Atlas storms into the palace of Cronus atop Mount Othrys, his footsteps echoing like thunder through the silent halls. He marches directly to the innermost throne room. He bows respectfully to the empty, grand throne before turning to the others.
His fierce gaze sweeps over the assembled cardinal Titans and settles on Pallas, the strategist. 'Prometheus is not present,' he notes, a knot of unease tightening in his stomach. 'In such situations, he always arrives first. Something is wrong.'
He claps his massive hands, the sound cracking through the air to get their attention. "I have grave news. The Underworld has fallen. It is now the domain of a god who calls himself Hades and he claims to be the eldest son of Lord Cronus."
Koios steps forward, his face grim. "The claim is true. After the supernatural fog that hid the truth dissipated, our scouts confirmed it. Lord Cronus did not six children, and they all live."
Iapetus clenches his jaw. "A powerful magic, likely spun by Nyx herself, blinded us all. But the veil has lifted. The evidence is now plain for all to see."
Pallas, ever the tactician, interjects. "The greater threat is the consolidation. Several minor Titans and human emperors have already pledged themselves to them. The scent of rebellion is thick in the air."
"Those cowards! Traitors!" Atlas's roar shakes the hall, his aura flaring out in a wave of heat that forces the others to brace themselves. "After all Lord Cronus has done for them!"
CREAK
The giant doors of the throne hall swing open. All noise dies instantly, suffocated by an immense, crushing pressure. A Titan with a muscular frame and white hair, bathed in fresh blood and holding a massive scythe, strides toward the throne.
Every Titan in the room drops to their knees. "Greetings, Lord Cronus!"
His fierce red eyes scan them. "Where is Prometheus?" Cronus's voice is low, but it rings with deadly authority.
Iapetus shuffles forward on his knees, head bowed. "Please punish me, my lord! My own blood... my son... has dared to raise his sword against you."
Cronus's aura erupts, a visible shroud of rage that makes the very stone of the palace groan. "Iapetus, stand! The punishment will not be for you, but for him!" He leans forward, his voice a venomous whisper. "Tell me. For what reason does he choose betrayal?"
Iapetus gulps, his body trembling. "My lord… your children… they are alive. They gather an army, and Prometheus… he fights with them. He speaks of an Oracle… he says your fall is inevitable."
STOMP
Cronus's foot crashes down. The ground fractures, and a deep tremor runs through the entire mountain. "TRAITORS! I WILL CUT THEM TO PIECES!"
He rises from his throne, taking one furious step before a wave of nausea visibly hits him. He stumbles, catching himself on the arm of the throne. "My lord!" the Titans cry, rushing forward.
He raises a hand, halting them. He clutches his head in agony. 'Argh… Damn this curse!' He straightens, his voice a strained command. "I give you one month. Bring me every rebel in chains and throw them into Tartarus!"
Teleport!
Cronus vanishes. A collective, shaky breath passes through the Titans as they rise.
Pallas looks around, bewildered. "What was that? Was it that strange creature he hunted?"
Krios answers, his face grave. "No. It was the curse."
"A curse?" Atlas is shocked. "What curse could affect Lord Cronus?"
Koios nods grimly. "Yes, a curse from a broken oath. It forces him into a deep slumber for one month of every century. One month is nothing, but the curse always strikes at the most critical possible moment."
"What oath did he break?" Pallas asks.
Iapetus answers, his voice heavy with shame. "When he became king, he swore to Mother Gaea that he would free the Hecatoncheires and the Cyclopes. For reasons he never shared, he broke that vow and imprisoned them in a deeper, darker cell instead."
---
At the center of the Underworld, before their thrones, Hades and Hecate stand side-by-side, looking out at the nascent realm.
"Are you ready?" Hades asks, his voice calm.
"Ready," Hecate answers, her confidence unwavering.
He offers his hand. "Hold on. This is a delicate process. Our timing and energy must be perfectly synchronized." She takes his hand. A shimmering, illusory red thread materializes, binding their wrists together. "The soul bond is active."
In unison, they each take a vial of the mysterious potion and drink. As the liquid slides down their throats, it fractures into microscopic particles of raw power, merging with their blood. Their veins bulge and glow beneath their skin. Their auras erupt—Hades's a storm of chaotic black haze, Hecate's a blinding, splitting silver light. For a moment, the energy threatens to overwhelm them, but through sheer will, they wrestle it under control.
'Twilight Flame!' 'Silver Flame!'
They summon their ultimate powers into their free hands. When they bring the two orbs of energy together, they do not merge. They repel each other violently, flickering and straining like opposite poles of a magnet.
"Fusion!" Hades commands.
The flames surrender to their combined will, swirling into a violent, beautiful dance before collapsing inward. The result is the Abyssal Flame: a swirling vortex of violet and azure, rising like living smoke. Its ethereal tendrils glow with an inner light that feels both destructive and sacred.
"This is Abyssal Flame," Hades states. "An energy one step away from the primordial."
Hecate watches the unstable power warily. "Why do I feel like we are repeating history?"
"Because we are. Drexnor and Eros meddled with primordial energy. Now, we meddle with this. But we have no other choice." He meets her gaze. "We can discuss the irony later. For now, we finish this. We have little time."
Together, they thrust the Abyssal Flame into the ground.
The entire Underworld realm shudders. Giant fissures rip across the landscape, their impossible depths glowing with an ethereal light. The fissures race outward, targeting the colossal pillars and mountain roots that physically tether the Underworld to the Earth realm.
CRACK! BOOOOM!
The connections shatter. But the destruction does not stop. The very ground of the Underworld begins to dissolve into origin. Into the primordial energy. Archdemons, monsters, and spirits who moments before stood on solid ground now float, terrified, in a sudden, soundless void.
A legion of archdemons scramble over each other, their roars turning to shrieks. A hydra tumbles end over end, its heads snapping in panic. It is a symphony of impending doom.
The Abyssal Flame expands, not to burn, but to unmake. It consumes the dissolving land, pulling all the disparate energy—rock, soul, shadow, and light—into a single, giant, swirling sphere. The sphere then constricts, compressing the entirety of their old realm into a tiny, impossibly dense orb of Abyssal Flame.
Hades and Hecate, floating beside it, place their hands upon the sphere, pouring their divine essence into it.
"Reborn."
The sphere pulses once, then explodes in a silent, blinding shockwave of light. When the brilliance fades, a single, perfect, purple star hangs where the sphere once,
Hecate glances at Hades. "Is it…?"
He nods."The true core."
They again pour their energy into the star.
"Creation: Underworld Realm!"
The core pulses with a deep, purple radiance. It begins to shape itself, first forming two giant thrones. Then, the ground spreads out from them, black and fertile. The central temple reforms, stone stacking upon stone, grander than before.
Hecate takes out a shimmering silver essence. Her moon divinity and offers it to the newborn sky. "Creation: Solar Body!"
A new, soft light blooms in the twilight expanse above.
Hades immediately glares upward, sensing intrusion. "Lady Nyx!"
In an instant, Nyx responds. Her darkness flows like a tide, enveloping the entire Underworld and the space around it in a protective veil, hiding the rebirth from the spying eyes of the Titans.
From a distance, Ananke watches. "I cannot let you interfere." She waves a hand, her power stabilizing the newborn realm's position in the cosmos and adding another, invisible layer of protection. Her promise is kept.