A Tale of Hope – Part 3

POV Hades

The sound of something collapsing pulled my attention back into my body. Demeter's warm breath lingered against my ear, one of her hands tangled in my hair, her legs still wrapped around my waist—embracing me in more ways than one. I could still feel the heat of her, the exquisite sensation of filling her completely.

The room around us was nearly unrecognizable. Shredded bits of clothing lay scattered across the floor. Pillars were cracked, sections of the ceiling had crumbled. Claw marks traced the walls, and shallow craters dented the stone floor where our bodies had once writhed together.

Beyond the debris, my divine senses informed me that Hestia was approaching. I gently moved one pair of hands from Demeter's thighs to her waist, and the arms that had been gripping her so tightly—fingers buried in her hair—shifted to help ease her down.

"Why..." she began, only to let out a soft moan as I slowly slipped free from her, "...did you stop?"

"We're about to have company," I replied, nodding toward the door.

From the look on her face, it was clear that Demeter wouldn't have minded being caught. Still, I added, "Unless you'd like Hestia to find us like this."

I gestured toward the marks on my neck and back, faint trails of golden ichor still weeping from her bites. Similar marks adorned her thighs and spine. Fortunately, I could control my physiology well enough to bleed ichor instead of releasing divine smoke—if that had entered her mouth, things might've turned... complicated.

"I wouldn't mind," she teased, smiling lazily. "But I know you prefer certain things to remain private."

With a casual gesture, Demeter summoned her divine power. Our clothes reformed around us, the wounds closed, and the air in the room shifted—freshened with a breeze that carried away the scent of our indulgence.

"Hestia is pure," I murmured, focusing my authority to begin repairing the damaged hall. "She shouldn't be exposed to... these things."

"Pure," Demeter laughed, and her voice echoed through the room, so full and rich that even the underworld's stone seemed to tremble with amusement.

"She took a vow of chastity, didn't she?" I asked as I finished dressing, my eyes trailing over her with open admiration. "I know purity and chastity aren't the same, but she's never shown interest—never hinted at curiosity."

"Oh, Hades," she said, stepping toward me and brushing my robe aside to kiss my shoulder just before it was covered. "She never told you because she finds it awkward to speak of such things with you. But yes—Hestia vowed never to give herself to another. That doesn't mean she can't enjoy what she sees, or find other ways to... engage. I know for a fact she's had dreams about you."

I froze, blinking slowly as her words settled in. It took me several seconds just to begin processing them. And I still hadn't found a proper response when Hestia entered the throne hall, smiling brightly.

"Your stars are ready, Hades! Though I wonder—couldn't they have been a little bigger? It took me days to light them all, but it was worth it. The underworld already feels cozier. The mushrooms down here seem to like them too... and the newly arrived souls, at least I hope they do."

She glanced at us briefly, then continued, "I hope the two of you had time to talk. Demeter said there was something important she needed to discuss with you."

…It seems our conversation had lasted longer than I realized.

POV Pandora

After the emissary fled from the conversation we were supposed to have about Lord Hades' message, Lord Epimetheus offered to accompany me to my place of residence. I accepted his offer out of courtesy, but it didn't take long for me to realize it had been a mistake.

He asked me questions—so many questions—about everything and nothing. They were scattered, invasive, without any sense of flow. From whether I could become his wife, to why I was so different from other mortals, to what might be inside the box.

He is a Titan, so I remained polite and tried to gently steer the conversation elsewhere, but it seemed futile. Thankfully, we were already approaching the designated location: a cluster of stone houses atop a cliff overlooking the sea. Some mortals had already taken up residence there, but most homes were still empty.

The highest house on the cliff was meant to be mine.

"Thank you for guiding me here," I said to Epimetheus as I stepped toward the entrance, hoping he would take the hint and leave.

"Don't worry, I'm happy to assist. How about we go inside? I still have a bit of ambrosia and nectar from my last visit to Olympus," he replied, stepping closer to the doorway.

"Unfortunately, I'm quite tired. Today's events have been exhausting," I said gently. "Perhaps another time, when Lord Helios rides again across the sky."

I stepped back and began to close the door. But before it could shut completely, his hand pressed against the wood, halting it.

"Don't worry, I'll be nearby. Watching over you."

His gaze sent a chill down my spine. Lord Hades' warning echoed in my mind.

"Thank you," I whispered, voice low and cautious. I finally managed to close the door. Peeking through one of the small windows, I saw him walking away from the house—but not far. He glanced back more than once before approaching another nearby home.

He knocked, and when a human answered, Epimetheus grabbed the man by the arm and pulled him outside. They spoke briefly before the mortal lowered his head and left in silence. Then Epimetheus entered and claimed the house for himself.

I turned away from the window and looked around the house that was now mine. It was simple: a single room, but spacious. There was a pit in the center, prepared for a small fire. The stones near the ceiling had narrow vents carved to let smoke escape. In one corner lay a bed made of woven branches and dry grass, softened by animal hide.

Sitting on the bed, I let my thoughts drift toward the uncertain future. The box Lord Zeus had entrusted me to protect was still bound to my wrist by a bronze chain. I couldn't understand why such a task would be given to a mere mortal, but regardless—I would protect it with my life.

As I traced the box's curves and delicate carvings, I wondered if simply looking inside would truly do any harm. But I resisted the temptation. Instead, I prepared myself.

Slipping out quietly, I moved to a direction from which Epimetheus wouldn't be able to see me from his windows. I gathered some dry sticks and a few fruits, then quickly returned inside. I arranged the kindling into the fire pit and invoked a quiet prayer to Hestia to light the flame.

The goddess' sacred fire sparked gently to life, warming the room and soothing both my body and soul. I selected the ripest fruit and tossed it into the flames.

"An offering for the Lord of the Underworld, he who possesses all riches. I ask for your guidance, o Lord of the Dead."

I waited, instinctively knowing that the flames should shift color—perhaps to a dark blue or violet—when my prayer was received. But nothing happened.

Instead, a chill crept over me. The fire began to dim. The light withdrew, and shadows deepened.

"Child," a voice said behind me. "Hades is... unavailable at the moment. I cannot accept your offering on his behalf. But I can help you."

I spun around.

Before me stood the most beautiful creature I had ever laid eyes upon. Long black hair shimmered with starlight, like the night sky had been spun into silk. Her features were divine—so perfect, time itself seemed to pause around her. Her skin was pale, subtly luminescent. Her eyes, deep as the void, mirrored her hair.

She wore the night as her robe, and I couldn't look away. My mouth opened, then closed—no words came out.

"Speak, little one. Tell me what you wish to know, and I will aid you." Her fingertip gently pressed my chin, closing my mouth with a kind smile.

"I... I want to know more about Lord Hades' warning," I finally managed to whisper, feeling my face grow warm.

"Hades is a good boy," she said with a soft laugh. "He meant to warn you about Epimetheus... and Zeus. Their games, their traps. But you already suspected this, didn't you, child?"

She gestured toward the box still clutched in my hands. I followed her gaze. When I looked up again—she was gone.

Night had fallen. Selene's chariot now carried the moon across the sky.

I sighed, only to freeze at the sound of movement outside. Stepping toward the window, I saw Epimetheus quietly closing his door. Then, without hesitation, he began walking toward me.

POV Dante

My other half now belonged to the Underworld. At the very least, I had been granted the chance to see him one last time—and more than that, Lord Hades had given us the opportunity to mend the mistake committed by Lord Zeus himself. I never thought the answers to the problems of the living world would come from the realm of the dead.

I looked into the polished surface of the shield before me. Cain had left me gifts—items he claimed were chosen by the energy of the Underworld itself and Lord Hades' will. As the Prophet of the Dead, he said, I would need specific tools.

After accepting the title, my hair had turned stark white, my dark eyes now gleamed like obsidian, and my canines had lengthened, almost lupine in nature. My body had changed—stronger, sharper, no longer merely human.

But my attention was focused on two items: the first was a ring on my finger, pitch-black with a single blood-red gem. Cain had called it The Fool's Ring. The second was a massive blade—so large that, before Hades' blessings, I likely wouldn't have been able to lift it.

He named it Pathmaker.

Apparently, if I could master the power sealed within, I would become unbeatable among mortal warriors.

Why a prophet of Hades would need weapons was still unclear to me. Most of the teachings passed down were about how to treat the dead—how to care for bodies after death, about things called "diseases," "infections," "viruses," and more. Even if part of me instinctively knew none of these things should exist, I studied them regardless.

My train of thought was shattered by a scream.

I sprinted toward the door, not even thinking to unlock it—I simply smashed it open with my new strength. Pathmaker flew through the air, as if alive, placing itself in my right hand. At the same time, The Fool's Ring warped and expanded, becoming a gauntlet that covered my left forearm.

The scream had come from the house taken by the "Woman"—the one forged in the image of the goddesses, the first mortal of such design. Fascinating, certainly. But not enough to have made me visit her before this.

Now I ran.

Each step shattered the earth beneath me, hurling me forward faster and faster, until I saw her. The door burst open—she stumbled outside. Her clothes were partially torn, and the box she carried, still chained to her wrist, had been flung open.

I felt it before I saw it: the detonation.

Her house exploded.

Stone and fire shot in every direction. I raised the gauntlet to block the debris, shielding myself from harm.

But then my legs stopped listening to me.

Standing before me were creatures made of pure negative energy—antitheses of mortality itself. And I recognized them. These were the very evils Lord Hades had warned me about—taught me to understand. Now they were real. They had broken free.

And in their midst stood Epimetheus.

The Titan screamed in agony, some of the evils latching onto him, merging with his essence. Slowly, his form began to change—he grew, warped by pain and corruption, becoming monstrous. No longer the humanoid figure he once was.

Pathmaker pulsed in my hand, and The Fool's Ring responded violently to his presence. Something rose from the ring, inscribed in divine flame high above the battlefield, formed from the very will of Lord Hades:

"Epimetheus, the Titan Who Thinks Too Late."

As if triggered by some forgotten rite, a rhythm stirred in the air. A strange music began to play, and my body started to move on its own—my head nodded back and forth, my foot tapped the ground.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HEF2L7my0-c)

Epimetheus now towered over me, larger than four houses combined. He had two heads—one on his shoulders, and the other grotesquely placed where his genitals should be. His arms had stretched unnaturally long, and his hands... they no longer had bones. Instead, his fingers dangled, twitching and undulating like the tentacles of the sea creatures from Lord Poseidon's domain.

His garments had been replaced by grotesque black growths, pulsing and cracking open to leak a foul, gray ichor.

Now I understood.

Now I saw why Lord Hades had entrusted me with a blade.

POV Cain

I had never heard of prophets or priests undergoing physical transformation… nor of weapons materializing out of thin air. But I pretended it was all part of Lord Hades' divine plan—nodded as if I understood, accepted it as if expected. Still, deep down, I couldn't help but hope that once I returned to the Underworld, he would actually explain what all this meant.