Zeus stepped forward.
Should've been simple. One foot, then the other. He'd done it a million times. Walked battlefields, walked thrones, walked into wars he had no business walking out of.
But this time—something pushed back.
Not hard. Not enough to stop him. Just… resistance. Like the space in front of him wasn't fully sold on the idea that he should be there.
His foot touched the ground anyway. The white plain dipped slightly under him. Not cracking. Just lowering a fraction, like it had to think about it first.
Zeus paused.
"…You feel that?" he muttered.
Metis took her time answering. She was watching his foot. Then his shadow. Then the way the light around him bent just a little too late.
"…Yes," she said.
Zeus shifted his weight. The ground responded again. A slow, subtle adjustment. Like it was correcting itself after he moved.
He let out a quiet breath through his nose.
"…That's new."
"It's not just the ground," Metis said.
He glanced at her. She pointed up.
