Hestia sat back with her hands wrapped around a mug of something warm, content for the moment just to watch.
Hephaestus was already elbow-deep in the project, her movements sure and practiced as she and Ruby worked over the broken scythe laid out on the forge. It made her wonder how her own child was doing?
Ruby, for her part, moved with the focused enthusiasm of someone who lived for this. The redheaded reaper handled the forge hammer with surprising familiarity, then switched seamlessly to some strange piece of equipment that whirred, hissed, and emitted a tone Hephaestus immediately grimaced at.
“That’s… not a tool I know,” Hestia murmured.
“It’s not,” Ruby chirped without looking up. “It’s from a different tech paradigm. I also need a few more things made, but I am surprised that lady Hel even managed to find a magic driven drill press!” Ruby states excitedly
Hephaestus leaned forward, squinting at the humming device Ruby had so casually bolted to the forge table.
“So,” the goddess grunted, “this drill press—it just… punches holes?”
Ruby lit up like a lantern.
“Not just holes! Perfectly straight, perfectly even, repeatable holes. With pressure control. And depth stops. And—here—watch!”
Before Hephaestus could stop her, Ruby flicked the switch.
The machine whirred to life, the bit spinning so fast the air hummed.
Hephaestus’s eye twitched. “That is far too many rotations per second.”
“That’s the beauty!” Ruby said, grabbing a metal plate. “See? You align it, clamp it, lower the lever, and—”
KRRTTT—
A perfect, smooth-edged hole appeared in the plate.
Hephaestus stared.
Ruby bounced in place. “Isn’t it beautiful?!”
“…It is cheating,” Hephaestus muttered.
Ruby laughed. “No it’s efficient! Look—if you need a straight hole at a perfect angle, you use this lever here to lower the bit, and—”
VVVRRRRRMMMM
The bit sank into the scrap metal like it was butter.
Hephaestus leaned in, fascinated despite herself.
“That level of consistency… you could mass-produce armor components with this.”
“Yup!” Ruby chirped. “Back home, lots of smiths use them. I’m honestly shocked Lady Hel had one lying around.”
“She had three lying around,” Hestia added weakly. “One was being used as a flower stand.”
Before Hephaestus could decide whether that was blasphemy or comedy, a soft, polite knock echoed against the forge doors.
All three women froze.
A second knock followed, gentler, but with just enough insistence to say I’m being polite, not patient.
Ruby raised a brow. “You expecting anyone?”
Hestia shook her head. “Everyone who knows we’re here is… already here.”
Hephaestus sighed, wiped her hands, and went to open the door.
Standing outside was a familiar silver-haired waitress in a modest cloak and apron, holding a basket of bread.
Syr.
Except the aura pouring off her wasn’t shy, sweet, or remotely normal. It was ancient and divine, tightly controlled but unmistakable.
And her eyes—usually soft and friendly—were sharp with curiosity as she looked past Hephaestus into the forge.
“My, my,” Syr said with a warm, harmless smile that fooled absolutely no one in the room. “I noticed three buildings vanished and were replaced with one… unique structure.” Her gaze flicked to the drill press, to the dismantled scythe, and finally to Ruby. “I thought I should check if everyone was… safe.”
Syr was staring directly at Ruby, such a pure soul she almost had to have her.
“Yep, my goddes get it set up before she went to rest, I think we need to reach out to another familia to get the rest of the building built!” Ruby says cheerirly
“Who is your goddess?” Syr asks
“Lady Hel is!”
Syr’s smile didn’t waver—but something behind it cracked.
“Lady… Hel.”
Her voice remained light, pleasant.
Her spine went rigid.
Hephaestus noticed.
Hestia noticed.
Ruby, blissfully earnest, did not.
Syr folded her hands neatly in front of her, but her mind was spinning.
My granddaughter.
My precious little granddaughter has a familia.
And no one told me.
“And you are… her child?” Syr asked softly.
Ruby brightened. “Mhm! I’m Ruby Rose, the first member of the Hel Familia!” She gave a proud little thumbs-up, smudged with soot. “I’m helping Hephaestus repair my scythe! Well, I broke it. Twice.”
Hephaestus winced. “You, nearly shattered it and bent the shaft.”
“Mhm! That too.”
Syr stared.
Ruby was so bright she felt like sunlight—pure, warm, unguarded. A soul so perfect it practically glowed.
The kind of soul Freya would normally hunt.
But this wasn’t normal.
This was her granddaughter’s child.
Syr cleared her throat delicately, forcing her expression neutral.
“Huh,” she said, almost too casually. “I wasn’t aware Hel had… returned to the lower world.” Lying through her teeth.
Hestia snorted. “You should have felt it, I think most mortals did.”
“So,” Syr said smoothly, slipping back into her practiced smile, “you and your goddess are moving in right beside the Hostess. Then I suppose I’ll be seeing much more of you.”
Ruby beamed. “Definitely!”
Syr matched her smile, elegant and kind… while inside, Freya was screaming questions.
Why didn’t Hel tell me she was forming a familia?
Why is she involving the Greek
And why—why—has no one introduced me to this girl sooner?
But outwardly?
Syr simply said, “If you need anything… do let me know. We are neighbors now.”
“I’ll tell Hel you stopped by!” Ruby beams.