Zevs POV
She’s walking toward us now.
Alyssa.
Her hair is braided back in that neat, Moonborn way—tightly woven, almost regal.
It pulls her face back, shows the sharp edges of her cheekbones, the quiet strength in her jaw. Her expression is calm.
Too calm.
She almost looks peaceful, like this isn’t a death march. Like she’s already accepted whatever fate we’re marching her toward.
But I can see the tension in her shoulders. The way her hands twitch at her sides. She won’t look at me. Not even once.
And gods, I deserve that.
She passes through the middle of the soldiers.
They part just enough to let her through.
The silence around her is thick, watchful. Everyone's pretending not to judge her, but we all know they are. Whispering in their heads.
And still, she doesn’t look
