“I don’t know yet, but the timing troubles me. Gods don’t wake without reason; not after centuries of dormancy.” She stopped pacing and looked at him. “I wasn’t certain this had anything to do with the girl until I heard something else.”
Thanatos’ irritation spiked. “What else?” Getting a straight answer from her was impossible.
Athena looked at him, her gray eyes focused. “I’ve heard of a human girl surrounded by gods, her guardians, who has attracted beings from different pantheons.”
The thought of one of the Titans or another ancient being waking made his entire being tense. “You think the sleeping god is waking because of her?”
“I think,” Athena began, measuring her words, “that when the Fates weave prophecy around a mortal, when gods from multiple pantheons suddenly converge in one location, it is not a coincidence.”
Warning bells rang in his mind. The Kabeiroi—the ancient watchers. Remembering what Anubis had seen, he sent out his senses. He felt nothing, but he knew they weren’t done.
“What do you make of the Kabeiroi?” he asked, watching for her reaction.
Her eyes narrowed. “You saw one?”
“Anubis did. It did not approach, only watched.”
“That’s not something to be taken lightly.” Athena’s expression turned distant and calculating. “The Kabeiroi signal a change.” She turned to face him fully. “If they’re watching, her visit with the Fates was significant. Whatever prophecy she received will change everything for all of us.”
Thanatos bit his tongue. He wanted those answers as much as anyone, but Iliana hadn’t shared the prophecy for a reason. He wanted to respect that. At that moment, he was grateful she hadn’t told him. He wouldn’t be able to lie to Athena—not with what she held over his head.
“She has not told us,” he admitted.
“You haven’t questioned her?”
He returned her stare with one of his own. “She’s not a prisoner.”
Athena’s expression didn’t change. “No, she isn’t. However, playing guessing games when the Kabeiroi are involved is foolish. If she holds the key to what’s coming, you’re gambling with more than her life.” She paused. “Have you even asked her?”
Thanatos exhaled slowly. “She promised to consider it.”
The goddess was silent for a moment. “Press her. If she’s the reason why the Kabeiroi are watching, we’ll be facing something bigger than rogue gods or curses.”
He resisted the urge to grind his teeth. He wanted the prophecy to protect Iliana—but what did Athena want?
She scrutinized him, then shook her head. “Never mind. Let’s set that aside. I need you to investigate the sleeping god.”
“No.”
Athena arched a brow. “No?”
“I am not leaving her.”
He could see her calculating, preparing to use her leverage over Hypnos. Part of him knew he should agree, the part that had prioritized duty above all else. That’s what was expected. To put his personal wants aside for the greater good. But the other part, the part Iliana had woken, refused to bend. What good was protecting the world if he lost the one person who’d reminded him why it was worth protecting?
“This is part of the duty I requested of you. Keeping her safe,” Athena said, leaving no more room for argument.
He wasn’t convinced, but he knew he was pushing her. How patient would she be with his resistance? If she passed the blackmail to Zeus, Hypnos wouldn’t be able to protect Iliana.
He had to give her something—for now.
“I can look for a few hours tonight, but I need to focus on Iliana’s protection until we learn more about any threats she might face.”
The compromise tasted like failure. Choosing duty over desire. Responsibility over love. But it was also practical. If there were truly a sleeping god about to wake because of her, investigating would help keep Iliana safe. He had to be both the god of death, who fulfilled obligations, and the god who loved a mortal woman.
Athena’s eyes flickered with something indecipherable. “Fine. After you’re gone, I’ll review some records and narrow things down, but you must push her on the prophecy in exchange. We can’t afford to wait much longer.”
Thanatos didn’t like that, but he knew she wasn’t wrong. He nodded. “I’ll talk to her. But she gets to decide when she tells us.”
