's. "And he is... a friend."

  The warmth surprised me. After everything in his Labyrinthos—the terror, the corruption, the moments we thought we'd die—I suppose he was. In his own chaotic, unpredictable way.

  "This is a sign." Divine certainty settled over her like a cloak. "We take it."

  "Good. I was getting bored of this city anyway." Lena grinned—fierce, hungry.

  We stood there, the three of us, looking at a simple bark-paper notice. Escort mission for an unpredictable god to a forest we didn't know. I ran through the ways this could go wrong. Stopped counting at twelve. Finnik's voice echoed in my memory: "If you can list more than ten problems before you start, you're either very smart or very paranoid."

  Both, probably.

  But Hebe's gaze had gone distant—fixed on the notice but seeing somewhere else. Tension lived in her shoulders that hadn't been there a moment ago.

  "Dia." I dropped the playful edge from my voice. "What is it?"

  She blinked. Pulled back with visible effort. Small smile. Unconvincing. "It is nothing. A political complication." She took the notice. Her grip tightened on the paper. "Pan is a friend, and this mission serves our purpose. That is what matters."

  But her eyes flickered toward the upper levels—marble doors with divine seals, guards in pristine armor standing like statues. Something about this wedding was eating at her.

  She turned to us, forcing brightness into her voice. "You are right. We should not dawdle. Lena, secure supplies for a forest trek. Nihl, confirm details with Lord Pan's retainers. We leave by midday."

  Divine authority wrapped around the words. But the cloud hadn't lifted. I caught Lena's eye—our silent signal since childhood: stand down. For now. A sigh escaped me. "Then we'll meet at the north entrance. I'll help you with supplies first."

  I leaned close to Lena, voice dropping. "Better to stop pushing. She doesn't want us to know. So she has her secrets."

  Lena's shoulder bumped mine. Her ember eyes narrowed, cutting toward me—not happy, but following my lead. For now.

  "Tch. Secrets." Sharp. Dismissive.

  "Fine. But when one of those 'secrets' sprouts fangs and tries to eat my face, you're explaining to Dia why her favorite brawler became a monster's lunch."

  She shook her head. Strands of red hair caught sunlight. "So. Supplies." Pure Lena force, shifting gears. Her gaze swept the market ahead. "I say we find the surliest merchant and haggle until he cries. Make me feel better."

  She cracked her knuckles. A wicked grin broke through. "You in?"

  "Right. 'Retainers.'" I made air quotes. "I'm sure merchants will fall over themselves to supply the mighty Hebe Guild." A genuine laugh escaped me. Tension easing from my shoulders.

  Lena's grin widened—predatory, all teeth. "Oh, I can be very persuasive." She flexed one arm, corded muscle clear under leather. "My 'asking nicely' involves lots of smiling. Maybe some threatening flexes."

  -?-

  We dove into the market's chaos. Spices sharp enough to water my eyes. Roasting meat making my stomach growl despite breakfast. Tanned hides drying in the sun, their smell thick and animal.

  Lena zeroed in on dried meats and hardtack. Her negotiation style was less haggling, more territorial display.

  "Hey! You! Yeah, you with the sad-looking jerky!" Her voice carried across three stalls. "Is this from the Labyrinthos of Lethe? It tastes like regret and old bones. I'll give you half-price for the lot so you don't have to look at it anymore."

  The merchant sputtered. His face turned an impressive shade of red.

  I shook my head and moved toward a more amenable herbalist. This was our normal. What kept us grounded when gods played games with mortal pieces.

  We gathered what we needed without incident—mostly thanks to my intervention before Lena started an actual brawl over rope prices. As we shouldered packs and turned toward the north gate, Lena fell into step beside me.

  Her boisterous energy faded into rare, thoughtful quiet. "She's hiding something big, isn't she?"

  "Yeah." I adjusted my pack. The weight settled familiar across my shoulders. "But she'll tell us. When she's ready. She always does."

  "And if 'when she's ready' is after we're neck-deep in whatever divine mess this is?"

  I didn't have a good answer for that.

  We were halfway to the north gate when footsteps hurried behind us.

  "Wait! Please wait!"

  We turned.

  Hebe rushed toward us, slightly out of breath. Divine composure completely abandoned. She looked... young. Vulnerable. Mortal.

  She stopped a few paces away. Her hands twisted together. "I..." She swallowed. "I cannot ask you to walk into this blind. You deserve to know."

  Lena and I exchanged glances. Here it comes.

  "The thing I must retrieve from Epirus..." Hebe's voice dropped. "It is not just a thing. It is a peacock blessed by Helios. The only vessel through which my mother—Hera—can descend to the mortal realm for the celebrations."

  She looked up at us. Genuine fear lived in her eyes.

  "And it is currently under the protection of the Apollo Guild. They want nothing to do with Troy after being tricked into building its walls. They have refused every official request. Every diplomatic overture." Her breath hitched. "That is why they chose me."

  The words broke on her tongue. "I'm... expendable."

  The word landed like a stone into still water. Ripples spreading.

  "If I fail to retrieve it—if I am late, or if the peacock is harmed—it will be more than failure." Her voice cracked. "It will be humiliation. It will prove to everyone that Zeus and Hera's line is truly broken. That I am not worthy of the name I bear."

  Legacy, divine pride hanging by a thread. It settled on us like physical weight.

  Silence stretched between us—heavy, real.

  Then Lena stepped forward and put a hand on Hebe's shoulder—firm, grounding. "Then we don't fail." Simple. Absolute. Pure Lena certainty.

  I nodded. "We've faced worse odds. And we're still standing."

  Hebe's eyes shimmered. She blinked rapidly. Composure barely holding. "Thank you." Barely a whisper. "Both of you. I do not deserve—"

  "Stop." Lena cut her off. "You're our goddess. Our family. We don't do this because you're worthy. We do this because you're ours."

  The simplicity of it broke something in Hebe. A small, genuine smile finally appeared.

  "Then let us go retrieve a divine peacock and attend a wedding that will surely end in disaster." She straightened—the goddess returning, but warmer now. More real. "I cannot imagine better company for such a foolish endeavor."

  -?-

  The north gate loomed ahead. Beyond it, the road wound into wilds. Forests. Uncertainty. Whatever trouble Pan was dragging us toward.

  Behind us, the city hummed with wedding preparations. Divine politics spinning webs we could barely see. Eris wasn't invited.

  The thought stuck like a splinter. A goddess of discord, deliberately snubbed. That kind of insult didn't fade. It festered.

  And we were walking into the heart of it all.

  First, a forest with Pan—who clearly had his own agenda. Then Epirus, where the Apollo Guild waited with a peacock they didn't want to give up. Then a wedding where every god and guild would gather.

  And one very angry deity who wasn't invited.

  I adjusted my pack. The spear felt heavier than it should.

  "Let's go find Pan," I said, glancing back at the distant guild hall. Its marble gleamed in the sun. "Before someone else finds us first."

  Lena snorted. "What, you worried Ariadne's going to pop out of the bushes with another recruitment pitch?"

  "Among other things."

  We passed through the north gate. Cobblestones gave way to packed earth. The city noise faded behind us—replaced by wind through grass and the distant cry of birds.

  Hebe walked between us—no longer trying to maintain divine distance. She looked lighter. Unburdened.

  "You know," Lena said conversationally, "when we signed up to be retainers, I thought it would be more 'punch monsters, get paid' and less 'navigate divine family drama.'"

  "Where's the fun in simple?" I countered.

  "Oh, I don't know. Not dying?"

  "You'd get bored in a week."

  She considered this. "...Fair point."

  Ahead, the road split. One path led northwest, toward the Dacian Forest. Toward Pan and whatever chaos he was brewing. The other wound northeast, eventually reaching Epirus and its jealously-guarded peacock.

  All roads led to the same place. A wedding where gods gathered and grudges simmered.

  I thought of Eris, the uninvited guest. Of Hebe's desperate need to prove herself. Of Pan waiting three days for us specifically. Pieces on a board.

  That's what we were.

  The question was—whose game were we playing?

  The forest beckoned ahead. Dark. Deep. Full of secrets and songs.

  "One more thing," I said as the forest's shadow reached us. "When this all goes sideways—and it will—we stick together. No heroics. No solo plays."

  Lena grinned. "Except the fun kind of heroics."

  "There are no fun kinds of heroics."

  "You're so boring."

  Hebe laughed—light, real. The sound of hope against an approaching storm.

  We stepped into the shadow of the forest.

  The game had begun.