Eve
One of the largest rooms in the castle had been converted into every child's dream. The colours filled every spot—pastels and brights competing for attention—and stepping into it actually lifted my mood despite the weight I'd been carrying from Hades's office.
Freddie was a statue in the corner, he bowed as he noticed us.
We returned the greeting.
There were three beds, each one claimed by its occupant with stuffed animals, blankets, and the precious chaos only children could create. Sophie's bed was against the far wall, draped in purple and pink, a small mountain of plush wolves piled at the foot. Elliot's was nearest the door, covered in a star-patterned quilt, his collection of toy soldiers arranged in careful formation on the nightstand. And Micah's—Thea's little brother—was by the window, modest and neat compared to the others, as if he still wasn't sure he was allowed to make himself at home.
