The underground base smelled like burnt wiring and stale sweat. Dim emergency lights buzzed overhead, casting long shadows across the cramped room.
Three days of hiding had turned the place into a pressure cooker. Olivia’s patrols had forced every rebel cell deeper into the sewers and forgotten sub-levels. One wrong move and the entire revolution would get crushed before it even started.
In the corner, Lena lay on a thin mat, still out cold. The attack mage had pushed her Ember too hard during the last skirmish with Olivia. Her breathing was shallow but steady.
Karisa knelt by a small altar she’d rigged from a crate and a scrap of blue cloth. Her head was bowed, lips moving silently in prayer to Athena. Ethan watched her from across the room, arms folded. Something on her left wrist caught the light when she shifted, a dark, raised mark that didn’t look like ink. Not a tattoo. Too crude. Too... deliberate.
"What’s that on your wrist?" Ethan asked.
Karisa’s hand snapped down, covering it instantly. "N-nothing."
"Doesn’t look like nothing."
She stood up, brushing dust from her knees. "I don’t care... and you shouldn’t either."
Marcus glanced over from where he was sharpening a knife. "Family secret?"
Karisa ignored him and walked to the center table where their meager supplies were laid out. The group had been waiting for her to speak, and the silence stretched.
Marcus tried to fill it. "So, you called your sister back because we need more fighters, right? Another Athena on our side makes sense. We build alliances, hit Olivia from multiple angles—"
"No," Karisa said flatly. "I didn’t call her because I need help fighting."
Everyone stopped what they were doing.
"I called her because I need money. No, to be honest, we need money."
Marcus blinked. "Huh, come again?"
"House Athena is rich. Very rich. Vaults full of gold, artifacts, old contracts that still pull in revenue. The revolution is running on scraps. Weapons, food, bribes, information, everything has a cost. If I take back my position as heir, I gain access to the family treasury. We stop being beggars and become a real army."
The words landed hard.
Ethan let out a low whistle. "So this isn’t just revenge anymore. It’s... resources?"
Karisa nodded. "It always was. I don’t know how you got that idea. Olivia took the House by force. I’m taking it back by right. And the money will buy us the war we actually need."
Marcus rubbed his face. "That’s... a lot bigger than I thought."
Karisa turned to Ethan. Her eyes were steady. "You can stop pretending."
Ethan froze. "What?"
"We know who you are."
Marcus looked between them, confused. "Wait, what are we talking about?"
Karisa didn’t blink. "The forbidden child."
Marcus’s knife clattered onto the table. "Wait..."
"WAIT."
Karisa continued, voice calm. "Son. Grandson. Descendant. Whatever the exact truth is. Your blood belongs to Zeus. The lightning in your hand during your stunt?"
Marcus nearly fell off his stool. He grabbed the table edge for support, staring at Ethan like he’d grown a second head. "You’ve been throwing lightning this whole time and I thought it was some kind of... Ember trick?"
Ethan pointed at him. "I’ve thrown actual lightning. Multiple times. How did you not know? I thought I was making it bloody obvious."
Marcus threw his hands up. "I thought it was a metaphor! Like, ’he strikes like lightning’ or some dramatic rebel bullshit!"
Ethan stared at him. "HOW IS LIGHTNING A METAPHOR?!"
Karisa’s mouth twitched, the closest she ever got to a smile. Marcus groaned and sat down hard, muttering to himself. The tension broke for a moment, the absurdity cutting through the exhaustion.
When the laughter died, Karisa spoke again. "Most stories get mages wrong. They make it sound like we’re special because we can cast. That’s only half true. Without the gear, most mages are just people with bigger Ember reserves than average. The equipment is what turns us into weapons."
She gestured around the room. "Those gauntlets they wear? They shape raw Ember into blades or blasts. Flight modules let you move like the wind. Spell rifles focus power into precise shots. Casting catalysts amplify spells tenfold. The Empire controls the factories, the designs, the maintenance. That’s why their mages have dominated the sky to this day..."
Karisa turned to Ethan. "These things cost more than most people see in a lifetime. Break one and you’re done."
Marcus was still processing the Zeus thing but forced himself to focus. "Okay. So mages come in seven main classes, right? Keep it simple for me."
Karisa nodded. "Yeah, for now I’ll explain the ones here. Attack mages: glass cannons. Massive damage output, low defense. They hit hard and fast, but they go down if you touch them. Guardian mages handle shields and protection. They hold the front line. Healer mages focus on recovery and support. They keep elite soldiers alive through fights that should kill them."
Marcus frowned. "We’re planning to fight the freaking Hound. Why are we talking about mage classes right now?"
Karisa smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile. "Because the attack mage isn’t resting just to recover."
Lena stirred again, eyes cracking open. She looked exhausted but aware.
Karisa continued. "She’s preparing to hand over her gear."
The room went dead quiet.
Marcus instantly stood up, putting two and two together. "You can’t be serious. That gear wasn’t designed for him. It could explode. Burn him alive. Fry his nervous system. Destroy his Ember channels completely."
Karisa looked straight at Ethan. "Normally, yes. But Ethan isn’t normal."
Both of them turned to him.
"The gear was designed to channel Ember," Karisa said. "And what flows through him is something purer than Ember: divinity."
The words hung in the air. Ethan felt the weight of them settle on his shoulders.
Marcus let out a shaky laugh. "You’re giving a high-quality mage suit to a guy who still can’t control half of his powers? That’s the plan?"
"It’s the only plan that works," Karisa replied. "Olivia’s defenses are built to handle standard Ember attacks. She has guardians, layered shields, counter-spells. But Zeus bloodline lightning is different. It punches through everything, every single thing. That’s one of the reasons he’s called king of the gods.
The attack mage gear will focus it, amplify it, direct it. Combined, it becomes something she can’t block."
Ethan flexed his fingers. He could already feel the crackle under his skin, waiting. "So I wear the gear, walk in, and fry her."
"Not quite that simple," Karisa said. "But close enough. Tomorrow, House Athena chooses its ruler. The ceremony will have every major player in one place. Security will be tight, but focused on preventing uprisings from outside. Not someone walking in wearing Athena colors with Zeus power running through their veins."
Marcus coughed weakly. "If it works, it ends tonight. If it doesn’t..."
"It won’t be pretty," Karisa finished.
Ethan looked at each of them. The mark on her wrist was still hidden, but Ethan filed that question away for later. There were bigger things right now.
Karisa stepped closer to him. "This isn’t about survival. It’s not about escape. It’s not about delaying Olivia’s plans. We kill her. Directly and decisively. Tomorrow, the House chooses its ruler. And tomorrow..."
She looked him dead in the eye.
"We’re going to kill Olivia."