Echoes of Olympus; The Return of the Forgotten Gods

Chapter 22

Zephyr's POV

I woke up to the sound of steady, rhythmic breathing, the kind that comes from pushing yourself, from muscles straining and lungs working to keep up. Blinking the sleep from my eyes, I rolled over on the thin mattress and rubbed at my face, trying to shake off the last of the grogginess. Through the dim, early morning light streaming in through the cracked windows of the warehouse, I saw him — Dorian, of all people, already up and working out.

I stared for a second, trying to figure it out. This wasn't like him. Dorian never was the type to be up at the crack of dawn, not unless something was eating at him. And judging by the dark circles under his eyes, it wasn't that he'd woken up early. No, it looked more like he hadn't slept at all.

I shifted slightly, leaning on my elbow as I watched him, unsure of what to think. Was he running himself into the ground because of yesterday's argument? The guilt crept in slowly, crawling up my spine and settling uncomfortably in my chest. He'd been outnumbered, all of us piling on him at once. But I stayed quiet, clamping down on the urge to say anything. Pride can be a stubborn thing. Instead, I rolled my shoulders, stretched out the stiffness, and got up, pretending I hadn't noticed him struggling through push-ups.

A bit later, as the others started to stir awake, I slipped back into my usual self, cracking jokes and throwing out sly remarks to cover the awkwardness. It wasn't long before the girls joined us, moving quietly as they shuffled over to the makeshift kitchen area. Avaia and Seraphina didn't say much; hell, none of us did. Mr. Asterion kept his hands busy with whatever he could find, and little Atlas was playing with that toy chestnut his dad had crafted, a look of pure joy on his face that felt out of place among the tension in the air.

Breakfast was simple, if you could even call it that. A few pieces of stale bread, canned beans warmed over a small fire. It wasn't glamorous, but it was something. We all sat around in near silence, the only sounds coming from Atlas' little hums as he played and Mr. Asterion's soft, distracted muttering as he added tiny flowers to the crown he was crafting.

It felt like we were all just waiting, stewing in the aftermath of the fight, waiting for someone else to speak first, to break the ice. I kept glancing at Dorian from the corner of my eye, watching him as he ate in silence, his face set and unreadable.

Then, out of nowhere, Avaia's voice cut through the silence.

"Dorian," she said, setting her bread down and looking at him directly, her eyes steady. "I'm sorry."

My head whipped around, and I wasn't the only one. Seraphina's eyebrows shot up, and she tilted her head, disbelief written all over her face. "You're... apologizing?" she asked, her voice laced with incredulity.

Avaia nodded, her gaze never leaving Dorian. "I get it now," she continued. "What you said yesterday, about how we need allies... You were right. We've been so focused on fighting them, on trying to prove we're better than they are, that we never stopped to think about what we actually want to accomplish."

Dorian looked at her, surprise flashing briefly across his face before he regained his composure. "Took you long enough," he said, but his tone was softer than usual.

Seraphina scoffed, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes at Avaia. "You can't be serious. You want to work with them? The Crudares? After everything?"

Zephyr chimed in, crossing his arms with a smirk, though there was a flicker of uncertainty in his gaze. "Yeah, Avaia. Since when did you start siding with the enemy?"

Avaia's eyes sharpened, and she leaned forward, her voice calm but edged with a determination that seemed to silence the whole room. "Do you actually think we can win this fight on our own? Just the five of us? Look around, guys. Look at where we are." She gestured to the cracked walls of the warehouse, the peeling paint, the cold, damp floors. "We're hiding in an abandoned warehouse, barely scraping together enough food to eat every day. We're just kids, taking on an organization with more resources, more power, and more connections than we can even comprehend."

She paused, letting her words sink in, her gaze sweeping over each of us. "We need to stop letting our pride make our decisions. This isn't about who's right or wrong anymore. This is about survival. And if teaming up with the Crudares gives us a chance, a real chance, to make a difference... then maybe we need to stop being so damn stubborn."

Seraphina shook her head, her jaw clenched. "But they're reckless, Avaia. They don't care about anyone but themselves. How can we trust them?"

Avaia let out a slow breath, her gaze unwavering. "Do we really have any other choice? And maybe... maybe they're not as different from us as we think. They're trying to survive too, fighting in their own way. If we could just put aside our differences, maybe we'd realize we're not as alone in this as we thought."

Her words hit hard, slicing through the silence like a knife. I wanted to argue, to defend the way we'd always done things, but... damn it, she had a point. Even if I hated to admit it.

Dorian nodded slowly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Glad to see someone gets it."

Zephyr's pride flared up, and he couldn't help but mutter, "Oh, don't start getting smug, Dorian. We're still not best friends or anything."

Avaia rolled her eyes, but there was a glimmer of amusement in them. "You can hate them all you want, Zeph. But hating them isn't going to get us anywhere. We're stronger together than we are apart, and deep down, you know that."

I exchanged a glance with Seraphina, and I could see the reluctance in her eyes, the way she wanted to cling to the way things had always been. But even she looked like she was starting to get it, like Avaia's words were breaking down that wall of pride brick by stubborn brick.

Dorian leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked at each of us. "So... are we done being childish, or do I need to wait for the rest of you to catch up?"

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help the small smirk that tugged at my lips. "Don't push it, Dorian. Just because Avaia's on board doesn't mean we all are."

Avaia shot me a look, her expression a mix of exasperation and affection. "Zeph, you know she's right."

Seraphina sighed, finally uncrossing her arms and leaning forward, her gaze softening just a bit. "I still don't like it. But... if this is what it takes to survive, then I guess I don't have much of a choice."

There was a quiet moment, like the calm before a storm, and then Dorian spoke again, his voice low but carrying a weight I hadn't heard before. "Look, I get it. I don't like them either. But this isn't about liking them. This is about making sure we make it out of this alive. All of us."

And somehow, despite myself, despite the stubborn pride and anger still simmering beneath the surface, I felt the last of my resistance crack. Maybe Avaia was right. Maybe we were being petty, clinging to an old grudge when we should have been looking at the bigger picture. And maybe, just maybe, Dorian's way was the only chance we had.