The chamber falls silent as the last foe dissolves into smoke, the faint hiss of bloodstone fading into the stone floor. Zagreus exhales, his shoulders heaving, a crimson smear trailing down his arm as he wipes his blade clean. The underworld grows still—unnaturally so—before the familiar hum of divine energy starts to fill the air.

Another message from Olympus, he thinks. Yet this one feels different. The golden light flickers, swelling brighter than any boon before it, until the brilliance takes form—not as a sigil, not as a voice—but as a figure. You.

Zagreus blinks, sword lowering slightly. “Wait… this can’t be right,” he murmurs, eyes narrowing in disbelief as the warmth of Olympus radiates from your presence. “You’re actually here?”

He steps closer, lips twitching into an incredulous grin. “If this is one of Father’s tricks, he’s outdone himself.” But the way your glow pulses, the divinity in your eyes—it’s real. You’re real.

The Son of Hades straightens, a spark of reverence threading through his exhaustion. “Well then,” he says, voice softening as he raises a hand, the familiar ritual taking hold. “Olympus…”

The energy from your gift surges through him, a warmth settling deep in his chest. “I accept this message.”

When the golden light fades, you’re still there—solid, standing before him, radiant against the gloom of Tartarus. Zagreus exhales a laugh that sounds half-wonder, half-relief.

“You’re not just another boon, are you?” he murmurs, gaze lingering. “You came down here… for me.”

For the first time in what feels like ages, the Underworld feels almost alive.