Permeus leaned against the wine counter, drowning his frustrations in yet another cup of Mystia wine. The bitter taste did little to wash away the memory of Germaine’s venomous words from their earlier argument. In all his years of knowing the titan, he had never seen such raw anger directed at him. The weight of those harsh words pressed down on his shoulders like a physical burden.

  When Imara approached, her concerned eyes searching his face, Permeus deflected her gentle inquiries. How could he explain that his oldest friend had looked at him with such contempt? That every word Germaine had spoken felt like a blade finding its mark? He wasn’t ready to dissect the wounds, not yet.

  Their conversation was mercifully interrupted by their daughters, who descended upon them like tiny storms demanding attention and entertainment. The girls’ explanation that Aunt Desia had abandoned their playdate for a “serious conversation” with Uncle Darkeus made Permeus internally grimace. Any serious conversation involving Darkeus inevitably meant more criticism of his choices, especially about his leadership.

  He watched their insistent daughters drag away Imara, her playful threats of vengeance for sacrificing her in his stead, bringing a genuine smile to his face.

  Alone again with my wine and my thoughts.

  By his third jug of wine, the edges of his anxiety had finally blurred. The warmth spreading through his chest gave him courage to seek his family, to face whatever chaos his daughters had created in his absence.

  But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

  The moment Laura appeared in his path, everything shifted. The passive mask he’d been wearing melted away, replaced by something genuine and warm.

  “Look at you,” he said, “an envoy for the sea realm. Your father must be proud.”

  “Well, that is one way of putting it,” Laura replied with a small laugh. “ thank you for being such a gracious host.”

  Her laugh still sounds like a melody after all these years.

  “The credit goes to Germaine,” Permeus said. “He always handles these affairs with exceptional skill.”

  “Just wish he didn’t have to be so crabby about it this year,” he admitted.

  “I am guessing you had next to no involvement in the preparations then.”

  “You know me too well Lala,”

  Laura could only look at him with a queer smile upon her lips. “Well, you haven’t changed, have you?”

  “What do you mean by that?” Permeus asked, feigning confusion on his face.

  “Always delegating your responsibilities to others.” She said it lightly, but there was truth behind her words.

  “Sounds like your father is doing the same with you,” Permeus shot back. “Or should I assume it is your mother who came up with this plan for a get out of the meeting card?” He continued.

  “Works differently for them,” Laura replied

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  “How so?” Permeus asked

  “Well, he is teaching me responsibility, the very thing you seem to be allergic to,” Laura answered

  “And you don’t believe I have a good reason to delegate responsibilities to Germaine,” Permeus asked once again

  “I doubt you are teaching him responsibility” Laura answered “In fact, it is a lesson he should probably be teaching you” she added Permeus shrugged.

  “I have no responsibilities beyond what I created, Lala. I cannot stress this enough, but the world doesn’t need constant meddling from its makers.”

  “If you say so,” Laura conceded, deciding not to push further. “Your daughters are beautiful, by the way.”

  “In fact, it seems they only grow cuter every year,” she added

  “Well, they have very cute parents?” Permeus jibed.

  “Indeed, they have Imara’s grace and your... exuberance.”

  “Thank you... I suppose,” Permeus said, his expression softening at the mention of his children.

  “They’re the greatest creations I’ve had a hand in making.” He studied her face. “What about you? Any plans to make any creations of your own one day?”

  “Well, I would need a husband for that,” Laura reminded him.

  “Still no suitors?” Permeus asked.

  Laura’s smile faltered slightly. “Father still believes I’m to be his successor someday. Makes it rather difficult to court anyone when they’re reminded they’re speaking to the future Queen of the Sea.”

  “Has Dephenus forgotten how immortality works?” Permeus asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “He has his reasons,” Laura replied, her tone suggesting she knew something he didn’t.

  They fell into silence, eyes locked, and for a moment, the years between them seemed to disappear. The ballroom faded away, and they were once again young and foolish, standing at the shore where sea met sky, making promises neither would end up keeping.

  A commotion at the entrance interrupted the moment. Helus, Origin of the Underworld and leader of the Union, had finally arrived. His presence commanded immediate attention — tall and regal with golden hair that seemed to glow against his vibrant skin, crimson eyes scanning the room with measured authority.

  “Finally,” Permeus muttered.

  “Took him long enough,” he added, rising from his stool, relief etched along his face.

  “I should greet him,” Permeus smoothening out his robes.

  “I’ll join you,” Laura offered.

  “You sure? It is going to be quite boring,” Permeus said, warning her.

  “Just because something is your duty, does not make it boring,” Laura responded.

  “Really? When was the last time you got a rush from greeting someone?” Permeus asked.

  “Let us just go greet your brother,” Laura pleaded.

  Together, the two made their way through the crowd to welcome the final and most important guest. Normally, Permeus would have done this part alongside his wife, but he did not know where the girls had dragged her, so he guessed Laura would probably have to suffice.

  “Brother!” Permeus called out, his arms spread wide once they had reached the top of the staircase. “I was beginning to think all the Hel Wars had caused the realm to claim its Origin permanently.”

  Helus smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Fifty years of Union, and you still haven’t learned patience, Permeus.”

  “Hey you are the one who took fifty years just to arrive,” Permeus countered with a playful smirk, “so perhaps we’re even.”

  The tension in the air dissipated as laughter rippled through the nearby guests. Permeus called for attention and offered Helus the floor for a speech. After pleasantries and platitudes that mirrored Permeus’s own earlier address, Helus then, as usual per his job, called an end to the festivities and a beginning of the actual meetings.

  “While celebration is warranted,” he announced, “there are matters requiring our immediate attention. I call upon the council to convene.”

  A few moments later, as Permeus finally found his wife and children, murmurs still swept through the exiting crowd. Permeus himself escorted his wife and daughters to Germaine and Greta, whose task as usual on such nights would be to see them safely home. The titan still wore the scowl he was wearing at the end of their last encounter but, regardless, agreed to his role, though with stiff formality noticeable even to Permeus.

  His earlier irritation is still clear.

  Permeus did not give it much thought as he turned to his left to see Laura, who had been shadowing him all this time. He could see her eyes scanning the tension between the two, but if she thought that was the most tension she was going to see tonight, she was sadly mistaken.

  She should expect much more when the actual meeting begins.