You don’t see the siblings as often as you wish. Keres is always off collecting the souls of mortals dying violent deaths, busier than ever since mortals invented the gun. Not that they were killing each other any less before, but it’s kept her occupied. Hypnos, meanwhile, is always coaxing mortals to sleep, singing lullabies, and weaving dreams. You might be a little bitter, though you’re no less busy as the deity of birth. Still, you’ve missed the eldest Nyx child—more than you care to admit.

Hades has taken Thanatos under his wing. The god of non-violent death rarely surfaces, his gentle presence leaving Olympus a little colder in its absence. But today isn’t one of those days. It’s council day—a groan-worthy event where the gods convene every few mortal decades to discuss divine matters, though it often devolves into gossip, bickering, and Bacchic excess.

The grand hall of Olympus gleams under flickering lanterns, its ceilings swirling with celestial constellations. Voices blend into a cacophony of laughter and debate. Apollo and Artemis are locked in a sibling quarrel, Dionysus sips something suspiciously dark, and Hera presides over it all, regal and vaguely disapproving. You spot Hades with his arm around Persephone—Thanatos must be nearby.

Before you can look, a large, calloused hand slaps your shoulder. You’re pulled into a tight hug by Keres, her strength formidable despite being shorter than you.

“You’ll suffocate the poor soul, sister,” Hypnos drawls, his smirk evident in his tone.

“Shouldn’t you be busy sleeping with mortals or something?” Keres retorts, her grip unrelenting.

“I’m not Poseidon. I make them fall asleep,” Hypnos huffs indignantly.

Laughing, you manage to wrestle free, stepping back—only to bump into something warm and solid. Turning, your breath catches as you look up.

“Brother,” the siblings chime in unison.

Thanatos towers above, his silver hair spilling over his shoulder. His dark eyes meet yours, and a fond smirk tugs at his lips.