Down is up, lore is lie, and when the titans aren't busy boinkin' they're getting buzzed. It's shading weird around here.

What's really cookin' my logistical noodle is the immortals. They're dying. Not the most accurate branding, right? I've got a handful of puzzle pieces that don't fit, and a sense of doom that won't quit.

What happens when an immortal dies? I wish I knew. As the Keeper, I'm trying to hold the magical and human worlds aligned. I've got a symbiotic book, a partner, and dumb luck. The upheaval in Olympus is tinder for a witch war. My lover's a god who thinks gaming the system is fine, my bestie is a witch ready to toss the Olympians out on their butts, and I've got to save a new magical race that can't find their behinds with both hands and a flashlight.

Then the real deal showed up ready to burn the world to the ground. I'm screwed, and it's only Wednesday.