Reincarnation and Tiresias
Hades sat upon his throne, deep in thought. His dominion over the underworld was absolute, but something about it felt… incomplete. The souls of the dead simply lingered, lost in an endless cycle of stagnation. Some dissolved into nothingness, while others remained as wandering shades, unable to find purpose beyond death.
"This cannot be the way things should be," he muttered, tapping his fingers against the cold stone armrest of his throne.
A vision from deep within his soul stirred—a vision of a system that allowed souls to move forward, to be reborn anew, rather than be trapped in eternal limbo. It was something familiar, something ancient, something from a world long gone. He wanted to recreate it, to introduce the concept of reincarnation into this world.
But he could not do it alone.
With a flick of his hand, Hades opened a portal to the divine forge of Hephaestus.
---
Inside his forge, Hephaestus was busy crafting a new set of weapons, his hammer ringing against metal, sending sparks into the air like miniature stars. He barely looked up when Hades arrived.
"Didn't expect a visit from you," Hephaestus said, setting down his hammer. "What do you need, Lord of the Underworld?"
Hades stepped forward, his black robes flowing like shadows. "I want to establish reincarnation."
Hephaestus raised an eyebrow. "Reincarnation? Like sending souls back into new lives?"
Hades nodded. "Yes. The underworld has been stagnant for too long. Souls simply exist, with no purpose, no destination beyond judgment. I want to create a system that allows them to return to the world of the living under the right conditions."
Hephaestus considered the idea. Then, deep within his soul, he felt something stir. Something ancient, something powerful. A forgotten part of himself seemed to resonate with this idea, whispering to him that forging such a system would bring great benefits, not only to the world but to himself as well.
"Interesting," Hephaestus murmured. "If we do this, we are essentially creating a new divine structure—one that governs the fate of souls."
"Exactly," Hades said. "And that's why I need your craftsmanship. I can shape the laws of the underworld, but I need something to anchor them, something to make them permanent and unbreakable."
A grin spread across Hephaestus' face. "Then let's make it happen."
For days and nights, the forge of Hephaestus burned without rest. The sound of hammering echoed across the land of the gods as divine metals were shaped, inscribed with runes of fate and destiny. Hades himself infused the creation with the will of the underworld, weaving together the laws of death and rebirth.
At last, after what felt like an eternity, their masterpiece was complete.
The Plate of Reincarnation—a colossal, sacred artifact that would be fused with the very foundation of the underworld. Its surface gleamed with ethereal engravings, glowing with the energies of death and rebirth. This artifact would oversee the fate of all souls, ensuring that none would remain aimless forever.
"Now, for the final step," Hephaestus said, wiping the sweat from his brow.
With Hades' command, the plate was brought into the deepest part of the underworld. As it settled into place, the underworld itself changed, reshaping into a structured realm with four distinct divisions:
1. The Lobby of Souls. This was the first stop for all souls entering the underworld. Here, a judgment would be made—where would their next path take them?
2. The Gate to Tartarus. Those who had committed great evils, whose very essence was tainted with darkness, would be drawn to Tartarus. Here, they would face their punishment, tormented by the abyss itself.
3. The Gate to Reincarnation. The souls of those who lived normal, honest lives would be led through this gate, where they would be reborn into new lives, continuing the cycle of existence.
4. The Throne of Heroes. A special place, floating above the underworld, where great heroes and legends—regardless of their morality—would ascend. These souls would not fade, nor would they reincarnate. Instead, they would become Heroic Spirits, eternally remembered and able to be summoned back into the world when needed.
The underworld trembled as the Plate of Reincarnation took its place, solidifying the new cycle of life and death. Hades watched as the first souls passed through the newly formed gates—some disappearing into Tartarus, others vanishing into the Gate of Reincarnation, and a select few ascending to the Throne of Heroes, their spirits shining like distant stars.
Hephaestus stood beside him, arms crossed, deep in thought. He should have felt satisfied. This was a monumental achievement—one of his greatest works. And yet… something stirred within him.
Something old.
A presence that had been dormant for eons suddenly awakened inside his soul.
Hephaestus clenched his fists as memories not of this life surged through his mind. Visions of an existence before this one—before he was the God of the Forge—flashed before his eyes.
A battlefield. A war of cosmic scale.
He saw himself, not as Hephaestus, but as something older, something beyond the comprehension of gods. A being who wielded the power of Incarnation—the ability to separate and manifest parts of his soul into different forms, giving them life and purpose.
But that power had been lost… buried deep within him when he was reborn into this world.
Now, standing before the Plate of Reincarnation, something about this creation had stirred that forgotten power awake.
"Incarnation…" Hephaestus whispered.
Hades turned to him. "What did you say?"
Hephaestus didn't answer immediately. Instead, he took a step back, his mind racing. If he had the power of Incarnation, then perhaps…
He turned, walking away from Hades. "I need to do something."
Deep within his forge, Hephaestus pulled a large, ornate clock from his gate of Hephaestus—a divine artifact he had created long ago but had never used.
It was called Chrono Orbis, the Clock of Destiny.
This artifact represented the concept of seeing both the past and the future. It had been a project of his, meant to observe the flow of time itself, but now, he realized its true potential.
"If I have the power of Incarnation," Hephaestus murmured, "then I can separate a part of myself… and give it form."
He placed his hand over the clock, his divine energy flowing into it. Then, with a deep breath, he did something no god had ever attempted.
He cut off a piece of his own soul.
Pain shot through him like molten fire, but he gritted his teeth, pouring the essence of his Incarnation into the Chrono Orbis. The clock glowed with divine power, its gears shifting as though awakening from a long slumber.
The artifact shook violently, golden light bursting forth, forming into a humanoid shape.
Then, it spoke.
---
The Prophet of the Odyssey
A figure stood before Hephaestus, clad in flowing golden robes, his eyes resembling the shifting gears of a clock—one eye showing the past, the other showing the future. He exuded an aura of wisdom and foresight, as if he had seen all things that had ever happened and all things that ever would.
He bowed.
"I am Tiresias," the being said, his voice smooth, calm, and infinitely knowing.
Hephaestus staggered back slightly, breathing heavily. He had succeeded.
Tiresias was no mere creation—he was a part of him. A fragment of his divine soul, given independent existence.
A true Incarnation.
"You know who you are right" Hephaestus asked.
Tiresias nodded. "I see all that was and all that will be. I am the Prophet of the Odyssey, the guide for those who seek the truth of their fate."
Hephaestus grinned, despite the lingering pain in his chest. "Then I suppose you're my first Incarnation."
Tiresias looked at him with knowing eyes. "Yes. I am your first… in this life."
Tiresias turned towards the underworld, his gaze piercing through time itself. "I will stay here. I see a future where a hero shall need my help"
Hephaestus smiled. "Alright then"
Tiresias gave him a small, knowing smile.
And with that, the Prophet of the Odyssey vanished, stepping into the flow of fate itself.