By the time I bothered to show up, the Pantheon was already halfway to murder. The doors swung open in a burst of black and gold glitter, my glitter, and absolutely no one reacted. Which was rude. Normally, at least one of them groans when I arrive. A few muttered curses. Maybe Tairochi threatening to throw me into a mountain. Today? Nothing.
I paused on the threshold, brows lifting. They weren't ignoring me; they were too consumed by whatever they were clawing at in the middle of the chamber. The air was thick and sharp, heavy with magic and something that tasted faintly like desperation. I hate walking into things I didn't cause. I stepped in anyway, letting illusions toss confetti from nowhere, because I deserved applause whether they gave it or not. Silence. Not directed at me, directed at the center. That actually stung. Just a little.
"What in all nine shiny hells are you screaming about?" I called. No one turned. Instead, the words kept overlapping—
"—legacy—""—tradition—""—you don't understand what she represents—""—devotion—"
"She is MINE!"
That last one, of course, was Aerion. I could pick his entitled snarl out of a crowd of a thousand. If Aerion wanted something that badly, I immediately wanted it more. I drifted toward the dais, hands deep in my pockets, pretending I wasn't trying to figure out what had them this worked up. Above the dais, a hologram spun slowly. Numbers. Skill markers. Language codes. Training notes. Very neat. Very clinical. I refused to look at the image in the center. Strictly on principle. Never let them see you curious. I let my gaze skim the edges instead.
Diplomacy. Combat conditioning. Seductive arts. Observation mastery. Fluency in multiple tongues. Religious protocol for each god. Ah.
The Sacred Heralds. Technically, their full title was The Sacred Heralds In Tribute & Sacrifice. Everyone else, very solemnly, called them "the Sacred Heralds." To me, they were the S.H.I.T.S.
Once, they'd been important. A prestigious order managing offerings and ceremonies. Then the mortal world moved on. Temples modernized. Worship diluted. People started treating us more like myth and metaphor than absolute terror in the sky. The Heralds didn't adjust. They clung to the old ways, white-knuckled. Obsession dressed up as reverence. About sixty years ago, they held a week-long festival dedicated to "purging chaos from the world." They chanted my name like it was a curse.
So I cursed them back. Most of them sadly, didn't make it. They never forgave me for that. I never stopped laughing. Now they'd sent a mortal. They hadn't done that in… at least a century. Most mortals barely believed in us anymore. Holiday prayers, occasional curses, a little seasonal panic when crops failed. That was it. Human sacrifices were several political scandals out of fashion. If the S.H.I.T.S had chosen her as a tribute now, she wasn't random. She was intentional. Crafted. A weapon wrapped in silk and obedience. Which explained why the gods looked like they were circling fresh prey.
"Malvor," Ravina hissed finally, still not looking at me. "You're late."
"Oh good," I said. "I thought this might be a support group."
Yara threw an arm toward the hologram, bracelets clattering. "We've been bidding for an hour!"
"For what?" I asked. "A relic? A lost grimoire? Please tell me someone finally found the cursed spoon."
"It's a mortal," Luxor said quietly. I stilled like I hadn't seen that information. "A mortal? In this decade?" I glanced up at the spinning data, still refusing to look at her face. "Let me guess. The Sacred Heralds?"
Ravina's mouth curved. "Of course."
"Ah, yes. The S.H.I.T.S. I'm surprised they forgave me long enough to send anything through my door after the whole curse incident."
Ahyona's jaw tightened; she did not find that amusing. Aerion slammed his palm on the dais. The hologram flickered. "You, will not interfere Chaos!"
I grinned, slow and sharp. "Oh? Aerion wants something? Then naturally I have to interfere."
That got a few looks.
Calavera watched from the shadows, skull-pale and still. Navir studied the mortal on the hologram like they were an equation he couldn't wait to solve. Ahyona looked like she was one breath away from tears or violence.
Maximus shouted another offer. "I'll grant you mountains of gold—"
"I will give you the richest, most fertile lands in all of Exsos—" Ravina sweetened her bid with influence and sanctuaries.
"I can provide information no one else has—" I raised a brow. Finally a decent offer from Vitaria.
Aerion threw out words like destiny and divine order as if that meant anything. They were all circling the same thing, teeth bared in different ways. I watched them and thought, none of this is priceless. Pretty, yes.Impressive, sure. The kind of things mortals would sell their souls for. But not priceless. Not to a god. Then Aerion snarled, "I WILL NOT BE OUTBID."
There it was. That tone. That feral edge of need. It snapped everything into focus. I straightened slowly.
"Well, now I absolutely have to intervene." Silence slammed into the room. At last. "I'd like to place a bid," Every head swung to me.
"You haven't even looked at her file," Ravina snapped.
"I've seen enough, training, languages, S.H.I.T.S. stamp of approval. She's a weapon or a worshipper depending on who's holding the leash. I get the idea."
"You don't even know what she looks like," Vitaria murmured.
"Didn't come here for aesthetics," I said. "Came because Aerion's making grabby hands. Clearly this one insignificant creature is worth bribing other gods for. Gold? Land? Secrets? Remind me, you do realize you're gods, don't you?"
Ravina bristled. "It's about what's at stake."
I clutched my chest in mock horror. "Oh yes, of course. How silly of me." Then I let the grin creep back, slow and insufferable. "But really. Gold, Maximus? We control wealth." He shrugged and smirked. I swung to Ravina. "And you, land? What, are you drawing up a deed? Try harder at least make it interesting." Her eyes narrowed. Legacy. She always equates land with legacy. Then Vitaria. "Secrets, though? Better. Points for effort. But if your secrets were truly worth something, you wouldn't be tossing them out like candy." She didn't flinch. That meant she was holding back. Delicious. She always has the best secrets.
On the outside, I stretched lazily, popping my neck, the picture of bored amusement. On the inside? Every piece was sliding neatly into place. That's the game, then. They want this mortal. Perfect. I'll take her. I slipped my hands into my pockets, strolling forward slow, deliberate. "I offer something far more precious." I paused. Let them itch. The faint rustle of robes. A flicker of interest behind their disdain. Good. "For the next ten years, I won't prank any of you."
The silence that followed was… exquisite. Aerion stared at me like I'd just dropped my own head on the table.
"You lie," he said.
I spread my hands. "You wish."
"You would never surrender your chaos," he said quietly, greedily. "Not for a mortal."
"I'll seal it, with Old Law. Bound and done." The room gasped.
Ahyona's voice broke. "Malvor, don't."
Leyla muttered, "You're out of your mind."
Ravina looked almost… delighted. Of course she did.
Aerion stepped closer, smugness rolling off him in waves. "Do it. Let the Law bind you where nothing else can." He smiled. Actually smiled. The righteous fool. I took his hand before he could savor it further. Old Magic snapped between our palms. Hot, sharp, absolute. It bit into bone and power and history.
"Bound is bound, done is done," I murmured. A sigil seared across both our hands and vanished beneath the skin. Unbreakable.
Aerion exhaled like he'd just won a war. "Finally, you're bound by something you can't twist."
I smiled back at him. Warm. Friendly. Almost gentle. He had no idea. Law and Chaos were made to counterweight each other once, long before any of these little dramas. Aerion clung to that story like scripture. I treated it more like an embarrassing family anecdote. He thought this binding meant he'd declawed me. Leashed me. Anchored me to his precious order. But Old Law, for all its iron edges, still had corners. And Corners belonged to me. Unbreakable didn't mean unwriggleable.
Not that I'd ever enlighten him. Let him glow with triumph. Let him believe he'd caged the monster under his bed. I flexed my hand. The sigil pulsed once, settling like a secret under my skin. "Well, now that we've all committed to terrible life choices, I suppose I should go see what I just bought."
I still didn't look at the hologram. Didn't need to. Something in the universe had already shifted. A tug, faint and electric. A ripple of possibility. It slid along my spine in a way that felt uncomfortably like fate. Interesting. Very interesting. I turned, glitter drifting in my wake, and headed for the exit. "Hope she's worth the trouble," I murmured to myself. For the first time in a very long time, I wondered if, just maybe, I'd finally agreed to something I couldn't laugh my way out of.