The sky above the garden was a swirl of purples and golds, like someone had spilled magic across the clouds. I toddled barefoot through the grass, wings fluttering too small to lift me, too young to understand why they should. I wasn’t really three, not in the way other children were.

  My father was there. Hermes. Bright-eyed and fast-talking, smiling like the world was a game only we knew how to play. He crouched in the shade of the fig tree, half-watching, half-waiting.

  “I want to fly,” I told him, planting my tiny fists on my hips.

  He chuckled. “Your wings aren’t ready yet, little comet.”

  I frowned. “But I saw it. In my dream. I flew above the stars.”

  His smile faltered, just a little.

  “You dreamwalked again?” he asked.

  I nodded solemnly. “I saw Athena, too. She was hiding something behind her back. I think it was for me.”

  “Of course she was,” he muttered.

  I padded forward and rested my hand on his cheek. His memories flared to life in my mind—flickers of running through moonlit fields, stealing laughter from the wind, holding me the moment I was born.

  He blinked, startled. “Zoe—”

  “I like your memories,” I whispered. “They feel warm.”

  He caught my hand gently. “You shouldn’t go digging around in people’s heads, starlight. Even if you can.”

  “But I want to know everything.”

  He looked at me then, something old and proud and afraid flickering in his eyes.

  “You will,” he said. “Someday. When the stars call you back.”

  I didn’t understand. Not really. But I knew his voice had gone serious. So I did what I always did when things got too big. I laughed. And he laughed too, sweeping me up into his arms as my tiny wings buzzed uselessly behind me.

  “I’ll catch the stars someday,” I promised.

  He kissed my forehead. “I know you will.”

  Darkness clung to me like wet fabric, heavy and unyielding. I drifted somewhere far from my body—adrift in shadow, silence, and a dizzying sense of weightlessness. I wanted to rest. To stay here where it was quiet. Where the pain couldn’t reach me.

  But then I heard her.

  A voice. A woman. Screaming inside my mind.

  “Zoe! Wake up! Your friends need you. Please, remember who you are!”

  I flinched.

  The voice echoed again—frantic, relentless. It wasn’t just calling me awake. It was dragging me. Shaking the corners of my soul.

  “Zoe! Your friends need you! Remember who you are!”

  I groaned, trying to curl back into the dark. My head throbbed with every word. The voice was too loud. Too familiar.

  Who was she?

  Her voice was like wind through old trees, like firelight behind my eyes. It pulled at something buried deep inside me.

  My name.

  My name and something else.

  Memory.

  Flashes of light. Marble halls. Laughter under starlit skies. My wings fluttering uselessly as I chased after a figure with silver sandals, longing to fly but still too small to lift off the ground.

  And her.

  A girl with light brown hair and knowing eyes. Older than me. Smiling with something sad behind her eyes. She held my hand. She whispered secrets. She made me laugh.

  “Cassie,” I whispered, though my lips didn’t move.

  Yes.

  Cassie.

  My sister.

  We were together once. On Olympus.

  We weren’t just sisters. We were something more—bound by something ancient, something divine. Something the world had tried to bury.

  The fog began to burn away.

  Pain surged through me, sharp and alive. The weight of my body returned. My fingers twitched.

  The voice came one more time—less a scream now, more a plea.

  “Zoe. It’s time. Wake up.”

  My eyes stayed closed.

  But I was awake.

  Not fully—not yet. But the dam was cracking.

  Memories surged through me like water bursting through stone. My name. My voice. My sister’s hand in mine. And then—

  Hermes. My father. No—

  That wasn’t right.

  Not just him.

  Hecate.

  Her name rang in my mind like a bell. A whisper woven through every memory, every shadow. She was the one who taught me how to walk through dreams. How to hear thoughts. How to bend minds without ever lifting a hand.

  I wasn’t just a demigod.

  I was something more.

  All my life, something had been held back. Hidden. Like a dam in my mind, holding back the flood. And now—it was cracking.

  The truth was pouring through the breaks.

  And I remembered.

  Her voice echoed through the bond again, softer now, but filled with urgency.

  “Zoe.”

  This time, I answered.

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  “Cassie. My sister.”

  And I felt it—the surge of emotion pouring through the connection. Joy. Relief. Love. It wasn’t just mine. It was hers too.

  “You remember?”

  “I’m starting to.”

  The dam in my mind cracked wider, and the flood became a tidal wave.

  Memories struck me like lightning—glimpses of Olympus, golden and endless. A prophecy spoken in a room of marble. Athena’s calculating gaze. Apollo’s music in the distance. Hermes placing a hand on my shoulder. Hecate’s voice in my dreams, whispering things I didn’t understand. Hera. Zeus. A council of gods standing in judgment.

  I didn’t remember everything.

  But I remembered enough.

  Enough to know who I was.

  I pushed the connection back toward Cassie, reaching for her like I had in that garden so long ago.

  “Thank you, Cassie. I remember now.”

  Her reply came like sunlight. “I missed you.”

  “I missed you too,” I said, my voice cracking with feeling.

  “Now go, your friends are in danger,” she whispered. “Go show Cole who you really are.”

  I felt my heartbeat steady.

  I knew who I was.

  I was Zoe.

  Daughter of Hermes.

  Daughter of Hecate.

  Goddess of the mental realms.

  Light bloomed inside me. My limbs surged with energy. My mind, once heavy and clouded, now sparkled with clarity.

  And for the first time in what felt like forever—I opened my eyes.

  Power surged through me the instant they opened—pure and familiar, like a part of me that had been missing was suddenly returned. I could feel my godly abilities rushing back, no longer held behind barriers I hadn’t known existed. Thought moved faster. Energy sparked under my skin. The world wasn’t just visible—I could sense it. Every mind around me, every flicker of fear, confusion, and control. I was waking up in every way that mattered.

  The light hit me all at once, but I didn’t flinch.

  Because with the light came memory.

  Not the old ones from Olympus.

  The recent ones. The ones that mattered now.

  The battlefield. The chaos. The others.

  Helena’s vines lashing out. Peter’s empty eyes. Stephen burning everything he touched. Bay’s cry. Leander’s silence. Xandor—gods, Xandor—bloody and bound, still standing. And Damian, bruised and laughing, mocking Cole even as he took hit after hit.

  They were all still out there.

  And they were losing.

  Because of me.

  Because I had been asleep while Cole dragged them into darkness.

  My hands trembled as I pushed against the earth, but it wasn’t from fear. It was power. Raw and bright and limitless.

  I remembered the moment I fell. The doubt. The weight. The illusion. I remembered Cole reaching into my mind and twisting everything I was.

  But I was done being twisted.

  They were my friends. My family.

  And they needed me.

  Right now.

  I clenched my fists. The ground beneath me trembled.

  Cole had taken enough from us.

  He wasn’t going to take anything else.

  Xandor’s POV – Present Day

  It started with her breathing.

  Everyone else was focused on Cole—still shouting, pacing, lashing out at the sky like a child who couldn’t get what he wanted. The others stood in a twisted mockery of unity, weapons and control looming at their backs. But me?

  I saw her.

  Zoe.

  Her chest rose—slow and steady, but deeper than before. Not the shallow, helpless rhythm of someone unconscious. No. This was different.

  Then her eyes fluttered.

  My breath caught. I didn’t speak. I couldn’t. I just watched.

  They opened.

  She was awake.

  Relief hit me like a wave. For a moment, I didn’t care about the blood on my face or the burning in my shoulder or the ropes digging into my wrists. She was awake.

  But something was wrong.

  Or maybe not wrong—just… changed.

  The Zoe I knew, the one I had fought beside and nearly kissed under the stars, was still there. But now there was more. Her eyes were clearer. Brighter. Sharper. Like something ancient had slipped into place behind them.

  And she saw me.

  Her gaze swept over the circle, then stopped on me. Her eyes lingered, taking in the blood dripping from my nose and the arrow still lodged in my shoulder. She didn’t say anything.

  She just smiled.

  A quiet, calm, terrifying smile.

  Then she turned to Cole.

  Her hands were still bound, and her wings were tied down with thick rope around her chest. But none of that seemed to matter.

  With a single motion, she snapped the rope around her wrists like it was thread. The sound was soft, but in the silence that followed Cole’s last shout, it cracked like thunder.

  Everyone turned.

  Cole stopped pacing.

  Zoe stood.

  Hector, still holding her from behind, tried to grab her again. She moved with impossible ease—sidestepping his grasp like it wasn’t even there. Then she turned, gently, and placed her hand on his forehead.

  That was all it took.

  Hector froze. His muscles tensed. His eyes widened.

  And then he blinked.

  The light came back into his gaze like a curtain lifting. He looked around, disoriented, his mouth opening like he wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words.

  Gasps echoed around the circle. The other demigods, still under Cole’s control, watched in confusion. I saw the cracks forming—little pieces of the hold beginning to fracture.

  And Zoe—Zoe was glowing. A golden light shimmered around her, like dawn pouring through a broken sky. It pulsed with every breath she took. It was radiant. Divine.

  Not in the way I glowed when my powers surged. This was different. It wasn’t magic born from pain or adrenaline. It was steady. Luminous. Like the sunrise had taken form in her skin. Golden light poured off her in waves, soft and strong, brushing against all of us like warmth after a long winter.

  I could feel it. All of us could. The way it made the air hum, the way it rattled Cole’s illusions. Her presence wasn’t just power—it was truth. And every part of me knew: something powerful had returned to the world, and its name was Zoe.

  Cole turned.

  His expression shifted from fury to something colder.

  He had watched her break Hector’s control with a single touch—something that had taken me and Damian everything we had just to resist. He had seen the light return to Hector’s eyes as if a fog had been burned away. And now, that same power was spreading like wildfire. His grip on the others, on this ritual, on everything, was slipping.

  And he knew it.

  Fear.

  “Why haven’t the gates opened?” he demanded.

  Zoe turned her full attention to him, calm and steady.

  And she smiled again.

  “The rules require the blood of thirteen demigods,” she said softly, voice ringing with something that wasn’t quite mortal. As she spoke, she calmly pulled one of her daggers from the sheath hidden beneath her belt and sliced through the rope around her chest and wings. The cords fell away like mist. Then she stretched.

  Her wings unfurled with a slow, powerful sweep that made the air tremble. They were no longer bound by dirt or blood—no longer dulled by pain. They shimmered with gold and light, feathered strength arcing wide behind her like the banners of a goddess.

  She wasn’t just beautiful. She was breathtaking. Awe-inspiring.

  And every person in the circle—friend, enemy, monster, demigod—felt it.

  She met Cole’s eyes again, her voice unwavering.

  “But there are only twelve demigods here.”

  The words hit like a blade.

  There were thirteen of us in the circle.

  My breath caught.

  Thirteen.

  Cole.

  Hector.

  Damian.

  Peter.

  Bay.

  Stephen.

  Leander.

  Ella.

  Phoenix.

  Angelina.

  Helena.

  Zoe.

  Me.

  Thirteen.

  But only twelve demigods.

  My heart slammed against my ribs.

  Zoe was still glowing, radiant and calm as the others stared at her, some blinking, some stiffening, the cracks in Cole’s control widening like shattered glass.

  “No,” I whispered, staring at her. “You’re not—”

  I didn’t finish the thought. I couldn’t.

  Because suddenly everything made sense.

  The way her magic had shifted. The way she freed Hector with a touch—as if his chains were nothing but dust. The way her voice rang with authority none of us had ever heard before.

  Zoe wasn’t one of us.

  She never had been.

  She was something more.

  And gods help Cole—because he had no idea what he had just awakened.

  I didn’t, either.

  Not really.

  I had known Zoe as a fighter. As someone clever and quiet, with fire tucked just beneath her skin. Someone who stood with her whole heart—even when the world tried to make her small. I had trusted her. Believed in her. Wanted her.

  But now… this?

  This was more than I had imagined. More than any of us could’ve imagined.

  And yet, as she stood there, radiant and rising, she didn’t feel like someone distant or divine. She still looked like Zoe. Moved like Zoe. Smiled like Zoe. The same girl I was falling for—steady hands, brave heart, wild wings.

  Only now, she was more.

  And she had remembered who she was.

  Cole moved suddenly. He raised his hand and barked the command.

  “Take her down!”

  The others—still trapped in his influence—moved without hesitation. Leander drew his bow. Bay stepped forward with burning eyes. Ella’s hands clenched with power. One by one, they charged toward Zoe.

  I held my breath.

  But Zoe didn’t flinch.

  She stepped calmly to the side as Leander’s arrow flew past her. With a flick of her wrist, she touched his forehead.

  He stumbled, eyes wide. Then blinked. His expression shifted from fury to confusion—then to horror.

  Bay lunged next. Zoe dodged, quick as wind, and placed a single finger against her temple.

  Bay gasped. Her knees buckled. She caught herself before falling, her face pale as memory returned.

  Ella. Phoenix. Helena.

  One by one, they came at her. And one by one, Zoe freed them.

  Each touch shattered the fog. Each gesture returned another friend.

  Until only three remained.

  Peter, still holding me.

  Stephen, gripping Damian.

  And Angelina—standing silent beside Cole.

  Damian chuckled, despite the blood on his lip.

  “She’s unstoppable. Go, Zoe! Knock some divine sense into them.”

  I couldn’t speak. I just watched, stunned, awed. Proud.

  I had never seen anything like her.

  Then Leander and Hector moved—breaking ranks with fierce clarity. In one swift motion, they tackled Stephen to the ground, tearing him away from Damian.

  Bay and Ella struck next, slamming into Peter with enough force to knock him back. He resisted, eyes wild, but not for long.

  Together, they held him down.

  And for the first time since the ritual began, I was free.