I spent months training in silence.
The air in the training grounds grew still around me as I moved, my focus absolute. I no longer focused solely on the spear. I studied the sword's precise arcs, the dagger's lethal intimacy, the axe's brutal commitment, the hammer's crushing finality. Not to master them, but to understand their souls. I learned their stances, their flow, their inherent weakness. I wanted to know how to counter them, to strip away the pride of any wielder and reveal the fatal openings behind their strength.
By the end of it, my body moved like water, an extension of thought rather than muscle. My hands knew how to kill in a dozen ways without a single spark of divinity.
When I entered the meeting hall, Hecate was waiting, her silhouette framed against the map of the realms. Her arms were crossed, and her eyes, usually alight with cunning, were deeply focused.
"Our next target is Noctandrath," she said. "Very little is known about him—only that he's a floating giant eyeball that wanders the far northwest valleys. There are whispers that he once held the strength to face Cardinal Titans. We don't know his full power…" she trailed off, her finger tracing a desolate region on the map. "But we know one thing: he's a great variable. Which means he must be eliminated."
I nodded, the decision settling into my bones. My form already began to shift, dark feathers erupting from my skin as I transformed into the Black Phoenix. Hecate mounted my back, her grip firm, and together we soared into the swirling, bitter winds of the far northwest.
I dove into deep valleys, barren lands where the air itself churned with primordial darkness. Shadows clung to the jagged cliffs like thick cobwebs, and in the narrow caves below, pairs of crimson eyes blinked open—demonic creatures that glared from the profound shadows. Wailing ghosts wove through the canyons, their sorrowful cries a tangible force that clawed at the soul.
Whenever I stared into the shadows, my divine presence pressing outward, the creatures shrank back, hissing as they retreated deeper into the safety of the ravines.
To locate our elusive prey, I invoked my Secret Divinity. The world sharpened into a web of hidden connections and silent truths. The moment I sensed his presence, I accelerated toward his position without hesitation.
We found him hovering over a half-decayed behemoth of a corpse. Noctandrath was a grotesque, floating eyeball the size of a small tower, its gelatinous surface pulsing with a sickly inner light. A thousand twitching tentacles, each ending in a needle-like point, latched onto the corpse, slowly absorbing its remaining essence like a swarm of leeches draining life itself.
But the moment he sensed us, he vanished, using teleportation to travel to another corner.
I immediately called upon my Secret Divinity again, my mind straining to trace the fading echo of his teleportation. We followed swiftly, cutting through the frigid air.
We reached him once more.
This time, I didn't speak. There were no words for such a thing. I simply inhaled and exhaled a concentrated beam of blue flame, a breath of icy fire meant to sear beyond flesh and into the very core of the soul.
And again, he was gone before the flame connected.
The chase became a maddening cycle. Over and over, I tracked him with my divinity, a relentless hunter. Over and over, he slipped through reality's grasp, always a moment ahead. Finally, with a tear in the world that sounded like screaming fabric, he escaped into another dimension entirely.
Drained, both mentally and spiritually from the relentless pursuit, we found a nearby cave to rest. The silence within was heavy, broken only by the distant echo of dripping water.
We rested for a while in the cold, dark stillness.
Suddenly, a flash of light engulfed us.
It happened suddenly—no warning, no sound. Just a piercing beam of pure perception that swallowed my consciousness whole.
---
I opened my eyes… and I was on my throne.
A profound weight settled on my head. A black, ancient, and cold crown rested upon it, the symbol of a kingship that felt suddenly like a chain. Around me, the vast halls of the Underworld stretched into emptiness.
They were terrifyingly empty.
Neither Hecate nor any shifting shadows of souls were present.
Only a silence so deep it felt like a physical pressure on my eardrums.
Confusion, thick and disorienting, clouded my thoughts. I stood and left the palace, my footsteps echoing through the grand, deserted halls. I ascended to the mortal world, the transition feeling unnaturally seamless.
I walked through empty cities, desolate valleys, and silent deserts. Then… I saw her.
A woman flew quietly under the pale moonlight, holding a warm, glowing lamp that cast a gentle halo around her. Blonde hair. A kind, nurturing aura that felt like a forgotten dream.
Hestia.
"Sister!" I called out, my voice too loud in the immense silence. I flew toward her, a desperate hope blooming in my chest.
She turned—and she screamed loudly.
It was a raw, primal sound of absolute terror, as if she had seen death itself given form.
"A MONSTER! A DEMON! ZEUS!! HELP ME!!"
She fled toward Othrys, her cries shredding the silent air, leaving a trail of palpable fear behind her.
Before I could even process her reaction, the sky split apart. A spear of pure lightning, smelling of ozone and fury, tore through the clouds and struck me squarely in the chest. The impact threw me backward, my body convulsing with raw, stunning pain. I gasped, the wind knocked from my lungs.
I looked up. And there he was.
Zeus, standing tall amidst the gathering storm clouds, his eyes blazing with righteous anger.
"You monster!" he roared, his voice the crash of thunder. "How dare you harass my sister?!"
I was frozen, not by his power, but by the sheer, unbelievable wrongness of it all.
"What are you saying?" I managed to choke out, pushing myself up. "I'm Hades! I'm your brother!"
But the Titans and gods began to appear one by one. Poseidon, with a trident dripping with seawater; Metis, her eyes sharp with calculation; Prometheus, looking on with grim resignation; Themis, holding her scales; Demeter, Hera, and a host of other gods. And in all their eyes, I saw the same thing: not recognition, but pure, unadulterated revulsion. They saw only a beast.
"He lies!" a voice shouted.
"Look at him! That's not a god, that's a curse!" another yelled.
"End him now!"
I reached out with my divine perception, my Secret Divinity screaming to uncover the truth behind this nightmare. But all I felt pressing back against my senses was a solid wall of emotion—disgust, fear, hate, a sinful joy at my torment. No truth. Only feeling.
And then Hestia looked back at me, her face, once kind, now twisted into a mask of revulsion.
"Brother?" she spat the word like venom. "How can a monster like you be my brother? Is this your new trick?"
The sky cracked open. Their combined attacks rained down upon me—lightning, ice, primordial force. I fought back, my own power rising in a desperate defence, but their combined might was a crushing tide, overwhelming and absolute.
Then came the blade.
Not from the front, where I stood against the storm.
But from the back.
A point of exquisite, cold steel punched through my spine. The pain was shocking, a violation far greater than all other injuries.
I turned, my body screaming in protest… and my entire soul shattered.
Rhea.
My mother.
Her expression was one of radiant joy, a smile of pure, unadulterated triumph, as if she had accomplished something glorious she had waited a lifetime for.
"Finally…" she whispered, her voice sweet and terrible. "I have waited for this moment too long. You should have never been born."
She pulled the sword from my back without a hint of hesitation, raising it high for the final, killing blow.
And in that instant, with the last dregs of my strength, I rejected this reality. I teleported myself back to the only place that had ever been mine.
I collapsed into my throne, bleeding, gasping, my soul fractured. My blood, dark and divine, pooled on the stone beneath me.
All around me, the palace pulsed with a strange, malevolent presence. A sentient shadow in the corners of my vision, a feeling of something watching, waiting, savouring my agony.
Then came the voices. They were not heard, but felt, arising from the cold stone beneath me and the bleeding wound in my spirit.
Why do you hold back…?
Why do you still cling to hope…?
They call you a monster.
They stab you in the back.
Even your mother.
Her joy was real. You felt it.
They will never accept you.
The whispers were soft, logical, and utterly venomous. They coiled around my mind, not as an attack, but as a confirmation of my deepest, most hidden fears. And deep down, in the shattered core of me, I found I agreed. There was no longer any room for denial.
"Yes…" I muttered, the words a bloody rasp against my teeth. "They betrayed me. They tried to kill me."
The voices rose in a unified, dark symphony, resonant and furious.
Then show them what a true monster is.