Three days after everything had happened, the boys were still trying to make sense of the warning they had received.
They had all managed to get medical leave from work. Aelion's boss, surprisingly, had been very understanding.
Notes were scattered across the table. Translations crossed out. The Greek message had been rewritten more times than any of them could count.
"Alright, guys," Caelum said, breaking the silence. "What do we have so far?"
No one answered.
The room remained painfully quiet.
"Great," Caelum muttered, frustration thick in his voice.
"Maybe we're overthinking it," Nyxar suggested. "The message doesn't seem to connect to what those figures said."
"Which just proves we're getting nowhere," Caelum replied, finally leaning back as if giving up.
Aelion exhaled slowly. "Come on," he said calmly. "We'll figure this out."
He looked at both of them.
"Eventually."
"Well, at least I've had a proper sleeping schedule these past few days," Nyxar said, a small smirk tugging at his lips.
"That doesn't change how stressful this is," Caelum snapped.
"Okay, Caelum—calm down," Aelion said quickly. "I know you're used to figuring things out fast. But it can't always work that way."
"But this is different," Caelum replied, his voice tight. "Our lives are at stake. I don't know why you're treating this so lightly."
He stood up abruptly, dragging a hand through his hair as he took a sharp breath, then turned toward the stairs.
"Where are you going?" Nyxar asked.
Caelum paused and glanced back at them. "I'm going to take a nap," he said. "Maybe I'll feel less… intense."
Without waiting for a response, he headed upstairs.
Aelion and Nyxar exchanged a look, unease settling between them.
Neither of them said it out loud—but they were both worried about Caelum.
Meanwhile...
Somewhere beyond the reach of gods and mortals alike, threads shifted.
A song trembled before it was ever sung.
Three measures were adjusted.
"Too soon," one voice murmured.
"No," another replied. "Precisely on time."
Far below, something ancient stirred—
and the silence grew tense, as if sound itself were holding its breath.
In a land called Anthemoessa, the home of the sirens, the air suddenly changed.
It was subtle at first—like a wrong note in a familiar melody. The sirens felt it all at once and froze, their songs faltering as unease rippled through the island. Something was interfering. Something unseen.
Then the pain came.
It struck behind their eyes, sharp and unbearable, sending them clutching at their heads as confusion turned to terror. None of them understood what was happening—only that it felt unnatural, as though something had reached inside them and pulled too tight.
With the pain came whispers.
Not commands—not yet—but insistent voices threading through their thoughts, filling the silence with a single, growing fixation: three brothers. Triplets. Bound together.
The sirens screamed in unison as darkness spread through their eyes, the veins beneath their skin darkening as if ink had been poured into their blood.
"Sisters," one of them rasped, her voice trembling as she steadied herself. "Something is calling us."
The others slowly lifted their heads, the island trembling beneath their wings.
"Then we answer," another said.
With a final, piercing cry, the sirens rose into the air, leaving Anthemoessa behind as they turned toward the mortal world—drawn forward by a song none of them had chosen to sing.
Back on Earth, the day went on like normal.
At least, it tried to.
Caelum fell asleep without meaning to.
In the dream, he stood in a blank space surrounded by unfinished stone. Broken slabs, half-carved forms—things that looked like they had been abandoned mid-work. In front of him floated a ruler, steady at first.
When he reached for it, the markings shifted.
He frowned and looked up.
That's when he noticed movement in the distance.
At first, he thought it was just another statue. A tall shape, still and silent. But then it moved.
Wings unfolded slowly.
The figure's face was blurred, like he wasn't meant to see it clearly. Its mouth opened—but no sound came out. Instead, Caelum felt a pressure behind his eyes, sharp and uncomfortable.
His chest tightened.
Something about it felt wrong. Dangerous.
He stepped back.
The ruler dropped from the air and shattered against the ground.
Caelum woke up suddenly. He feels super uneasy and rushes downstairs to his brothers.
Aelion was in the living room, scrolling through his phone. Nyxar was sitting nearby, clearly tired but awake.
"I had a weird dream," Caelum said.
That got their attention.
"I can't really explain it," he continued. "But I feel uneasy. Like we should be paying attention to something."
Aelion nodded slowly. "Yeah. I've been feeling that too. All day."
Nyxar sighed. "Same here. I tried to nap too for a bit, but I couldn't. It feels like something's coming."
The three of them looked at each other. None of them knew what it meant.
But all of them felt it.
Suddenly, they heard beautiful voices drifting from somewhere far off. It wasn't ordinary singing—it sounded like it was trying to call them, but failing.
Curious, the boys went outside to investigate.
The streets were eerily quiet. People lay sprawled on the ground, motionless, as if in deep sleep.
"Guys," Aelion said, his voice tight with concern, "something's definitely wrong here."
"Oh really? I could've never guessed," Caelum muttered, rolling his eyes.
The singing grew louder.
Not enough to hurt—but enough to make their heads feel heavy.
Aelion rubbed his temples. "Do you feel that?"
Nyxar nodded. "Yeah. It's like… pressure."
Caelum clenched his jaw. "I don't like this." They took a few steps forward, but the sound shifted, moving around them instead of toward them. It was beautiful, but it made their stomachs twist.
Aelion suddenly stopped walking.
"Wait," he said. "I feel dizzy."
Nyxar grabbed his arm before he could stumble. "Hey—don't wander off."
Caelum felt it too. A pull. Not physical—something deeper. Like the sound was trying to separate them without touching them.
"Stay close," Caelum said. "I don't know why, but… just stay close."
They stood closer together.
The moment they did, the pressure eased slightly.
Not gone. Just manageable.
They looked at each other, uneasy.
"That's weird," Nyxar muttered.
"Yeah," Aelion said. "But I think that matters."
The singing changed.
And this time, it wasn't distant anymore.
The sirens appeared moments later—the leading one hovering slightly ahead of the others.
"Are you the Korinthios brothers?" the siren asked.
The question alone froze them. Hearing their last name from something that shouldn't exist sent a chill through their bodies. Slowly, they nodded.
"Oh," the siren said calmly, "then it's time for you to meet your end."
Before any of them could react, the sirens released a piercing scream. The sound twisted the air, forming into a violent sonic blast.
"Run!" Caelum shouted.
They ran as fast as they could, barely avoiding the sonic blasts tearing through the air behind them.
...
In Olympus—the home of the gods—the deities had gathered to discuss the sudden disappearance of the sirens.
"This doesn't make sense!" Poseidon said furiously. "The sirens have never dared to leave their realm."
"I agree," Athena replied. "There is no logical explanation for this."
Murmurs spread through the hall as the gods began arguing among themselves. Zeus sat upon his throne, watching the chaos below with growing irritation.
With a sharp motion of his hand, he summoned a bolt of lightning that struck the marble floor.
"SILENCE!" he commanded.
The hall fell completely quiet.
Poseidon clenched his jaw, clearly displeased, but said nothing.
Zeus turned his gaze toward Apollo. "Did you foresee this?" he asked. "Any prophecies involving the sirens?"
Apollo cleared his throat before answering. "Unfortunately, no. My prophecies have been… scrambled lately."
The hall went quiet, and several gods gasped in disbelief.
Apollo shifted uncomfortably. The words didn't sit right with him.
Zeus studied him for a moment, then leaned back in his throne.
"Then we will observe," Zeus said. "Nothing more."
Athena frowned but said nothing.
The meeting didn't end—but it stalled. No conclusions were reached. No orders were given.
And far below Olympus, events continued to unfold.
...
Back on Earth, the boys did their best to outrun the sirens—but they were far too fast.
Another blast struck nearby, forcing them to split up in different directions to avoid being hit.
That was when they heard the voices again.
They urged them to stay together, warning that separation would leave them weak—that unity would make them stronger.
After a brief moment of hesitation, Aelion convinced them to hold hands.
The moment they did, everything went still.
They found themselves in a white realm, confused and unsure how they had arrived there.
Floating before them were three golden objects: a spinner, a ruler, and a pair of scissors.
"Go on," a mysterious voice said. "Grab the objects."
They hesitated, exchanging glances, before stepping forward.
Aelion took the spinner.
Caelum reached for the ruler.
Nyxar was left with the scissors.
"It has begun," another voice said.
A surge of strength rushed through them—unlike anything they had ever felt before.
When the trance ended, they found the world frozen around them.
Their eyes glowed gold as they looked at one another, understanding without words. They nodded.
Together, they spoke:
"Με το νήμα να γνένεται, να μετριέται και να κόβεται, άλλαξε το σχέδιο της μοίρας."
With the thread being spun, measured, and cut, change fate's design.
A burst of golden light spread across the world.
The sirens vanished, returned to their land. The humans awoke, freed from the spell. The destruction was undone, as if it had never happened.
And just as suddenly, the brothers disappeared—hiding themselves from the eyes of humanity.
...
Back on Olympus, something went wrong.
As the gods continued their discussion, a strange lapse occurred. One by one, they forgot what they had been talking about and began to leave the hall.
Apollo paused.
A quiet unease settled in his chest.
Something had been disrupted.
And whatever it was, it had happened without their knowledge.
As he returned to his domain, Apollo began searching through his scrolls, checking every prophecy he had ever written. Everything seemed in order—until he felt it.
A gap.
Something was missing.
He tried to focus on it, to understand what had been altered, but a sudden pain shot through his head, forcing him to stop. Whatever it was, something was blocking him from seeing it clearly.
Slowly, he began to connect the pieces.
It wasn't just that something felt wrong—events themselves had been changed.
Apollo didn't understand how he had managed to notice it at all. But one thing was certain.
"Fate is being tampered with," he muttered to himself.
...
Back at the brothers' house, they reappeared suddenly and collapsed onto the couch.
Their heads throbbed, their bodies exhausted.
None of them could fully remember what had just happened.
Only that something had happened.
The house was quiet.
Too quiet.
Aelion was the first to notice it. "Do you hear that?"
Nyxar frowned. "Hear what?"
"Exactly," Aelion said.
Before either of them could say anything else, there was a knock at the door.
All three of them froze.
Caelum slowly sat up. "Please tell me one of you was expecting someone."
No one answered.
The knock came again—lighter this time. Almost impatient.
Aelion stood up and walked to the door, hesitating before opening it.
A young man stood outside. He looked normal enough—messy hair, relaxed posture, hands in his pockets. He smiled like he'd been there a hundred times before.
"Hey," he said. "Sorry to drop by unannounced. But we need to talk."
Aelion stared at him. "Do we… know you?"
The man's smile widened just a little.
"Not yet," he said. "But you will."
Nyxar felt it then—a strange pressure, the same kind they'd felt before everything went wrong.
Caelum's stomach dropped.
"Who are you?" Caelum asked.
The man glanced past them, into the house, as if checking something unseen.
"Hermes," he said casually. "And trust me—you're already late."
None of the brothers spoke. Somehow, they all knew that whatever he meant by late—their lives had already changed.