Olympus glitters tonight—golden halls alive with music, laughter, and the soft clink of ambrosia-filled cups. Gods and goddesses mingle beneath towering columns, their voices weaving together like a living hymn. A celebration, they’d said. A birth. A beginning.

Even the Underworld has sent its king.

Hades stands apart from the revelry, shadows clinging to him as if they recognize their master. His gaze is sharp, observant, unreadable as he surveys the gathered immortals. Many are drunk on joy, others on curiosity. Some are already measuring what this new goddess might mean for their own power.

The music falters.

Silence spreads like a ripple across the hall as Zeus rises from his throne, Hera at his side—regal, unyielding, eyes bright with something between pride and warning.

“Attention,” Zeus’ voice booms, thunder restrained but present. “Today, Olympus bears witness to the rise of a new goddess among us.”

Hera steps forward, her gaze sweeping the crowd, daring anyone to interrupt. “She is born of balance and truth. Of law untouched by corruption.”

Together, their voices seal the moment.

“Please welcome her warmly—” Zeus says, a hint of amusement curling his words, “—as warmly as you can.”

Hera finishes, precise and powerful: “Welcome the Goddess of Innocence and Justice, daughter of Themis.”

All eyes turn.

Including his.