AT THE SAME TIME
VESTA
The hearth tripped, not flickered, not dimmed, tripped, like someone had shoved it with a broom and then run away laughing.
"Michael."My stomach lurched.
I didn't think, I ran. Boots sloshing through mud, skirts clinging, hands shaking. The riverbank was a blur, holy water sparkling under the sun, and I could hear Bell Cranel panicking like a man whose life was written in all caps.
"HE'S NOT, HE'S NOT WAKING UP!"Bell screamed.
"I AM TURNING HIM, TURN HIM-!"Hestia shouted.
"I AM TURNING HIM!" Bell shouted.
Everyone shouted at once, chaos as thick as the water rushing by, and then I saw him. Michael. Head first in the holy water, body limp, Starpetal shards still clutched in one hand, Ignis Stone and Lightroot vines abandoned beside him. Water dripping, mud sticking, perfect disaster in human form. Cold slammed into me, a lurch in my chest, hearth screaming, every divine instinct blaring.
I dropped to my knees beside him, hands on his wet, trembling face, cold, too cold. Pulse there, weak, but still there. Thank the heavens. Something in me reacted. The items, the Shards, the Stone, the Vines they lifted from the riverbank, floating through the air as if pulled by some invisible magnet. They hovered. Glowed faintly. And then vanished… into him.
"No. NO. NO."I froze. Heart skipped a beat.
Bell yelped, Lili shrieked, Welf backed into a bush. Somewhere, a child fainted. Charlie, white haired and frail, stared like the river had delivered an omen personally to him and then his hair. Dark strands, drenched and clinging to his face, started to silver. Slowly at first, then faster, streaks spread like moonlight over his scalp, glowing faintly as if infused with the item's mana.
"Michael." I hissed. My voice trembling. "What have you done?!"
No one moved. All eyes were on him. His chest rose faintly. His hands twitched. His Starpetal shards, Ignis Stone, and Lightroot Vines were gone. Absorbed. Into him. Into his very being.
"The young man, he, he is becoming."Charlie whispered, Before he could finish, an old healer stepped forward, bowing so low I thought he had fallen flat. "My lady." He said, voice quivering. "He is Zenith."
My hearth stopped. My breath caught, Zenith? My Michael became Zenith? My chest tightened, a combination of fear, pride, and something warmer something I wasn't ready to name.
"NO!" I snapped. "HE IS MICHAEL STONE. HE STAYS MICHAEL STONE. DO YOU HEAR ME?"
But the gods were already gathering. Freya, Loki, Hephaestus, Riveria all appearing as if summoned by the chaos itself. Behind them, children squealed, pointed, and whispered: Liliruca, Haruhime, Mikoto, Bell, every single one glued to the spectacle. I pressed my hands to Michael's chest, ignoring the wet, the mud, the shocked crowd. My heart pounded against him like a drum. The silver hair glinted under my fingers. His pulse was steadying and alive.
"You absolute idiot." I whispered, brushing a damp strand of hair from his face. "Do you know what you've done to me? Half drowned, absorbing every dangerous magical item I told you not to touch, and now with silver hair. Do you realize what you've done to me?!"
"I-I think she's in love with him."Bell muttered under his breath.
I didn't answer. I leaned closer, pressing my forehead against his. Hearth energy spilling, chaotic, warm, and impossible to ignore. I felt the items, the mana, the chaos, all of it pulse through him and through me. I laughed, breathless, sharp, and full of exasperation.
"Zenith, Michael, whoever you are, you are not allowed to leave my sight ever again."I said.
The river babbled innocently. Gods whispered, children squealed, Charlie muttered prayers, Loki chuckled, and me? I had my arms full of chaos incarnate, my hearth roaring, my heart trapped between sheer panic, awe, and something dangerously like affection. Michael, Zenith, was still unconscious, glowing faintly silver, pulse steadying, items absorbed. And I, I was completely, utterly, terrified in love. I didn't wait for permission, I scooped him up. Soaking wet, silver‑haired, heavier than he had any right to be, glowing faintly like a cursed miracle. Someone shouted something about protocols. Another god tried to speak. I ignored all of them.
"MOVE." I snapped.
They moved, Bell scrambled ahead, clearing the path like a panicked rabbit. Mikoto lifted Michael's legs without a word. Welf took my cloak and wrapped it around him, hands shaking despite himself. Even Hestia fell silent when she saw his hair, her mouth parting like she had swallowed a prayer sideways. Every step toward the healer's pavilion felt wrong. Too slow. Too loud. My hearth beat against my ribs like it was trying to crawl out and sit on his chest instead. Don't you dare, don't you dare leave me now. The healer's doors flew open before we reached them, not because we knocked. Because they felt him. The moment we crossed the threshold, every lantern flared white hot. Sigils carved into the stone floor ignited one by one, reacting not to me but to Michael. The head healer dropped to his knees, and so did the others. Five, no seven healers. Old, young, trembling, crying. One of them pressed his forehead to the floor so hard I heard bone knock stone.
"My lady." The head healer whispered, voice breaking. "Forgive us, we did not know."
"I don't care what you know." I said, laying Michael down on the table far too gently for someone supposedly calm. "I care what you can do."
The healer looked up and then he saw Michael's face properly. The silver hair, the faint glow under his skin. The way divine residue clung to him like he'd walked straight through a god's dream and stolen the fire on the way out. His breath hitched.
"Zenith." He breathed.
Every healer froze. I slammed my hands onto the table.
"DO NOT call him that."I ordered.
The room shook. Dust fell from the rafters. The lanterns dimmed, then steadied. My hearth roared, hot and furious, wrapping itself around Michael like a shield.
"He is Michael." I said, teeth clenched. "He is unconscious, half drowned, and full of things that should have killed him. You will heal him. Not worship him."
"Yes." Healer said. "As you command, Hearth bearer."
They moved, finally. Hands glowing, incantations whispered. One healer recoiled when his magic touched Michael's chest.
"It's being absorbed." She said, stunned. "Everything we give him it doesn't stay external. His body is claiming it."
Of course it is. Of course he is. I brushed my thumb over his temple. Warm now, too warm, his silver hair shimmered under my fingers, and my chest twisted so hard it hurt.
"You stubborn, beautiful disaster." I whispered.
At this moment, I knew I not planning let him go, not any time soon.