They didn't have a full night.
The hydra had been defeated and Helvara's people were still sealing canals when the black procession arrived. Unlike usual ones, they did not make any noise. Instead these came in a long line of dead consorts wearing tattered court apparel. They walked in pairs amongst ash and damp stone. Their faces were stunning with age-old sorrow. In the centre of the group floated the lead wraith, wrapped in a veil of widow law, with an empty consort crown resting upon a pillow of black glass.
Hades felt a presence.
His arms glowed with green flame. "They're here."
Sable's head snapped up. "Your death-mark is loud in this Basin. Something old just answered it."
Athena was already moving them away from the field. "We do not stand in a procession road. Side terraces. Now."
