AT THE SAME TIME
VESTA
The healers were still scrambling when the door creaked again. Soft, careful, like someone approaching a sleeping beast they loved very much.
"Move." I said without looking.
They moved, of course, they did. Old Man Charlie stepped inside. Mud on his sandals. Staff trembling in his grip. White hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, like he had run here despite every protest his bones must have made. His eyes went straight to the table, to Michael, to the silver hair. He stopped breathing, actually, no he forgot how.
"Ah." He whispered, voice breaking in half. "So the hearth finally remembered."
I turned on him so fast my skirts snapped.
"Do not." I said sharply. "Start speaking in riddles right now."
Charlie smiled at me, not cheerful, not smug.
"My lady." He said, bowing deeply, knuckles pressing into stone. "You brought him back."
"I did not." I snapped. "He did this to himself."
"Yes. That sounds like him."Charlie chuckled weakly.
I froze.
"Him?"I asked.
Charlie lifted his head slowly, his gaze never left Michael.
"Zenith." He said softly. "God of the Shared flame. Keeper of borrowed warmth. The one who carried hearthfire where gods could not go."
The room went dead silent. Somewhere outside, someone dropped a crate.
"The hell did you just say?"A voice Loki's, unmistakable, floated in from the doorway.
The gods had arrived, of course they had. Loki leaned against the doorframe, eyes sharp and bright, grinning like she'd just smelled a scandal. Freya stood just behind her, utterly still, gaze locked on Michael with unsettling intensity. Hephaestus frowned, arms crossed, already examining him like a forge problem. Riveria's expression was unreadable, but her hand had tightened on her staff. Behind them, the children crowded in. Bell blinked rapidly.
"Zenith?"He asked.
"Who?"Liliruca tugged on his sleeve.
"Is that a heroic spirit?"Haruhime whispered,
"Sounds expensive."Welf scratched his head.
"I sense old divinity, very old."Mikoto frowned slightly.
Good, perfect, everyone was confused. That meant I still had control. I planted myself between them and Michael.
"No." I said flatly. "He is not a god returned. He is a Level 3 idiot who fell into a river."
"Silver hair, divine absorption, healers bowing? Yeah, real normal." Loki snorted.
Freya stepped closer, one step, and the air tightened.
"Oh." She murmured, voice silk and danger. "Zenith, I wondered where you vanished to."
Michael shifted on the table, barely. I felt it instantly.
"Don't." I warned the universe. "Do not wake him yet."
Too late, his lashes fluttered. Once, twice, then his eyes opened. Not glowing, not divine fire, dramatic. Just silver, clear, calm, deep like embers banked under ash. The room inhaled as one. Michael looked at the ceiling for a long moment.
"Vesta?" He asked, voice rough.
Familiar, but still him. I exhaled so hard my knees nearly gave out.
"Yes." I said, gripping the edge of the table. "You absolute menace."
"Why is everyone kneeling?"He blinked.
No one answered. He slowly pushed himself up. The healers scrambled backward like startled birds. As he sat, the last traces of boyish awkwardness peeled away not violently, not magically, just settled. His posture straightened. His presence deepened. The silver hair fell around his face like it had always belonged there. Handsome wasn't the word, he looked remembered. Charlie dropped fully to the floor.
"My lord Zenith." He whispered. "Welcome home."
Michael flinched.
"No." He said immediately. "No no no. Don't call me that."
The gods reacted all at once. Loki laughed, Freya smiled like she'd won something.
"Figures."Hephaestus muttered.
Riveria closed her eyes briefly.
"H-HE SAID NO."Bell squeaked.
Michael turned to me.
"You are angry." He said carefully.
"I am terrified." I snapped. "You absorbed three sacred items, rewrote your own existence, and now half the pantheon is staring at you like a missed investment."
"That's fair."He said.
He reached out, slowly, gently and cupped my cheek.
The hearth exploded, not outward, but inward. Warmth surged so violently the floor sigils flared again, the pavilion walls knitting hairline cracks shut as if embarrassed to have ever broken. Outside, someone screamed as a distant shrine snapped back into place like it had been waiting.
"HEY, THAT'S CHEATING-!"Hestia shouted.
Michael leaned in and kissed me. Like he was afraid I would vanish. The hearth roared, the pavilion rang like a struck bell. Somewhere far away, stone rebuilt itself in a single breath. Loki whooped, Ishtar applauded, and Freya looked murderous. Agres appeared at the doorway in a burst of divine pressure and immediately froze.
"Zenith." He breathed.
Michael pulled back, forehead resting against mine.
"Still, Michael." He said quietly.
I grabbed his collar.
"You." I hissed. "Are not allowed to do that again without warning."
He smiled.
"Noted."He said.
Behind us, the gods argued. The children whispered. Charlie cried openly, and me? I kept my hands on him, because whatever name the world remembered, he was mine, and I was not letting him disappear again.