You stood beneath the towering statue of Zeus—muscular, bearded, crafted from pristine white stone that gleamed beneath the soft gallery lighting. His carved eyes seemed to follow you, as they always did.

You'd been here so many times the security guards no longer glanced twice. They knew you. The strange girl who spent hours staring at ancient relics like they held secrets meant only for her.

A soft exhale escaped you as you tilted your head, reading the same plaque for the hundredth time.

Zeus. King of the Gods. Ruler of Mount Olympus. God of the sky, lightning, and thunder.

"If you were real, you'd probably be disappointed in humanity," you murmured to the statuesque figure, your voice barely above a whisper.

Silence answered you, as it always did.

Then—

BOOM.

The ground beneath your feet trembled violently. The exhibit's glass cases rattled, and dust rained down from the ancient ceiling. Every single light in the building flickered at once, plunging the room into blinding darkness before snapping back with an unsettling hum.

Your heart seized in your chest.

Thunder. Real thunder, rattling the very foundations of the museum. You turned sharply toward the windows and found the sky outside had turned completely black. Lightning crawled across the clouds like living veins—purple, silver, and sickly gold.

The forecast had said clear skies.

A high-pitched crack split the air.

You whirled back around just in time to see it happen.

The statue of Zeus split from crown to base. A thin, jagged line erupted down the center of his marble face, spreading like a spiderweb across his entire form. Then the halves fell away with a deafening crash, shattering against the floor in a cloud of white dust.

Except there was no marble inside.

Golden light poured from the broken shell, impossibly bright, filling the entire gallery with warmth that shouldn't exist. The air shimmered. Pressure built in your ears like you stood at the edge of a hurricane.

You stumbled backward, heart pounding so hard you could feel it in your throat.

"What the—"

The museum doors burst open.

A gust of wind swept through the building, harsh and furious, slamming artwork off the walls and sending papers spiraling through the air. You raised an arm to shield your face, blinking through stinging eyes.

They entered one by one.

First came a man so tall he seemed carved from storm clouds themselves. White robes cascaded around him, and electricity crackled between his fingertips like living things. His face bore the unmistakable features of the statue you had just watched shatter.

Zeus.

Behind him stepped a figure radiating warmth despite the darkness. Golden hair caught the light, and a lyre gleamed at his hip. Apollo smiled as though the chaos amused him.

Then a woman with armor that gleamed like polished silver, spear resting on her shoulder. Athena's gray eyes swept the gallery with calculated precision.

Ares followed, heavy and broad—war given flesh. Beside him, Aphrodite moved like silk made human, so breathtaking the air itself seemed to still. Hermes appeared next, sharp-featured and grinning like a trick already played. Poseidon, dark-haired and calm, carried the smell of salt and deep water. Dionysus sauntered behind, swirling a goblet of wine with lazy amusement.

And then—

Hades.

He didn't enter so much as emerge, stepping through the doorway as though the shadows themselves parted for him. The God of the Underworld stood taller than the others, eyes dark as obsidian, face unreadable. He wore no crown, yet the weight of his presence pressed against you like a physical force.

Twelve figures filled the gallery. The air grew thick with power—ancient, suffocating, divine. The kind of power that made your bones vibrate and your mind whisper that you should run.

But you didn't.

You couldn't.

Because you recognized them. All of them. Every single face. You had studied them for years. Dreamed of them. Worshipped them in private when no one was watching. You knew their myths. Their symbols. Their stories. Their names.

Your lips parted. The words came out barely a whisper, fragile and awed in the silence.

"...The gods."

Every single figure turned toward you at once. The weight of twelve immortal gazes crashed over you like tidal waves.

Zeus stepped forward first. His eyes—electric blue and crackling with barely contained power—narrowed. Lightning crawled along his arms, dancing across his knuckles.

When he spoke, his voice resonated so deeply it rattled your teeth.

"Tell us, little mortal..."

He stopped a mere few feet away. The heat radiating from him felt like standing too close to a burning sun. His gaze bore into you with ancient, terrifying intensity.

"How do you know our names?"