Xandor’s POV - Four Years Ago

  The last group trickled out of the planetarium, the sound of their chatter fading into the night. I stayed a moment longer, standing beneath the empty dome, watching the stars fade from the ceiling. They weren’t real—but they were close. Close enough to almost feel like home.

  When I finally stepped out into the night, the air hit my skin with that crisp clarity I’d only ever felt under open skies. The stars were out—real ones this time—and I tilted my head back just to feel the wind on my face.

  “Done waxing poetic in there?” Peter’s voice cut through the quiet, light with amusement.

  I looked over to see him walking up the sidewalk, a bag of sandwiches in hand and that half-smile he always wore when he pretended things were normal.

  “Close enough,” I said. We fell into step like we always did.

  By the time we reached the park, I needed to stop. I always needed to stop. There was something about being under the stars without a ceiling between us that helped me breathe better. I sat down on our usual bench, nodding my thanks when Peter handed me a sandwich.

  “I like it here,” he said, settling beside me. “Feels normal.”

  I nodded, watching the stars. “It’s the only thing that ever has.”

  We sat in silence for a while, chewing, thinking. I didn’t know if it was the stars or the long day or just the weight of everything, but the words came out before I could stop them.

  “I miss them.”

  Peter didn’t ask who. He didn’t need to.

  “Me too,” he said. Quiet. Honest.

  “I used to think we’d find them again,” I said. “Just stumble across them one day. Zoe dropping out of the sky, laughing like she used to.”

  Peter chuckled. “That sounds about right.”

  “She used to climb trees, you know,” I said. “Back before her wings were strong enough to fly. Just to feel the wind. Said she wanted to fly more than anything.”

  “I remember,” Peter said. “You always followed her up.”

  “Yeah,” I admitted. “I wanted to feel it too. Not just the wind. The freedom.”

  I looked up at the stars again. “Now she can fly for real. I wonder if she ever thinks about those days—about what it felt like just to chase the wind.”

  Peter didn’t respond right away. Then he said, “She remembers. I’m sure she does.”. I know she does. We’ll find them.”

  I didn’t answer. Not right away. I just let the stars settle around us like they used to, like maybe they could guide us back to where we were meant to be.

  And I held onto the quiet hope that somewhere out there, the rest of our family waited.

  And if the sky had any mercy, they’d be together again soon.

  Zoe’s POV - Present Day

  I cracked the door open, just enough to slip outside without letting the chill rush in and wake the others. The night air hit me like a balm—cool and crisp, brushing against my skin with a gentleness I hadn’t realized I needed.

  I didn’t go far. Just the edge of the parking lot, where a streetlight flickered overhead and the sky stretched open, stars blinking in and out between clouds. I couldn’t risk flying—not here, not now—but I could at least breathe.

  Hecate’s words echoed through me like a second heartbeat. Crossroads. Olympus in ruin. Me, standing alone with wings tucked under my jacket.

  I wrapped my arms around myself and stared up.

  So many paths. So many ways this could end. And not a single one where we all walked away unscathed.

  “I’ll stop him,” I whispered into the dark, like saying it again would make it feel more real. “I have to.”

  I slowly walked back toward the hotel room, not quite ready to go inside yet. I wanted to be near the others, but I still needed a few more moments to gather myself. The night air whispered around me, cooling the heat of my thoughts.

  That’s when I saw him.

  Xandor was sitting in the bed of our truck, arms resting loosely over his knees, head tilted back to watch the sky. The stars reflected in his silver eyes, but his shoulders were tight, his whole frame coiled with something unspoken.

  He looked… tired. Not physically, but in the way someone gets when they’ve carried too much for too long.

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  I hesitated only a moment before heading toward him, footsteps quiet against the pavement.

  “Hey, Starboy,” I called out lightly, a teasing smile tugging at my lips. “Shouldn’t you be passed out like the rest of us mortals?”

  He turned his head slowly, the corner of his mouth twitching up just slightly.

  “Couldn’t sleep,” he said. “Too many stars out tonight.”

  I raised an eyebrow as I reached the truck and leaned against the side. “That sounds poetic, but it also sounds like an excuse. What’s really keeping you out here, Xandor?”

  Xandor took a deep breath, his gaze still fixed on the stars. I climbed up into the bed of the truck beside him, not quite touching, but close enough that I could feel the warmth of his presence.

  He was always the calm one. The anchor. The one who held the rest of us steady. I’d rarely seen much emotion from him—his focus had always been on others, on holding us together.

  But now, sitting in the darkness, something in him cracked open.

  “I hated fighting with Ella,” he said quietly. “We used to spar all the time when we were kids. Our powers synced weirdly well—sunlight and starlight. We were always getting paired up. And then just a few hours before the battle, we were at the dinner table. She was smiling. We were all laughing.”

  He paused, shaking his head. “And then suddenly, she was trying to kill me.”

  I stayed quiet. Let him keep going.

  “It was worse with Stephen and Angelina,” he added. “Seeing them alive after all these years—I couldn’t breathe. I thought we’d lost them forever. And then… the anger in Stephen’s face when he went for Hector. Like we were the enemy.”

  He clenched his fists in his lap.

  “When we decided to retreat, Hector made me promise,” he said, voice rough. “He looked me in the eye and said, ‘Get them out. Keep them safe.’ He knew he wasn’t coming with us. He chose to stay so we could get away.”

  He finally looked at me, and his voice broke just slightly. “I should’ve fought harder. I should’ve done more.”

  My heart ached for him.

  Without thinking, I reached out and gently wrapped my fingers around his. His hand was warm, steady despite everything shaking inside him.

  He glanced down, then up at me. No words, just a quiet understanding passed between us.

  “I know how you feel,” I whispered. “Angelina and I—we were close too. She was never the loudest or the brightest, but she was loyal. And fierce. I trusted her. And when I fought her… I saw flashes of who she used to be. Like she was trapped beneath all that anger and confusion.”

  I thought back to the battle—my fight with Angelina. Her attacks had been brutal, calculated. But even more terrifying was what I felt when I reached into her mind. It was like falling into a maze of thorns—rage, grief, confusion all twisted together, wrapped in something darker that didn’t belong to her. I’d felt that spark of the real Angelina—buried, but still there.

  And it broke me.

  Because I hated fighting her. I hated what she had become. She was one of us—my friend, my teammate. We’d grown up together, laughed in the same halls, trained side by side. And now, she looked at me like I was the enemy.

  It wasn’t just a battle. It was betrayal layered with sorrow. And I still didn’t know how to fix it.

  But I would. We would. I squeezed Xandor’s hand a little tighter.

  “We’re going to find them,” I said, voice low but certain. “We’re going to fix whatever Cole has done to them. I don’t know how yet—but I believe we can. I have to.”

  Xandor looked right into my eyes as I spoke, and I saw the starlight shimmer in them—subtle, but there. That glow that made him seem a little more than human. A little more than just one of us. But what rooted me was the trust I saw there. Real, unwavering belief—not just in our mission, but in me.

  A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “I trust you, Zoe,” he said softly. “Completely.”

  He gave my hand a gentle squeeze, grounding us both in that moment. “But what about you?” he added, tilting his head just slightly. “Why’d you come out here?”

  His voice was low, not demanding, just curious—like he could already sense the weight I carried.

  I took a breath and told him everything.

  About the dream—no, the vision—with Cassandra and Athena. How they’d finally told me their names, how they’d left me confused and angry when they walked away, only for Hecate to appear. How Hecate had shown me visions of what could be—shattered Olympus, battles, crossroads I didn’t know how to face. And how she’d told me I had a choice, even if she couldn’t tell me what the right one was.

  I explained the way I felt tethered to Cassandra and Hecate without knowing why—how every time I thought about them, something stirred deep inside me. Something familiar. But it didn’t make sense. I felt like I was missing something, like there was a piece to this puzzle that I hadn’t found yet, and until I did, none of this would make sense.

  And I admitted how I’d snapped at Athena and Cassandra, furious that they hadn’t warned us about the trap, that they’d let Hector and Helena fall into it. How helpless I’d felt.

  But in the end, I made a promise to them and to myself.

  “We’re going to find our friends,” I said, squeezing his hand again. “We’re going to kill Cole. And we’re going to protect Olympus. Even if the gods won’t.”

  His hand was still in mine. He hadn’t let go once.

  And I didn’t want him to.

  Sitting there under the stars, I realized how easy it felt being next to him. How his presence, always calm and steady, made the chaos in my chest settle—just a little. I leaned into that quiet strength, into the comfort he offered without asking for anything in return.

  Maybe it was the weight of everything we’d lost. Maybe it was the quiet night wrapping around us. Or maybe… maybe my feelings for Xandor were changing. Growing. Becoming something I wasn’t sure I was ready for—but something I didn’t want to ignore, either.

  We fell quiet after that, just sitting together, staring up at the stars. It wasn’t awkward. It was peaceful.

  Eventually, I murmured, “We should probably head inside. Try to get some sleep.”

  Xandor shook his head, a faint smile on his lips. “I never sleep much anyway. Not while the stars are out. It’s like my body just… won’t let me. Out here, under the sky—it’s the closest I ever feel to my father. To any of them.”

  I nodded, understanding more than I could say.

  A chill crept up my spine, and I pulled off my jacket, letting one wing wrap around me like a blanket. I glanced at him. “Are you cold?”

  He shrugged, but I didn’t wait for him to answer. I extended the other wing and wrapped it gently around him, scooting closer until our shoulders touched.

  I leaned my head against his shoulder.

  His breath hitched for just a second, barely noticeable—but I felt it. And I wondered if he could feel my heart racing where our arms touched.

  There was something unspoken between us, not loud or overwhelming—just steady. Safe. Like the pull of the stars overhead, constant and ancient.

  In that quiet, I didn’t have to be a leader who had to save everyone. I could just be a girl sitting under the sky, holding the hand of the boy who always stood by her side.

  And we just sat there, surrounded by silence, stars, and the warmth of something new—something that felt like it had been waiting years to surface.