The air in the cramped tunnel was damp and still, thick with the scent of earth and ancient stone. Apate led the way, the lone, bobbing flame of her lamp casting long, dancing shadows that twisted like anxious spirits. Prometheus and the small group of deities followed in a tense silence, their footsteps echoing softly. Finally, the tunnel mouth opened into a vast, echoing cavern. Before them stretched the River Styx, a ribbon of dark, impossibly still water that vanished into the abyss below the Earth realm.
"We finally reach the bottom end of the Earth realm," Apate announced, her voice hollow in the immense space.
The deities fanned out, their eyes wide with a mixture of awe and trepidation. Prometheus's gaze, however, was sharp and searching, scanning the desolate shore. "Apate," he asked, his voice low. "Where is Lord Charon?"
"He must be ferrying a boat to the Underworld." Apate walked to the water's edge, wiping a hand over a smooth, worn stone before tapping it. "You may rest here for a minute."
Prometheus nodded, turning to the weary crowd and gesturing for them to settle. Moments stretched into minutes, and the initial patience of the group began to fray. They shifted restlessly, some pacing, others grumbling in low tones about the wait and the oppressive chill.
Suddenly, a young girl pointed a trembling finger at the dense, swirling mist further down the river. "Hey! Look! Something massive is coming!"
Apate and Prometheus spun around, squinting into the gloom. A colossal shadow, darker than the surrounding darkness, was sailing smoothly up the Styx. Apate's eyes widened in disbelief. "Impossible…"
"What do you mean?" Prometheus asked, his hand instinctively moving to the hilt of his sword.
Apate's body began to tremble. "In this world… only a few things can withstand the corruptive waters of the Styx. My brother's boat is one of them. And now this…"
In a flash, Prometheus summoned his blade, falling into a battle stance. Apate mirrored him, blue orbs of fire igniting and orbiting her fists. A chorus of shings and whispers followed as the other deities drew their weapons, their faces set in grim lines.
The ship glided into full view, a terrifying marvel of obsidian wood. A carved, skeletal mermaid with gleaming green eyes served as its figurehead, and black sails fluttered in a wind that didn't touch the shore. An ominous green lamp swung from the bow. On deck, skeletons clad in black headbands waved rusted cutlasses in the air, their jawbones clacking silently.
Apate's eyes darted over the vessel, then froze at the top of the mast. A black flag bearing the official sigil of the Underworld snapped in the etheric breeze.
"Stop!" she shouted, her voice cutting through the tension. She extinguished her fireballs and stepped in front of the group, arms spread wide. "Don't attack! This is an ally!"
Prometheus narrowed his eyes. "Are you certain?"
"I am one hundred percent sure," Apate stated, pointing at the flag. "No one outside the Underworld would have the guts, or the right, to fly that flag."
Prometheus examined the emblem, his warrior's stance slowly relaxing. "Hmm… the flag is genuine." He sheathed his sword, and a wave of relief passed through the group as they lowered their weapons.
The obsidian ship anchored with a deep groan. A wooden stairway extended from its side, hitting the shore with a definitive thud.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The sound of polished, pointy shoes on wood preceded the man himself. He descended with deliberate slowness. A long, neatly trimmed black beard framed his face. He was dressed in an extravagant parody of a pirate: a black robe over lousy trousers, a wide-brimmed hat, and an almost comical amount of gold jewelry that glinted in the lamplight—rings on his fingers, hoops in his ears, chains around his neck.
Apate and Prometheus stared, utterly bewildered. Her eyes traveled from his pointed shoes to the ridiculous hat. She finally found her voice. "...BROTHER?!"
A slight, proud smile touched Charon's lips as he savored their reaction. He struck a pose, flexing a ring-laden hand.
"Brother, what is all this?" Apate gestured wildly at the ship and then his outfit. "And what in the name of the abyss are you wearing?"
Charon stroked his beard. "Sister, meet my Black Pearl," he said, turning to gaze lovingly at the vessel. "I requested a solution for my overwhelming workload. Lord Hades was kind enough to gift me this beauty." He then plucked at his robe. "And this? This is nothing. Just raising my standard, as befits the captain of such a ship."
Apate made a face of pure distaste but shook her head, focusing on the task. "Brother, they are guests of Lord Hades. Can you sail them to the Underworld?"
"Sure," Charon said, waving a hand laden with rings. "Board."
Prometheus nodded, and the group began to climb the stairs. Once the last deity was aboard, Charon bellowed, "Boyz! Pull up the anchor! Open the sails!"
The skeleton crew scrambled with eerie efficiency, hauling ropes and securing lines. Charon gripped the wheel, and the ship began to turn, slowly at first, then gathering speed as it sailed into the heart of the Styx.
---
The journey was deceptively smooth for the first few minutes. Then, Charon's voice roared through the air. "EVERYONE, HOLD ONTO SOMETHING TIGHTLY!"
Confusion turned to sheer terror as the calm river erupted into a maelstrom. The ship bucked and plunged, slamming against violent waves. Prometheus threw his arms around the main mast, holding on for dear life.
Charon wrestled the wheel, a wild grin splitting his face. The ship took a sharp turn, tilting to a terrifying sixty-degree angle. The deck fell away from Prometheus's feet, and he hung in the air, his arms locked around the mast.
Ahead, a ship-sized boulder blocked the path. Instead of slowing, the Black Pearl surged forward. "NOOOOOO!!!" Prometheus screamed.
"FIRE!" Charon yelled.
A skeleton touched a torch to a cannon's fuse. With a deafening WHOOSH, a massive cannonball wreathed in green soul-fire shot across the water.
BOOOM!!!
The explosion was colossal, the shockwave hitting the ship like a physical blow. Prometheus gritted his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut. The ship sailed blindly through a cloud of steam and shattered rock, and then—nothing. The path ahead was simply a void, the Styx cascading into it like a waterfall.
The Black Pearl tipped over the edge and fell, plummeting into the abyss with the river roaring around it. Prometheus, his face pressed against the mast, shouted a vow to the uncaring darkness, "I WILL NEVER BOARD THIS SHIP AGAIN!"
SPLASH!
The ship landed with a monumental crash in a small, placid pond where the Styx collected at the Underworld's boundary. The violence ceased instantly.
"Everyone, we have reached The Underworld," Charon announced, as if he'd just completed a leisurely cruise.
Prometheus pried his eyes open. The deck was empty save for the skeletons and a smirking Charon. A cold sweat trickled down his temple. "Did everyone fall?" he whispered, panic rising. Just as he was about to cry out, a cabin door opened, and the rest of the group filed out, looking perfectly composed.
A young girl looked at him, tilting her head. "Lord Prometheus, where have you been? I was looking for you in the cabin."
Prometheus stared, dumbfounded. "Cabin? When did you enter the cabin?"
"When we boarded," she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Before he could form a reply, a violent lurch in his stomach sent him stumbling to the rail.
Blurgh!
He emptied his stomach into the dark water.
The massive gates of the Underworld swung open, and the ship glided through. The newcomers gasped as one. To their right, glaciers of impossible height scraped a sky dotted with faint stars. To their left, lush meadows stretched out, where Arcadian demons peacefully plowed fields. A small boy waved cheerfully from a riverbank.
Perses mumbled, "This is the complete opposite of what I saw in the past."
The ship docked at a central port where a contingent of guards and the impeccably dressed Sebastian stood waiting.
"We have reached our destination. Everyone, disembark," Charon stated.
They filed off, Prometheus last, his face a pale green, a vile liquid still dripping from his chin.
Sebastian bowed. "Welcome, everyone, to the Underworld. I am Sebastian, head servant to Lord Hades and Lady Hectate . I will guide you to the castle. Please, make yourselves comfortable in these chariots."
A line of chariots, pulled by spectral horses, awaited them. Sebastian approached Prometheus, offering a crisp white handkerchief. "It is a pleasure to see you again, Lord Prometheus. You seem… unwell. Please, help yourself."
Prometheus took it gratefully, wiping his mouth before stumbling into a chariot.
As the last person was seated, the soldiers gave a light jolt to the sledges.
Neigh!
The spectral horses surged forward,pulling the chariots silently toward the distant, gleaming castle.
---
They were met at the castle by rows of perfectly disciplined servants and soldiers. The refugees stared, amazed by the stark, regal beauty and the absolute order. Sebastian guided them to guest rooms to recover from their journey.
"Please, take your rest here," he said.
Prometheus caught his arm. "Sebastian, when may we meet with Lord Hades?"
"Tomorrow morning," Sebastian replied. "Lord Hades and Lady Hectate will receive you then. If you require anything, do not hesitate to call a servant."
"Thank you," Prometheus said with a nod, his mind already racing with the implications of their asylum.
---
The next morning, the dim, warm light of the nether sun peeked through the grand windows. Prometheus's group and the captive Titans stood before the immense doors of the throne hall. Prometheus looked at the captives and thought, 'Zeus ordered them thrown into Tartarus… which means…' A slow, knowing smile touched his lips. 'Interesting.'
With a deep, resonant creak, the doors opened, revealing the magnificent throne hall. Dukes and significant deities stood in perfect lines on either side, with maids and butlers behind them. Guards were stationed at every pillar and corner. At the far end, upon their obsidian thrones, sat Hades and Hectate .
The assembly entered and bowed as one. "Greetings, Lord Hades! Lady Hectate !"
Hectate 's breath hitched as her eyes found her parents and siblings. A cold sweat prickled on her temples, and the edges of her vision darkened. Faint, cruel whispers from centuries past seemed to echo in the hall—"Abandoned Witch!" "Her own parents abandoned her!" " Parents may regret for giving birth to her."
Suddenly, the whispers vanished. She looked down at her hand. Hades had firmly taken it, his grip a solid, grounding pressure. She met his gaze, and he leaned in, his whisper for her alone. "Don't worry. I am with you."
Hectate nodded, drawing strength from his touch. She lifted her chin, her voice clear and authoritative. "We know the Celestial King, Zeus, has targeted all of you unjustly. That is why we, the Underworld, have decided to grant you asylum."
A murmur rippled through the court. Hades' palm cracked once against the arm of his throne. "Silence." The single word crushed the noise, imposing a heavy, absolute quiet. He glanced at Sebastian, who stepped forward, presenting a contract of black parchment.
Hades explained, "If you wish to accept asylum in the Underworld, you must sign this contract and abide by our laws. If not, you are free to go wherever you wish." His voice deepened, dropping to a chilling timbre. "But remember, after that, we hold no responsibility for your safety or your actions."
A visible line of tension ran through the group. They exchanged worried glances, weighing their options. Among them, only Judora was unnaturally calm. Instead of panicking, she was meticulously reading the contract, her sharp eyes calculating every clause.
Hades leaned toward Hectate , whispering while subtly pointing. "Wifey, is that your… sister?"
Hectate followed his gaze. "Yes. That is Judora, my youngest sister. She holds divinities of intelligence, wisdom, and greed. She also inherited Mother's astral power."
"If she has the sin of greed, she must be obsessed with something," Hades mused.
Hectate smiled wryly. "She is obsessed with materialistic things." She then pointed to a grumpy-looking man. "He is Voriathorn, my younger brother, the Starforger. He is the one who created the Titans' divine artifacts and weapons, like Axisborn and Celestra."
Hades's eyes scanned the group with newfound interest. "The more I learn about your family, the more it feels like a treasure trove. Gems everywhere."
Hectate narrowed her eyes and glared at him, whispering sharply in his ear, "If you put them to work in the mountains, I will make your life a living hell."
Hades gulped and nodded diligently, sitting up straight and remaining silent.
After a few hours of consideration, all had signed the contracts except Prometheus. Sebastian collected the parchments and presented them to Hades.
Hades then declared, "From this moment, you are counted among the deities of the Underworld. But as residents, everyone must contribute." He and Hectate began announcing assignments. "Voriathorn, the Starforger—Master Blacksmith. Perses, Titan of Destruction—Jailor of Tartarus. Asteria, Titaness of Dream and Astral Magic—Keeper of the Dreamland. Judora, Titan of Intelligence and Wisdom—Junior Judge. Tailon, Divine Spirit of Prophecy—Oracle Advisor. Ekratos, God of Scale Beasts—Guardian entrance pass. Clymene, Phoebe, Eurybia—Attendants in the Dreamland. The remaining deities and divine beasts will serve under Sebastian, Julie, and Druvak. Are there any questions?"
Judora immediately raised her hand and stepped forward. Simultaneously, Asteria, Perses, and Hectate smacked their own foreheads in a shared, familiar dread.
With a deadly serious face, Judora asked, "Is there payment for this work?"
Hades was momentarily flustered by the bluntness. "Eh?… Yes."
"How much?"
"A considerable amount."
"Give me a specific number."
Hades paused, then blurted out a random, enormous figure. "9,039,222,412 obols per month."
Judora's eyes glazed over as she performed the mental calculation. A moment later, she beamed, her smile as bright as a child's on their birthday, and stepped contentedly back into line.
"Does anyone else have any questions?" Hades asked.
The hall was silent.
Hades nodded, his expression turning grave and powerful. "THEN TODAY, I DECLARE THAT THE UNDERWORLD WILL SOON HOLD A REJUDGMENT OF THE FORMER CELESTIAL KING CRONUS AND ALL HIS ALLIES WHO PARTICIPATED IN THE TITANOMACHY!"
His thunderous voice echoed through the hall, followed by a stunned, roaring uproar. Prometheus's eyes widened, his mouth falling open. 'I conjectured the Underworld would rebel,' he thought, 'but this soon…'
Hectate stood. "Court is adjourned." As they turned to leave, Hectate stole one last, worried glance at her parents. She gritted her teeth, her fist tightening until her knuckles were white. Hades's hand found hers again, squeezing it firmly.
---
That night, the nether moon hung high, its serene azure light bathing the castle's ethereal garden. Yet, Asteria and Perses found no peace, their clasped hands and tense postures speaking of deep, shared anxiety.
From behind a pillar, Hectate watched them, her heart hammering against her ribs. She took a few steadying steps forward, only to stumble back into the shadows, her courage failing. Her body trembled as she retreated to Hades.
"I-I…can't," she stammered, biting her lower lip as she stared at the ground.
Hades didn't speak. He simply pulled her into a firm embrace. She closed her eyes, leaning into his solid strength. "Hectate ," he whispered into her hair, his voice a calm anchor. "You lived centuries with a lie. Now you know the truth. Don't escape from it—embrace it."
He held her at arm's length, his thumbs wiping the tears from her cheeks. "You are my queen. My wife. My soulmate. No matter what happens, I am with you. Now go. Empty your heart of all the remorse it has carried for centuries."
He gave her a gentle push. Her steps were wavering, but she walked toward them.
"…Mother…Father."
The two Titans turned by hearing familiar voice, their eyes widening. Hectate stood there, her composure shattered, tears like silver pearls tracing paths in the moonlight.
Asteria's heart ache, her hand flew to her mouth, her own tears overflowing. In an instant, she crossed the distance and gathered Hectate into a crushing embrace. "Oh, my child!" she cried, her voice thick with a century of longing. "You don't know how I've yearned for this!"
"Then why?!" Hectate 's voice was a raw, crying shout, all her pent-up pain bursting forth. "Why didn't you ever meet me? Why did you never praise me or even scold me? You helped from the shadows while I believed your silence was hatred! Why!?"
Perses, the mighty Titan, fell to his knees as if struck. A broken sob wracked his frame. "Forgive us," he pleaded, his voice ragged with guilt. "We were trapped, and when we returned, centuries had passed... you had grown so strong without us. We... we couldn't face what we had lost. Forgive us."
Hectate sank to her knees before him, gripping his hands firmly to stop his pleading. "Don't," she whispered, her voice softening. "Don't ask for forgiveness. Just promise me... promise you will never leave me again."
Through their tears, Asteria and Perses nodded. "We promise."
Then, they simply clung to each other, three broken pieces of a family finally fitting back together, their quiet sobs the only sound in the moonlit garden. From the shadows, Hades watched, a single, rare tear tracing a path down his own cheek. He smiled softly. "In all the realms," he murmured to himself, "there is nothing more pure and beautiful than this."