[Quetzalcoatl Image]
The Ambrosia Garden nestled between two towering marble buildings, hidden from mortal eyes by a veil of divine magic. Quetzalcoatl stretched her long legs under the table, letting her feathered headdress catch the gentle breeze. This weekly ritual with Athena and Demeter brought her comfort—though she'd never admit how much she needed it.
"More wine?" Demeter tilted the crystal decanter toward Quetzalcoatl's half-empty glass.
"Sí, por favor." Quetzalcoatl pushed her glass forward, watching the ruby liquid swirl inside. "These pastries are perfect as always, Demeter."
Sunlight filtered through the garden's ancient olive trees, casting dappled patterns across their private alcove. A fountain bubbled nearby, its sound mingling with distant conversations of other gods enjoying their own moments of peace. The air smelled of honeysuckle and fresh-baked bread—a sanctuary from the chaos of Orario below.
Athena sat with perfect posture, her storm-gray eyes scanning a small leather-bound book while occasionally sipping her tea. Her brown hair was bound in a severe braid that hung over one shoulder, not a single strand out of place.
Demeter hummed softly as she arranged another platter of pastries, her golden-wheat hair cascading in waves down her back. Her amber eyes crinkled with maternal pleasure whenever either of her friends took a bite of her baking.
"¡Dos años!" Quetzalcoatl sighed dramatically, slumping in her chair. "Two years, and my nest is still empty. I am starting to think I am cursed to be this picky forever."
She stared into her wine, seeing not the rich color but the faces of the six children she'd lost. Two years had passed since the Juggernaut incident took everything from her. Two years of emptiness, of walking past her Familia's manor and feeling nothing but cold hallways and colder memories.
Demeter reached across the table, her warm hand covering Quetzalcoatl's. "Oh, darling, you're not cursed, you're just being far too selective." Her voice wrapped around Quetzalcoatl like a soft blanket. "You've turned away seventeen potential children in the past month alone."
"Seventeen unworthy potential children," Quetzalcoatl corrected, turning her hand to squeeze Demeter's fingers. "I cannot settle for less than what I had before."
Athena closed her book with a soft snap.
[Athena Image]
"Your selection process is inefficient. It lacks quantifiable metrics." She placed the book beside her plate, aligning it perfectly with the edge of the table. "You're operating purely on instinct, which introduces unnecessary variables and delays."
Quetzalcoatl rolled her eyes. Trust Athena to reduce something as sacred as choosing family to a mathematical equation.
"Not everything can be solved with a list, wise one," Quetzalcoatl said, reaching for a honey-glazed pastry. "Some things must be felt here." She thumped her chest.
"Even little Hestia found someone!" Demeter cut another slice of apple tart, placing it on Athena's plate despite the goddess's protest. "If Hestia can find a child, surely you can lower your standards a tiny bit."
"Bell Cranel," Athena supplied, spearing a piece of tart with her fork. "Fourteen years old. No combat experience. Physical capabilities below average for his age. By all objective measures, an unremarkable candidate."
"Yet Hestia chose him," Demeter nodded. "Sometimes the heart knows what the mind cannot measure."
Athena set down her teacup, her gray eyes sharpening. "What you need is a rubric. A standardized scoring system to evaluate potential candidates based on observable traits: physical conditioning, tactical awareness, emotional stability..." She counted each trait on her slender fingers. "Your reliance on 'intuition' is statistically unreliable."
The suggestion sent a flash of heat through Quetzalcoatl's blood. She straightened, her feathers rustling with indignation.
"No!" Her voice rose, drawing glances from nearby tables. "I cannot measure a soul with a ruler, Athena! I need to feel it. I need to feel that fuego—that fire inside them. A passion for life, for the fight!" She spread her hands, grasping at the air as if trying to capture something invisible. "No one I have met has that fire. They are all just... embers."
Athena's eyebrow rose a fraction of a centimeter—for her, the equivalent of an eye roll.
"Fire is measurable," she noted. "Temperature. Intensity. Fuel consumption rate."
"Stop turning my metaphors into science problems!"
Demeter sighed, taking a sip of wine. Her amber eyes held centuries of wisdom and just a hint of amusement.
"I understand, dear, but be realistic." She brushed a crumb from the tablecloth. "It's not like you're going to find some legendary hero with a soul of pure fire just... waltzing into Orario and arguing on a street corner."
"I don't care if they have the best wine in the city!" A female voice, high and frustrated, cut through the peaceful garden atmosphere. "The whole Soma Familia felt... wrong! The way they all looked so desperate... It was a cult, not a family! We're wasting our time!"
"It was an informative data point." A male voice replied, punctuated by an audible yawn. "Now we know what a dysfunctional operation looks like. Let's head back to the inn and brainstorm."
Demeter chuckled softly. "Ah, the passion of mortals. Always so urgent about everything."
Athena's lips curved in the ghost of a smile. "Their assessment of Soma Familia is surprisingly accurate."
But Quetzalcoatl didn't hear them. The moment the male voice had reached her ears, something inside her had gone still. Her wine glass froze halfway to her lips, her body tensed like a jungle cat catching a scent.
She turned slowly toward the garden wall, looking down at the street below. Two figures stood there—a Hume Bunny girl with black hair and crimson eyes gesturing wildly, and a young man with stark white hair. Even from this distance, Quetzalcoatl could see his mismatched eyes—one grey, one green—gleaming with barely contained energy.
But Quetzalcoatl saw beyond their physical forms. As a goddess of life, she perceived the essence of souls. The bunny girl burned bright—a strong flame, determined and fierce. Beautiful, in her own way.
But the boy...
Quetzalcoatl's breath caught. His soul wasn't a flame. It was a raging blue inferno. A collapsing star. A fire so hot and primal it transcended normal understanding. It burned with ambition, with hunger, with a ferocity that made her divine heart skip a beat. In all her thousands of years, she had never seen a mortal soul burn with such intensity.
It was the fire she had been searching for her entire existence.
"Quetzalcoatl?" Demeter's voice sounded distant. "Are you alright? You've gone pale."
Athena followed her gaze to the street. "Do you know those two?"
Quetzalcoatl didn't answer. Couldn't answer. Her lips parted slightly, her emerald eyes wide with shock.
"That's him," she whispered, more to herself than to her friends. "That's the one."
Down on the street, the white-haired young man yawned again, stretching his arms above his head. The motion was casual, careless—completely at odds with the inferno raging within him.
"—the fourth rejection today." The bunny girl's voice drifted up again. "At this rate, we'll never find a Familia."
"Patience, bunny girl." The young man's tone held a lazy confidence that made Quetzalcoatl's lips curl into an involuntary smile. "Quality takes time to find. We've still got Hermes and Quetzalcoatl to try tomorrow. Though I've heard the latter hasn't accepted anyone in years. Probably some washed-up has-been."
"¿Qué?" Quetzalcoatl nearly choked.
Demeter stifled a laugh behind her hand. "Oh my."
Athena's eyes gleamed with rare amusement. "An interesting first impression."
"Washed-up has-been," Quetzalcoatl repeated, a dangerous edge entering her voice. "¡Qué atrevido! What nerve!"
She stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the stone floor. The movement sent her untouched wine splashing onto the tablecloth.
"Quetzalcoatl," Athena warned, recognizing the look in her friend's eyes. "Whatever you're planning—"
"I must go," Quetzalcoatl announced, already moving toward the garden exit. Her long strides carried her with a hunter's purpose. "That insolent chico just insulted me on my own street."
Demeter rose in alarm. "What are you going to do?"
Quetzalcoatl paused at the garden gate, looking back over her shoulder. Her emerald eyes glowed with an intensity that had been absent for two long years. Her lips curved into a smile that was equal parts joy and menace.
"I'm going to test his fire."
With that, she was gone, her rapid footsteps echoing down the garden path toward the street.
Demeter slowly sat back down, exchanging a look with Athena.
"Should we stop her?" Demeter asked.
Athena picked up her tea, taking a measured sip before answering. "I calculate a 97.3% probability that any intervention would only escalate the situation." She glanced toward the garden gate where Quetzalcoatl had disappeared. "Besides, I haven't seen that look in her eyes since before the expedition."
"That poor boy," Demeter sighed, though a smile played at her lips. "He has no idea what's coming for him."
Down on the street, Rome Valentine and Rumi continued their argument, completely unaware of the divine hurricane headed straight for them.
Rome's hand moved in a dismissive gesture. "Look, we've got two more Familias to try. If they don't work out, we'll—"
A shadow fell across them as a tall figure landed with impossible grace on the cobblestones before them. Feathers of brilliant orange and green shimmered in the sunlight. Bronze skin gleamed like polished metal. Emerald eyes fixed on Rome with predatory focus.
"¡Hola, chico!" Quetzalcoatl's voice rang with challenge and delight. "I hear you think I'm a washed-up has-been."
Rome's mismatched eyes widened in shock. Rumi stumbled back, ears flattening against her head in recognition and fear.
"That's—" Rumi whispered. "That's Quetzalcoatl."
"Well…" Rome recovered quickly, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Are you?"
Quetzalcoatl planted her hands on her hips.
"¿Estás listo?" she asked, the challenging question delivered with a fierce grin.
Rome tilted his head. "I have no idea what that means."
"It means," Quetzalcoatl leaned forward, bringing her face close to his, "are you ready?"
A crowd began to gather around them, adventurers and civilians alike drawn to the spectacle of a goddess confronting two unknown newcomers in the middle of the street.
Rome didn't back away. If anything, he leaned closer, that blue inferno in his soul flaring brighter.
"Ready for what exactly?"
Quetzalcoatl's laughter rang out, bright and wild. For the first time in two years, she felt truly alive.
"To prove you're not just hot air and pretty eyes, chico." She straightened, addressing the gathering crowd. "Everyone! Clear the street! This boy thinks Quetzalcoatl is a washed-up has-been!"
Gasps and murmurs rippled through the onlookers. Rumi tugged desperately at Rome's sleeve.
"What did you do?" she hissed.
Rome never took his eyes off the goddess. "Apparently, I just got us an audience with the fifth Familia on our list."
"You got us a death sentence!"
Quetzalcoatl's emerald eyes gleamed with anticipation. The blue fire she'd seen in this mortal's soul called to something primal within her, something that had been dormant since she lost her children.
"So, chico," she rolled her shoulders, her voice dropping to a challenge.
"Show me what you've got!"