Stormblade Desolate Domain, central citadel.
"Since you are done, now I have your undivided attention."
Hearing this Athena only glanced at Thalia, Anastasia already looking away from the corpse-strewn floor, Elaine covering a yawn, and Thalia stepped forward once, that same solemn face from the gates still on her, because a man who sat through his own hall dying just to start a conversation had already named himself her problem.
"Yours," Athena said.
Anastasia nodded.
Elaine didn't even bother.
Valthor's smile thinned as he stood, handsome face peeling back, obsidian horns finishing their curve, crimson abyss-eyes opening, living-lightning wings tearing out of his shadow while Stormblade answered him and the ruined hall warped until it didn't know if it was a room or a sky, and he stacked his names like stacking them would make four goddesses kneel.
