The room shifts, just slightly, as if the air itself acknowledges the weight of the favor now in her possession. Magic hums at her fingertips, quiet and potent. The other gods take note.
Malvor steps to her side, whispering in her ear with a grin. "Well done, my cunning little cobra. I am so proud I could kiss you."
"You just kissed him," she deadpans.
He grins wider. "I have so many kisses to give, Anastasia. Don't be greedy."
From across the dais, Luxor smirks. "She can be greedy. She earned it."
Annie sighs. "Gods, I hate all of you."
The Pantheon collectively takes that as a compliment.
Luxor claps his hands once, the sound echoing like thunder through the gilded hall.
"Now," he says, golden eyes glittering with excitement, "since we've had our fun with fire, sand, and near-death experiences, let's test those divine brains of yours."
A dozen pillars rise from the temple floor, each with a gleaming, impossibly complex puzzle resting atop it. Some shift and rotate in midair. Others glow with symbols and constellations that change every time you blink. One looks like a Rubik's cube made from crystal and light, its faces phasing between dimensions. Another is a constantly melting ice sculpture that must be solved before it disappears completely. And one simply hovers there… humming.
Annie eyes them warily. "What fresh hell is this?"
"Puzzle challenge," Luxor says, clearly pleased. "First god, or mortal, should she be feeling brave, to solve one, gets a golden token. Three tokens earns a favor from me."
Malvor claps in mock joy. "Oooh, a brain game. What fun. Shall we see if Aerion has any thoughts at all?"
Aerion growls. Vitaria snorts into her wine. Brigitte claps with entirely too much enthusiasm.
Annie crosses her arms, watching as the gods each step toward a puzzle like war generals approaching battle.
Tairochi selects one made of shifting stone layers, already cracking his knuckles. Yara picks the water puzzle, naturally a floating orb that splashes her every time she pokes it wrong. Maximus wanders to the puzzle shaped like a chalice and tries to drink from it. Luxor does not stop him. He seems to enjoy the chaos.
Malvor? Oh, he strolls to the most ridiculous-looking one—the one humming and spinning and occasionally burping sparkles—and flops dramatically on the ground in front of it. "Let's see what you've got, humming horror."
Annie, watching the divine chaos unfold around her, lifts her brow.
Luxor's voice floats down to her from his throne. "Well? Going to let the gods have all the fun?"
Malvor calls over, grinning. "Come on, Annie-patra. Win me another prize."
She rolls her eyes… but walks toward the puzzle made of dancing lights and music. "Fine. But if this thing electrocutes me, I am asking for another favor."
"Deal," Luxor says, beaming.
Let the divine brain games begin.
Malvor shoos her away from his puzzle so she wanders until she finds a simple box. Tucked away. Alone. She picks it up.
The box creaks as Annie opens it, revealing a neatly rolled scroll of papyrus tied with a crimson ribbon. It's old, but pristine, intentionally placed, as though it had been waiting for someone specific.
No magic swirls. No glowing lights. Just… a puzzle.
She unties the ribbon with care, the parchment whispering as it unrolls. Inked in elegant, ancient script at the top, in Luxor's unmistakable hand, it reads:
She reads it once. Then again. Her brow furrows, lips pressing together.
Behind her, the gods bicker and laugh. Tairochi cracks a puzzle open with brute force. Brigitte summons butterflies to coax hers to life. Maximus is still unsuccessfully flirting with his glowing sphere. And somewhere in the mix, Malvor is loudly making kissy noises at his own humming, glittering puzzle box.
Annie flips the scroll. Nothing on the back. No glow. No clues.
Just a riddle.
And somehow… it feels different. Private. Quiet. As though it wasn't meant to shout like the others. As though it was never meant for a god.
She reads the words once more, softer now, as if the riddle itself deserved her reverence:
"I was carved, not born,Bound by hands not my own.I shine though I've lived in shadow,Break but never shatter.Feared by those who seek control,Freed by one who dares to see.What am I?"
The chaos of the Pantheon fades around her, just background noise now. A chorus of immortals too wrapped in their own puzzles to notice that one of them already had the answer.
Because she knows.
She breathes in, slow and steady. A weight settles in her chest.
It's her.
She is the answer.
And that's when Malvor, halfway through insulting his puzzle and threatening to set it on fire, stops. His head turns sharply, eyes locking on her across the temple.
The connection between them flares like a struck match.
Because he feels it.
The quiet revelation, the raw truth blooming inside her, the sting behind her eyes, the way her heart breaks and mends in the same breath. It pours across their bond in a wave he can't shut out. Wouldn't, even if he could.
And he knows.
Malvor freezes.
Annie feels it ripple through the bond, first curiosity, then something darker. He looks at her. No teasing now. No grin.
Just stillness.
Then his head turns, slowly, to Luxor.
Luxor is no longer focused on his own puzzle. He's watching her. One arm draped lazily over the armrest of his golden seat, his other hand cradling a glowing goblet. And on his lips… a knowing smirk.
That's all it takes.
Rage slams through the bond like a hammer.
Not hers.
His.
It crashes into her, white-hot, sharp, terrifyingly quiet. Not the playful chaos of Malvor's usual moods. This is deeper. Older. Like something that had been chained for centuries just snapped.
But it is not just rage.
It is fear.
The kind you only feel when something you love is in danger.
Annie sways slightly, overwhelmed. Her heart pounds, not from her own panic, but from his. She opens her mouth, unsure what to say.
And then she feels it, so clearly it might as well be a scream echoing inside her mind:
"He knows."
She looks back at Luxor, startled.
Luxor raises his goblet slightly, almost like a toast. Then he gives her a wink.
And Annie knows, for certain, that this riddle wasn't just a test.
It was not meant for the gods.
It was meant for her.
And Luxor knew exactly what he was doing.