The meeting had begun with good intentions, but like most of our strategic discussions, it had quickly devolved into a cacophony of voices and overlapping arguments. The makeshift war room—just a half-cleared cavern in the heart of the mountain—was warm with divinity and tension.
"We could tunnel through the volcanic vents in the south!" Cael thundered, slamming a fist against the stone table. "The magma channels still connect to the chthonic arteries. Tartarus isn't unreachable, just sealed off because of Cronus!"
"That's assuming you want to burn to ash before reaching the threshold," Selene countered coolly. "Even your storms can't survive that kind of pressure."
"Then what do you suggest?" Cael growled, standing.
"Perhaps," Helios interrupted, voice like polished gold, "instead of burning ourselves alive or arguing in circles, we find someone with authority over Tartarus."
Which brought us back to where we started: no one really had it. Not anymore.
I leaned back in my seat, one foot propped against the table. I let my siblings and the Titans bicker while I drifted into thought, tracing invisible sigils on my thigh. There were far more interesting questions swirling in my head.
Divinity, as Mother had taught us, was not infinite. It was a living thing—rooted, shaped, and bound to domains. If a god had no land, no people, no concept to embody… they faded. Slowly, but surely.
The world had changed drastically after Ouranos was overthrown. Without the Sky Incarnate, the cosmic balance needed correction. Our uncles—Coeus, Hyperion, Iapetus, and Crius—had taken up the role of Pillars, each anchoring one of the four corners of the terrestrial plane.
Now, don't panic when I say this, but the world isn't round. Not for us. Not in the way mortals imagine it. You could say it's flat, but even that misses the point. It's more... layered.
Think of the realms in the North myth's, well I think they are also real now? Anyway unlike them, we do not have a World Tree that connects all our realms. Instead everything is more like a cake and connected in that way.
Each realm vibrated at its own frequency, its own spiritual density. The Sky, Earth, Sea, and Abyss—those are the fundamental strata. Each one exists because of a Primordial being who acts as its Incarnate.
Ouranos, Gaea, Pontus, and Tartarus are four of the main Primordial bodies that exist, if any of them were to fade then their realm would collapse in several centuries.
Which makes entry into Tartarus a bit of a problem. Because father was forcefully closed every single entrance that existed.
You may be asking, 'what about the underworld?' Well it is actually still part of the Abyss, less than 10% of the original realm that Zeus and Poseidon would try to get Hades to take during the divide. Though, I am not going to settle for it since I do already have dominion over that land. My sights are not even on the Abyss, I want to take the Earth.
I wasn't really into the gloomy and dark stuff so I would need to rebuild it into something more grand… maybe I could take inspiration from other cultures?
The irritated clearing of my throat snapped me back to the present. I blinked, turning to see Hera glaring at me with that infuriating look.
"What?" I said flatly.
Zeus was already halfway out of his seat, arms crossed and crackling faintly with static. "We've been going in circles, and you're daydreaming. Again. Any bright ideas, oh brooding one?"
The sarcasm barely veiled his frustration. Typical.
I drummed my fingers against the bone pommel of my dagger. "Actually, yes. Why don't we ask Grandmother?"
The room stilled. Even Cael quieted, his lip curling in something between interest and apprehension.
"You mean Gaea?" Demeter asked.
"You think she'll help us?" Poseidon asked, arms folded across his chest.
"I believe that she will," I said. "She knows Cronus is out of control. And knows what needs to be done."
Zeus rolled his shoulders and stood. "Fine. I'll talk to her."
I arched my brow. "Really? You? Are you sure that you can convince her?"
He smirked, already heading toward the exit. "She'll listen to me. After all, I'm Zeus!"
☼
The silence after Zeus left was awkward and heavy. No one really knew what to say. We just sat there, waiting... and waiting. One hour turned into two. By the third, we were all glancing at each other with growing concern. I was just about to speak up when—
A scream ripped through the stillness.
We jumped to our feet, and not a moment later, Zeus came sprinting back into the cave, looking like he'd just escaped a natural disaster. His face was flushed, tunic slightly torn, hair a mess.
Then a rock—yes, an actual rock—came sailing in right behind him and smacked him square in the back of the head.
He stumbled forward with a grunt, clutching the spot and muttering curses under his breath.
"What the Hades happened to you?" Hestia asked, clearly fighting the urge to laugh.
"She threw me out," Zeus growled. "Didn't even let me finish a sentence. First thing she did was hit me with a rock, and then the rock came next."
Poseidon snorted and doubled over in laughter. "You stormed up to the Mother of Earth and expected her to take orders? Yeah, that checks out."
Zeus muttered something that sounded like "unreasonable" and sank onto a stone bench, sulking.
While the others bickered and traded jabs, I slipped away quietly.
The forest beyond the cave was calm, the air thick with the scent of moss and blooming flowers. I walked for a while, letting the sound of birds and the crunch of twigs underfoot center me. Eventually, I reached a quiet grove, half-lit by sunlight breaking through the leaves. I knelt on the soft dirt, closed my eyes, and took a steadying breath.
"Grandmother," I said softly. "I don't know if you're listening... but we could really use your help. Please."
Silence. Then—movement. Leaves rustled, but not randomly. Something—or someone—was coming.
When I opened my eyes, there she was.
Gaia.
She looked just as I remembered her: skin dark like fertile soil, glowing from within; dreadlocks laced with white strands, flowers, vines, and leaves; a chiton woven from living plants that swayed with a will of their own. Her eyes met mine—ancient, sharp, and knowing.
"Hello again, Aidoneus," she said, arms crossed, her tone both amused and stern. "You've grown well. I see you still remember the way."
I stood up slowly, brushing the dirt from my knees. "It's good to see you too, Grandmother. Sorry about Zeus. He's... well, he's very much like Father."
Her lips quivered slightly. "And his father before him. That one charges into everything with the grace of a boulder."
I bowed my head in respect. "I didn't come to command. I came to ask. We need a way into Tartarus. We want to free the Cyclopes and Hecatonchires. Mother told us they can help us forge weapons for the war."
Her expression darkened instantly. "You mean the same Cyclopes your father promised to free—then sealed away again after they built his throne?"
"Yes," I said carefully. "But I'm not him. I swear—I'll free them. I'll give them homes, lives, freedom. They'll never be caged again."
Her eyes narrowed.
"I swear it," I said. "On the River Styx."
The moment the words left my mouth, thunder cracked in the distance.
Gaia's gaze snapped to me, sharp as flint. "What did you just swear on?"
"The Styx," I repeated, blinking. "It's the only thing I could think of that actually mattered."
She exhaled sharply, eyes narrowed but no longer hostile. "You do realize what you've done? That's a binding oath. You break it, you'll suffer—badly."
"I know," I said, my voice steady. "But I mean it."
There was a long pause. Then she sighed, shaking her head in that disappointed-but-somehow-proud way only a grandmother can.
"Very well. I'll open a path to Tartarus for you," she said finally. "You're still young, but you're interested in me. I'd like to see if you survive the storm that's coming."
She turned to leave, then paused. "The entrance will remain open for two weeks. After that, it closes—and I won't open it again."
Before I could thank her, she vanished into the trees, the smell of fresh earth and blooming flowers lingering in her wake.
I stayed there a moment longer, letting the silence settle again before turning around and heading back toward the cave—quietly grateful that, for now, she still believed in me.
When I stepped back into the cave, everyone looked up like I'd just crawled out of the Underworld itself. Zeus narrowed his eyes.
"Where the hell did you go?"
I ignored him and looked around at the rest of them. "Grandmother's agreed to help. She's opening a path to Tartarus. We've got two weeks."
They blinked.
Poseidon raised an eyebrow. "Wait, seriously? Just like that?"
"You'd be surprised how far a little respect can get you," I said, already heading back toward the clearing. "Come on, let's move."
The entrance wasn't far. We returned to the spot I'd met Gaia—only now there was a gaping hole in the earth, the edges cracked and pulsing faintly with divine energy. The shadows inside seemed to swallow light whole. It wasn't just a hole; it was a gateway.
We all gathered around it, peering down into the abyss. The air shifted, colder than before, like even the wind didn't want to be near this place.
Hera leaned over the edge, squinting. "It just keeps going…"
"I think we should just transform and fly down," Hestia murmured. "No way we're climbing."
We all nodded in agreement, but no one actually made a move. We just stood there in a slightly awkward silence, waiting for someone else to go first.
"Well," Poseidon said finally, stretching like he was about to dive into a pool. "Guess I'll take the plunge."
He stepped forward, a glow rippling over him as his body shifted, feathers sprouting in place of skin. But when he was done, we all just kind of… stared.
"What the hell is that?" Hera asked, incredulous.
Poseidon fluffed his feathers proudly. "A Dodo bird. I saw a group of them wandering the forest last year."
I squinted. "Pretty sure those can't fly."
He flapped his stubby wings. "Nonsense! Wings are wings. Watch and learn."
And with that, he launched himself into the abyss.
For maybe two seconds, he actually looked confident—like this might work. Then gravity kicked in. Hard.
He dropped like a rock, flailing midair. "I'M FLYING! I—NOPE—OH NO—NO NO NO!"
His voice echoed up from the depths as the rest of us doubled over laughing. I think Zeus was crying from laughing so hard.
"I can't believe he thought that would work," Hera wheezed.
Hestia wiped her eyes. "Should we go after him?"
"Yeah, yeah, I've got it," I said, still chuckling. I let my divinity rise, feathers rippling across my skin as I took the shape of a massive raven. My wings stretched wide, and with one strong beat, I launched into the air and dove into the pit.
It didn't take long to spot him—flailing, spinning, and still screaming like a toddler in freefall.
"HADES! HELP! I REGRET EVERYTHING!"
I reached him just in time, snatching him out of the air with my claws. He flopped helplessly in my grip as I glided the rest of the way down and landed smoothly on the rocky floor below.
I dropped him without ceremony, and he hit the ground with a loud grunt. A second later, he returned to his normal form and just lay there, panting like he'd run a marathon.
"That... was terrifying," he gasped, pointing weakly at me. "Okay. Fine. Dodos are not airworthy."
I shifted back too, brushing off my cloak. "You should make it your domain. God of Dodos. Has a ring to it."
"Shut up, Hades," he muttered, laughing anyway as he pushed himself up.
I smirked and helped him to his feet. "Come on. The others are waiting."
Tartarus felt less like a place and more like a punishment. The air was thick with smoke and ash, burning hot and heavy in my lungs. Lava waterfalls poured from cliffs that made no sense, crashing into bubbling lakes with hissing steam clouds that reeked of sulfur and decay. The ground was a patchwork of razor-grass, corpse-like trees with skeletal limbs, and fire sunflowers that actually tracked us as we passed—like they were waiting for us to drop.
"This place reeks," Poseidon gagged, waving ash from his face. "Like someone boiled rotten fish in a volcano."
I shot him a look. "Could you not talk about smells right now?"
"Sorry, it's just—this whole place feels like a punishment for existing," he muttered, stepping around a patch of grass that curled away like it hated him too. "How does anything live here?"
"Well," I said, brushing a smear of ash off my arm, "our great uncle lives here. So maybe dial down the insults unless you want to get punted into a pit."
Poseidon blinked. "Wait. What uncle?"
"Tartarus," I said, glancing back at him. "Primordial of the Abyss? Ruler of this literal hellscape?"
Zeus shrugged. "Didn't pay attention. Mother's lessons were boring."
Of course.
A sudden screech split the air.
We froze. Off in the distance, something massive shifted under the blood-red sky. At first, I thought it was just a mountain—until it moved.
No, it wasn't a mountain.
It was a tortoise the size of a damn island, its shell cracked and glowing like magma. Its huge head swung out, jaws snapping clean through a winged beast that got too close. The monster's screech was cut off instantly, and then—crunch. Just bones and silence.
Poseidon whispered, "Okay. New plan. We're not going that way."
"Agreed," Demeter murmured, her eyes locked on the creature as it lumbered back into place and melted perfectly into the terrain. It was like it'd never moved at all.
"Let's move," Hera said, voice tight. "Before something worse finds us."
We kept going. The heat pressed in like a wall, every breath a fight, every step dragging like our legs had weights on them. Sulfur coated our throats. The ground cracked and shifted beneath our feet, and even the rocks looked like they hated us.
After what felt like forever, we reached the base of a huge, jagged mountain. Its dark surface shimmered faintly under the infernal light, and something about it just… felt wrong.
My feet stopped on instinct. Something pulsed here. Something old.
Chains rattled faintly.
Chained to the mountainside were three figures—tall, bone-thin, and barely alive. Their limbs were too long, their chests sunken, and their single glowing eyes dull with age and torment. Their skin was pale and stretched like old paper, and living black chains curled around them like snakes, biting into flesh, holding them in place.
"Only three Cyclopes?" I muttered. "Where are the Hecatoncheires?"
To the left, two more prisoners dangled. Not the hundred-handed ones—different, maybe lesser gods or monsters. But what really caught my eye was what lurked nearby.
Kampe.
I'd read about her. I knew what to expect—or thought I did. The real thing? A hundred times worse.
She had the upper body of a pale-skinned woman, long black hair spilling down her back. She was… bare, eerily unbothered. Her red eyes twitched as she paced, alert, always watching. Below the waist, though—she was all dragon: scaled black hide, huge wings folded tightly to her sides, a serpentine tail coiled around her with a twitching scorpion stinger. She carried a cleaver nearly as big as I was.
And then she moved. Quick as lightning, she grabbed a wandering bull-beast with her clawed hand, hoisted it up—and her stomach split open.
Yes. Opened.
Rows of shark-like teeth lined the cavity. She stuffed the beast in without hesitation. Her spiked tongue slithered out, licking blood off her chest as she devoured it whole.
Poseidon actually gagged. "I think I'm gonna be sick."
We ducked behind a massive boulder, our divine pressure dropping instinctively. I peeked over the edge. Kampe had curled up again, but her eyes were still watching, still alert.
"We need a plan," Hera whispered, crouching low beside me. "How the hell are we supposed to get past that thing?"
I didn't answer right away.
Because as I watched Kampe pace, I caught movement—just barely. Something small and fast darted through the shadows behind her. It was gone in an instant.
But I saw it.