A Tale of Hope – Part 4

POV Dante

I narrowly dodged one of Epimetheus's wild attacks, throwing myself onto the ground and rolling away as the grotesque tentacles—once fingers—smashed into the spot where I had been mere seconds before. The impact shattered the earth, sending dust and broken stones flying through the air in all directions. As debris rained around me, I instinctively raised my gauntlet-clad arm, snatching a jagged rock out of the air before it could strike me.

His attacks, while brutally direct, weren't complex—they lacked finesse. But their sheer force and speed were enough to demand my full focus. A single glancing blow could easily end me. Every movement felt like walking a tightrope above the abyss.

I darted toward his legs, weaving between the craters and gouges left by earlier strikes. As I approached, I saw his massive foot rise above me, a thunderous stomp incoming—amplified by whatever corrupt force now lived within him and by the malice born from Pandora's shattered box. I braced myself, hesitating for a split second. Then, instead of dodging, I gripped my sword with both hands and took a calculated risk.

As his foot descended like a divine hammer, I swung upward with everything I had. The blade bit deep into flesh, and I felt the resistance—then a sickly warmth as Ichor sprayed across the weapon and my hands. The scent was overpowering: sweet, but rancid, a decaying divinity clinging to my skin like smoke. I screamed and drove the cut deeper. The moment the blade tore free, a third of his massive foot slammed into the ground, creating a tremor that nearly toppled me. The wound bled freely, divine essence pooling in steaming rivulets.

His agonized roar shattered the air, so powerful that it felt like my eardrums were pierced. I resisted the urge to cover them as warm liquid trickled down from my ears. My vision swam, a disorienting hum clouding every thought—as though a swarm of insects had nested inside my skull. I dropped to one knee, planted my sword into the ground to steady myself, and fought the nausea threatening to rise.

Through the haze, I watched the titan falter, his form growing larger and more grotesque by the second. My body refused to respond. The Ichor was taking hold—paralyzing me. That cursed substance, soaked into my hands, was rooting me to the earth.

Then the gauntlet on my left hand heated, glowing faintly. It began to draw the Ichor into itself, purifying it—partially. The hum of music emanating from it grew louder, as though the artifact were awakening further. My hand, still not entirely my own, suddenly pointed toward a nearby house. Something shot from my palm—a thin line of metal or divine tether—and anchored to the structure. With a jolt, my body was yanked through the air, crashing through the stone wall. Pain lanced through me, but I forced myself to stand.

Through the gap I had made, I could see Epimetheus rising again. Embedded in his chest was my sword—the Path-Maker—its hilt barely visible. He was becoming something else entirely, a horror reborn from corrupted might.

I examined the gauntlet again. Near the wrist, the component that had launched me still glowed. With the titan advancing once more, I aimed it at his upper head and gave it a mental command to fire. The music within the gauntlet sped up—intensifying. My body launched toward him like a bullet, and the weapon pulsed with heat. Then, unbidden, words filled my mind. A technique revealed.

"Lance of Adamas," I whispered, my voice lost to the wind—but it was enough. The ring became a gauntlet once more, and metallic shards formed ahead of my hand, crystallizing into a jagged, gleaming spear.

Epimetheus opened his mouth to swallow me whole—but before he could, I hurled the lance with all the force I could muster. My body halted midair from the recoil, my bones groaning from the unnatural movement. The spear struck its mark, piercing through one of his eyes and exiting the back of his upper skull. The divine construct shattered into light as it passed through him.

I hit the ground hard. Pain exploded through my legs—I knew they were damaged, maybe broken—but I didn't stop. Driven by instinct, I launched myself forward again. Grasping the hilt of my sword still lodged in his chest, I pulled it free, kicked him to push away, and resumed the assault.

The titan no longer resisted. But I didn't stop. I hacked and slashed—arms, legs, neck—until his massive body lay dismembered. My own form dripped with sweat and Ichor, trembling with exhaustion and divine poisoning. Yet I had succeeded. He was down, perhaps not dead, but far from a threat.

Then I saw it—his spilled Ichor seeping into the ground, birthing horrors in the dark, creeping away beneath the veil of night. I had no strength left to pursue them.

Eventually, other mortals gathered. They stared at me, then at the titan's broken body. Pandora appeared too, speaking, perhaps asking something—but I couldn't hear her over the piercing ring in my ears.

She came closer. I raised a shaking hand, stopping her.

"No… the Ichor… it's dangerous." My voice echoed strangely, like a thought spoken aloud in another plane.

I collapsed, seated on the broken earth, watching as the cursed divine blood wormed its way beneath my skin. The gauntlet tried to absorb it, glowing fiercely, but it wasn't enough. I felt my vitality slipping.

I shouted—though it sounded like a whisper—to bring water, plants, anything to cleanse the infection. Whatever had tainted Epimetheus was monstrous in nature.

Darkness overcame me.

When I awoke, cold water washed over my body, scrubbing away the remaining Ichor. Around me, mortals worked feverishly. The ground where the titan had fallen was now bare—his Ichor entirely absorbed.

They spoke to me, but I still couldn't hear them. And then came the tremor—low, resonant, divine. Faces turned skyward, terrified. From the heavens, cloaked in storm clouds, descended Lord Zeus himself. The Master Bolt crackled in his hand, his fury unmistakable.

With a mere gesture, the remains of Epimetheus vanished in a flash of lightning.

Then Zeus stood before me. The air around him crackled. Every mortal nearby fell to their knees from the sheer force of his divine aura. I couldn't even manage that—I simply sat, weak and broken.

He spoke. I couldn't make out the words.

I turned my head weakly, trying to process what was happening. His gaze narrowed. Then, with a wave of his hand, sound returned—like a thousand birds shrieking at once.

"You dared to strike an Olympian ally, a Titan under our banner. What say you in your defense, mortal?" His voice was thunder itself, shaking my bones.

"Lord Zeus," I answered, pointing to Pandora, "Epimetheus attacked one of us. I acted to protect her."

"The life of a mortal," Zeus declared, "is beneath that of a god or titan. If such a thing happens again, none of you are to interfere. You live by our grace."

Rage flared within me. He was the one who separated us, who dictated the terms of our suffering—and now he dared to demand submission?

"You will be punished," he concluded.

Zeus raised his hand once more. The heavens and earth responded. In the next instant, all I could see was blinding light and the sharp sting of ozone.

POV Hera

Everything had descended into chaos. Hera couldn't understand how things had unraveled so quickly. Just days ago, everything was in order—Pandora had been created, Zeus had crowned her Queen of Olympus, and the box had been opened, releasing the curses and other creations imbued with the sovereignty of the heavens and her own divine mastery of magic.

But what now stood before her was something that should never have happened.

The body of Epimetheus, torn apart and defeated by a mere mortal, lay at her feet. That fact alone was baffling. How had it come to this? Somehow, the Titan had absorbed fragments of heavenly sovereignty and the dark forces sealed within Pandora's box. The result was something entirely new—something far more dangerous than the Titan himself.

Hera summoned her divinity, channeling her senses to examine what remained of him. His divine spark—what once tethered him to his immortality—was tainted, corrupted beyond recognition. It flickered inside the ruin of his body, trying to flee the physical shell that bound it. Her brow furrowed in confusion. She extended her divine will to imprison the spark, to keep it contained… but the moment her essence touched it, her instincts screamed at her to recoil.

The spark had consumed her divinity.

Startled, she stepped back just in time to watch Epimetheus's form begin to bubble, as if his flesh were melting into liquid. The severed pieces of his body dissolved into a grey Ichor that flowed inward, converging at a single point until what remained was no longer a corpse—but an egg.

A massive, pulsing, grey egg.

She approached it slowly, cautiously. Inside, she could hear something alive. A rhythmic pulse, like a heartbeat—and emanating from it was a power unlike anything she had felt before. It was a fusion of celestial sovereignty, primal magic, and a third element—something entirely new. Something negative. Something hungry.

"What have we done, Zeus…" she whispered toward the bolt of lightning that had struck the earth nearby.

"What have I…?" he began, then followed her gaze. His eyes widened at the sight of the egg. For a rare moment, confusion overtook the King of the Gods. But then he straightened, his voice turning cold. "We did what was necessary. We'll send Epimetheus—whatever he has become—to the domain of Poseidon. I had planned to cast him into Tartarus, but we can't trust Hades right now."

"It doesn't matter whether we trust him or not," she replied, her voice firm, her arm outstretched toward the egg. "Look at this. No matter what hatches from it, we are looking at a new threat. And more than that—what are we going to tell Prometheus?"

"Prometheus will obey," Zeus said with disdainful certainty. "I am the Sovereign of the Skies. The King of the Gods. As for this"—he gestured dismissively toward the egg—"Poseidon helped forge the gates of Tartarus alongside the Cyclopes. Surely he has a fissure deep enough to bury this thing. He can seal it shut with celestial bronze."

He didn't wait for her response. Instead, he summoned a few nearby nymphs and ordered them to notify Poseidon of what was coming.

"This will only delay the inevitable," Hera said sharply. "We need a real answer. A real plan." She tried to continue, but the moment she spoke, Zeus placed his hand on her shoulder. His gaze locked with hers, and the words died in her throat.

"I will not be questioned," he said darkly. "Unless you wish to follow Metis and Demeter… to Hades's side."

A heavy silence followed.

"I understand," she replied, bowing her head slightly. "Recall the nymphs. If you permit it, I will deliver the egg to Poseidon myself. He must understand what's happening here on Olympus."

"Go," Zeus said without turning around. "And return quickly. The throne of Olympus still requires its queen."

Then he walked away, each step taking him farther from the battlefield, and deeper into the palace.

POV Caim

The return to the Underworld took longer than I had anticipated. Along the way, I came across Lord Thanatos, who called me over and asked me to accompany him as he went to collect a few souls.

"I'm explaining the process," he said, his voice calm and composed, "so that in the event of a tragedy, I'll have another being I can summon to assist in the gathering. There's a limit to how many instances of myself can exist at the same time." As he spoke, he demonstrated how the soul release process worked. "Some souls find their way to the Underworld on their own… others, however, need a guiding hand."

After showing me how to handle a few of these cases, he sent me back to the Underworld.

It looked different when I returned—brighter, more alive. A divine presence, whom I believed to be Lady Hestia, was lighting small flames in crystals affixed to the cavernous ceiling. I approached her, hoping there was something I could help with… and also to ask if she knew where Lord Hades was.

"Hades is busy right now, little mortal," she said gently, her voice soft like the flicker of the flames she carried. "He and Demeter are finally doing something they should have done ages ago. But tell me what you were going to ask him—perhaps I can help."

The way she moved made it nearly impossible to notice the crystal one of the gargoyles held beside her. But then I saw it—within the crystal shimmered the image of Lord Hades and a goddess… one atop the other.

"I was hoping to ask about two items," I told her, trying to focus, "which appeared when I named someone as the prophet of Hades." I proceeded to describe both items in detail.

She paused in thought for a few moments before a memory seemed to stir.

"They're likely some of Hades' experiments," she finally said. "I recall him mentioning a few of them once. They were created during the time he was trapped inside Kronos's stomach. Perhaps the divine connection between this mortal and Hades as his emissary was strong enough for the items to find their way to him."

She continued lighting the ceiling crystals as she spoke, the gargoyles circling gently, still holding the glowing stones that showed what was happening inside the chamber where Hades currently was.

"Come with me, little mortal," she said with a soft smile. "The gargoyles are wonderful company. Let's make the Underworld a little more comforting."

I nodded and began to float behind her, following her as the eerie yet gentle glow of the flames lit our path.