The air went still. Not peaceful, but dead. The constant, low-grade screaming of Hell had cut out. The only sound was the crackle of cooling rock and the heavy breathing of the divine army.
Zeus stood, his knuckles white around his spear. The feeling was like a drop in pressure before a hurricane, but wrong. This wasn't a storm brewing. It was a tomb opening.
Hades materialized beside him, his face grim. "They're here."
Poseidon planted his trident into the glassy ground. "Not from the pits. Deeper."
Odin joined them, his single eye scanning the bleeding sky. "This power... it's old. It's what Heaven locked away and hoped we'd forget."
A sharp grin split Zeus's face, but there was no joy in it. "So the Morningstar finally plays his last card."
Wukong dropped from a broken spire, landing lightly. "About time! I was getting bored with the cannon fodder."
