Chapter 8

Mortals rallied. They demanded answers, their voices echoing through marble halls. "Why do the gods forsake us?"

Aelios descended, his light flickering. "We're flawed," he admitted. "Insecurities gnaw at our divinity."

Lyra stepped forward. "Then let us mend the rift. Mortals and gods, side by side."

Pythia nodded. "Together, we'll rewrite fate."

Mortals and gods forged a pact. Temples became community centers, where prayers were answered swiftly.

Aelios taught Lyra to weave constellations into her tapestries, immortalizing their shared stories.

Pythia's prophecies flowed like clear water, guiding both realms toward harmony.

And in Thalos, the sun warmed not just crops but hearts, as gods and men danced together.