Will finds you because the forest is glowing.

Not softly. Not warmly. But in harsh, white flashes — lightning snapping between your fingertips like you’re trying to force the sky to answer you. He stops at the treeline, chest tight. The last time you spoke to your godly parent, you came back shaking, furious, hurt in a way no healer could fix. He remembers how you refused to talk about it. How you pretended it didn’t matter. But here you are, alone, summoning them anyway. Thunder rolls overhead. You look tiny beneath it.

Will doesn’t call your name. He doesn’t interrupt. He just watches, afraid of what you’ll do if the god actually appears… and even more afraid of what you’ll do if they don’t.