The air on the slopes of Mount Olympus was thin and carried the memory of lightning. Zeus sat on a broken column, his eyes closed, his consciousness expanding outwards. He wasn't just listening with his ears; he was feeling for the absence Hades sought, sending out a subtle pulse of his own chaotic energy like a sonar ping into the depths of reality.
Hera stood nearby, watching him. The silence stretched, filled only with the whisper of the wind. Then, Zeus's eyes snapped open. A slow, predatory smirk spread across his face.
"What is it?" Hera asked, her voice casual but her eyes sharp.
"I found someone," Zeus said, standing up. The air around him crackled with anticipation. "An old... acquaintance. One who owes Heaven no love."
"Who?" Hera frowned, scanning the horizon as if she could see what he felt.
"The one who caused them more trouble than any of us ever did," Zeus chuckled. "The Great Sage, Equal of Heaven."
