King Eldors sat upon his throne, his face an intricate mask of contemplation. The mortal ruler of Velmor, a kingdom caught in the crossfire of gods and legends, had seen much in his lifetime.

  But never this.

  In his hall stood Medusa, feared beyond reason. Beside her, her son, Reazel, who had somehow managed to command her favor. Then, there was Nyx, a goddess older than Olympus itself, and her son, Reaga, who had just reduced the God of War to an awkward bystander.

  This was beyond politics. This was beyond war. This was madness.

  And yet, King Eldors knew one thing.

  If he did not secure The Seal from Medusa now, his kingdom was finished.

  Because the moment Raphael left, Ares would return. And next time, he would not come alone.

  So the king, a mere mortal among legends, did what no one expected.

  He spoke.

  “Lady Medusa,” Thalarios said, his voice steady despite the storm of power surrounding him. “I must ask you… does Velmor deserve your Seal?”

  Reaga, arms crossed, leaned lazily against a marble pillar, his piercing eyes locked onto the mortal king. He looked thoroughly unimpressed.

  “Why even ask for The Seal, Medusa?” he said, glancing at his gorgon aunt with an almost playful smirk. “If Brother Reazel wants to live here, just dethrone this mortal and give him the kingdom as a souvenir. Problem solved.”

  The air froze.

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  King Eldors’ face drained of color, his lips moving soundlessly like a fish gasping for air. Ares inhaled sharply, clearly offended at how casually Reaga was discussing overthrowing a kingdom—as if it were the price of a meal at a tavern. Even the serpents, who had so far only displayed jealousy or curiosity, paused mid-hiss.

  Reazel pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “Reaga—”

  “No, no, hear me out.” Reaga raised his hands as if presenting a grand idea. “Think about it, Brother. 'King Raphael of Velmor.' Doesn’t that sound good? Imagine a throne, a grand feast, a kingdom bowing to you instead of fearing you.”

  “Reaga.”

  “Come on, it’s not like this mortal is doing a great job. I mean, look at him.” Reaga gestured toward Eldors, who was sweating profusely. “Would you trust him to run a kingdom? I wouldn’t trust him to run a bath.”

  The king made a choking sound. “I—I can run a bath just fine, thank you!”

  Reaga rolled his eyes. “Oh, wonderful, a truly worthy ruler then.”

  Ares, who had been quiet, gripping the hilt of his sword in frustration, finally burst out: “You do realize this is still my territory?”

  Reaga turned to him, tilting his head. “Oh, I’m sorry, did I offend you? Do you need to run to Zeus for permission to speak?”

  Ares growled, stepping forward, but before he could act, Nyx simply lifted a finger. The shadows in the room flickered ominously, and Ares suddenly stopped moving, like a puppet with its strings cut.

  “That’s enough,” she said softly. The room obeyed.

  Medusa, who had been watching all of this with a half-smile, finally spoke. “Reaga, my dear, you always know how to entertain.”

  Reaga grinned. “Only for you, theia.”

  Reaga, “But mark my words, Brother—if you leave without The Seal, this king will have a very unpleasant guest when Ares inevitably returns.”

  The king stiffened.

  The entire hall fell into silence.

  Medusa studied King Eldors with a gaze that could have turned a lesser man to stone.

  Then, slowly, she spoke.

  “You dare ask for The Seal?”

  Eldors did not look away.

  “I do.”

  Medusa’s serpents hissed, curling around her shoulders. The weight of eternity bore down upon the king, but still, he did not falter.

  Nyx watched with mild amusement.

  Reazel, however, was impressed.

  And then—

  Medusa smiled.

  It was not cruel. Not mocking.

  It was genuine.

  “Very well.” She stepped forward. “Tell me, King of Velmor… why should I grant you my favor?”

  Now, everything depended on his answer.