A Tale of Hope - Part 5 (Final)

POV Pandora

My body remained tense, ready to run at any moment. Sweat and tears mixed on my skin, as did the shivering from fear and cold. My garments were in tatters from when Epimetheus had tried to take me for himself. Opening the box had been a desperate attempt to distract him long enough for me to escape—but I had never imagined what would happen next.

I watched in disbelief as a mortal tore through a Titan. Though blood streamed from countless wounds, he seemed to ignore them. Each strike unleashed ichor from the Titan's body, and I found myself unable to look away from his movements—each one filled with relentless will.

When the battle finally ended, I, along with the others, approached. I wanted to thank him, to embrace him and cry. My existence had been a constant string of shocks, one after another. I hadn't even seen Helios draw his chariot across the sky again, and I had already been attacked twice. But that reunion never came.

Lord Zeus descended, and with him, the lightning bolt that obliterated the hero's body.

"Let this serve as a lesson to all mortals," he thundered. "Your existence is only by the grace of the gods. Those who dare defy us are punished. You have all disappointed me. I entrusted you with the box to safeguard it, and you opened it—unleashing horrors beyond your comprehension."

His deep, rumbling voice echoed, his piercing gaze stabbing into me like a blade. I braced myself, convinced I would be the next to fall to his divine wrath. But instead, he vanished—in the crackle of ozone and the deafening roar of thunder.

All eyes turned to me, filled with suspicion. His words echoed not just in their minds, but in mine. Still, I forced myself to focus on what truly mattered.

I looked at the charred statue before me, its form still smoldering with a small flame from within. Kneeling, frozen in place, staring at the very spot where Lord—no, Zeus—had stood, his sword still driven into the earth. Even in death, he seemed ready to rise and fight once more.

I reached out and gently touched his face. My hand burned, stained with black soot, but I didn't care. I wept for the one who had saved me.

The flames within him flared as more of his body began to crumble into ash. Kneeling before him, I opened the very box that had unleashed the evils of the world and began gathering his remains. He had saved me, and now I would help him—even if it meant walking to the Underworld myself and demanding Lord Hades bring him back.

The others, moved by my actions, silently joined me. Our hands burned, but we gathered every speck of ash. The sword remained planted in the earth, but the ring was placed atop the mound of ashes. My tears fell onto the remains, and I swallowed my sobs. Closing the box, I looked at those around me. The distrust in their eyes faded, replaced by something else—something lost.

I didn't know much about who he truly was, but clearly, he had united us all. It was strange to realize this place—our home—had existed for less than a full cycle of Helios and Selene. Yet the grief we shared was real. Some reached for each other's hands, seeking comfort. I remembered that on this very same day, it was Zeus who had divided them.

"He gave his life to protect me," I said, lowering my head. I drew in a long breath and exhaled, then raised my voice for all to hear. "He was a hero. I'm certain he would have protected each of you with the same devotion. And I promise, I will do the same."

I walked toward the sword embedded in the ground. As I reached for it, I felt a divine presence analyzing me—cold, distant. I tried to pull my hand away from the hilt, but I couldn't. I trembled as the box in my other hand began to warm, and a voice stirred, trying to speak to me.

Together.

The voice echoed gently. It was a question, a plea. Caught between fear and trust, I remembered the one who wielded this weapon before me. And I accepted. I allowed it.

I felt the moment the Pathmaker acknowledged our shared existence. I felt the moment I ceased being simply Pandora. We had become more—something greater.

Now I understand the meaning behind the sword's name. Its power was to bring hope, to carve a path through the impossible. I felt the entirety of its divinity pour into that instant… but it was enough.

I was no longer Pandora.

I was no longer Dante.

We were one. Each of us the half the other needed. We would bring hope to a people shattered by the whims of a god. We would protect them. And when the end came, we would separate—each returning to our path, once we reached the Temple of Hades. The temple of our patron.

"Let it be remembered—we may be destroyed, reduced to ash, but in the end… we are one. In the end, we are Hope."

Our voice now carried a gentle echo—a blend of Pandora's and Dante's tones in perfect harmony.

"We are Elpída (ελπίδα)."

The box holding Dante's ashes was absorbed by the Fool's Ring, along with the ashes themselves. The ring floated gently until it settled on my finger. In an instant, I felt it activate—expanding, transforming into a living armor made of Dante's very remains. Violet flames flickered in place of our eyes, and I could feel lightning crackling through it—divine energy from Zeus, once trapped within Dante's soul, now reshaped by the sovereignty of the Underworld into something capable of protecting us all.

POV Prometheus

Even in a place beyond time and space, I felt the moment Pandora's box was opened. I looked toward Atropos and saw that she was intrigued by something.

"What makes a Moirai curious? Besides, you've lived so many lives—have you seen this moment before?" I asked, trying to take advantage of her curiosity to extract some answers.

"Each life is unique. The chances that information from one is useful to another are minimal. Not all universes follow the same rules or laws," she began, gesturing with her hands until a thread from the loom appeared between her fingers. She studied it with deep focus before trying to cut it with one of her claws—only for sparks to fly with no effect. "Zeus acted prematurely. You worry about the actions of some, while the true problem lies elsewhere."

She waved her hand, and the mirror shifted like water, revealing an image that froze me in place. My brother, Epimetheus, was attacking a mortal. I could feel the negative energy radiating from him—the madness that seemed to have overtaken him. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. How had the evils from Pandora's box taken control of my brother?

"Zeus and Hera did a sloppy job. I'll have to summon my sisters to correct it," Atropos said.

I looked at her.

"According to the loom of fate, he was meant to create diseases and other miseries for humanity. But instead, he created demons."

I watched the creatures being born from my brother's blood. They felt… wrong. That was the only way to describe them. Whatever they were, they didn't belong to the divine.

"Demons, also called the Insatiable, aren't supposed to exist in this world. They usually appear in realms where mortals can reach godhood on their own, without help," she continued. "Normally, mortals corrupted in their pursuit of ascension become these creatures. They feed on divine energy and on vices. I believe Zeus has just sown his own downfall."

"You said you and your sisters could help," I asked, not looking away from my brother, now being destroyed by a mortal.

"And we will. But the energy of Fate that we three control is very small compared to the scale of what must be done. So what I propose is this: we'll slightly alter these demons, making them the origin of diseases and similar plagues. This will make them stronger against mortals, yes, but transferring this capacity will reduce their intelligence—they won't develop as much, and hopefully they'll perish before they discover how to hunt gods."

We silently observed Epimetheus being torn apart. When Zeus killed the mortal, I looked at Atropos in disbelief. It couldn't be… Could the lord of the heavens be this foolish?

I also noticed something else: Pandora's box was empty. Zeus hadn't created Hope. It couldn't be… Could Metis' absence have caused so many errors?

But watching Pandora declare herself Hope—joining with Hades' priest—left me speechless.

"As I thought. Even if everything changes, some acts persist through time. Mortal hope will always emerge. But this time…"

We both looked at the being Pandora had become.

Her feminine form remained, but now her hair moved on its own. Claws emerged from her fingertips. When she opened her mouth, rows of sharp teeth showed themselves. A pair of horns had grown from her head, with lightning and fire running between them.

"Hope has chosen a darker, more brutal form. It is no longer the kind that waits patiently for a better future. This is the kind that fights for it—hope that understands things will only improve if you act, if you are willing to become a monster to make them better."

My prophetic sight was weaker than before—the shifting threads of fate affecting me—but in that moment, I tried to look into the future.

A woman kneeling before a serpent

A choice

A vow

A pack of wolves chasing a mortal

A bear attacking a god

A dragon sleeping in the darkness

A passion

A betrayal

Secrets sealed in a forge.

Secrets revealed through love.

A flame given freely

A punishment

A decision

No one finding her

Her finding No One

More and more prophecies passed through my mind. My vision blurred. It was as if the very existence of Hope had made it easier to see them—but at the same time, they became more and more vague.

POV Hades

"Your stars are ready, Hades. Couldn't you have made them bigger? It took me days to light them, but it was worth it. The Underworld is cozier now. Even the mushrooms that live here seem to like it, and the newly arrived souls as well. At least, I hope you two had time to talk—Demeter mentioned she had something she needed to discuss with you."

Hestia's question caught my attention, pulling me away from the indiscretions that had just taken place. I looked at my sister, who had spent so much time lighting the stars for me. Demeter had a satisfied smile on her face, and I knew she had used her divinity to ensure that what I released into her body would remain there. I wasn't sure I was ready for that, but it seemed goddesses had a different perspective.

"The size was to avoid lighting up the Underworld too much. Some of its older inhabitants aren't fond of brightness, so I'd rather be a good neighbor," I said, glancing toward her before expanding my awareness to see what was happening in my domain. First, Caim had returned and was waiting to be let in. Second, more than two thousand new souls had arrived.

"The mortal world is quite active," I muttered.

"Likely due to Zeus's actions. Luckily, the Sovereignty of the Heavens doesn't work in the Underworld, or else I imagine he'd already be here trying to cause trouble," Demeter remarked.

"Our brother is a bit..." Hestia opened her arms to indicate something much larger than "a bit," before continuing, "...prideful and hard-headed. But I doubt he'd meddle in the affairs of the Underworld. Anyway, tell us the interesting part—how did the conversation go?"

She cut me off before I could continue discussing Zeus. Demeter watched me from the corner of her eye, clearly just as curious as Hestia to hear my response.

"The conversation was... pleasant," I said, keeping my expression steady. Then I turned toward Hestia. Demeter's words about her made me reevaluate our sister in a new light. "I hope you both can visit more often. It's always a pleasure having you here."

Hestia and Demeter exchanged a look, an entire conversation passing silently between them before they sighed and looked at me again.

"Hestia, ignore Hades. He seems incapable of expressing certain things," Demeter said, glancing out the window toward the star-lit ceiling of the Underworld.

"I suspected as much. Still, just hearing him say he enjoys our presence makes me happy... though I had hoped for a bit more," Hestia replied before motioning to the door. "That little one has been waiting to speak with you, Hades."

"Caim, come in. Hestia, Demeter, this is Caim—my first messenger and the mortal who allowed me to detect a serious issue with the souls. Thanks to his presence, I realized some adjustments needed to be made in the Underworld." I was quietly thankful for the topic shift.

I wasn't some adolescent afraid to express myself—but I was also not a show-off like most of Olympus. I preferred to keep my private matters well-guarded, even though I didn't mind occasional public displays of affection. As I walked to Demeter, I gently ran my fingers through her hair while admiring the incredible work Hestia had done. The Underworld now truly felt like a home. Still cold and partially dark, yes—but with a warmth in the background. A subtle comfort.

"Lord Hades," Caim began, "I named Dante as a priest of the Underworld. I explained the rites and spoke about what comes after." He trembled slightly at the mention of this. "You have my eternal gratitude, but I do have a question—if you'll permit me."

I took my eyes off the stars and turned to Caim, waiting for him to speak his mind. Hestia had also approached the window and was now leaning gently against Demeter. The two whispered quietly to each other, using divine energy to keep their conversation from my ears.

"When I named Dante, two items appeared before him: a sword called the Pathmaker, and a ring called the Fool's Ring. I'd like to know more about them," he said, bowing slightly. His curiosity was plain to see.

I kept my face neutral, showing no sign of surprise, and simply nodded. The fact that Item 035 and Item 04 had manifested in a mortal's hands was strange, especially considering both had been locked in my palace—inside Kronos's stomach. Reaching into my Sovereignty, I extended my senses to trace what had happened, and once I found the answer, it took all my divine will not to laugh.

Kronos's dismembered body, bound in Tartarus, was a treasure trove—and I, as the god of wealth, could access it through my divinity. Perhaps instinctively, my sovereignty had connected not only with my dominion over death but also over wealth. I would need to explore this further, but for now, Caim awaited an answer.

"They appeared for Dante because the priest of the Lord of the Dead is also the priest of the Lord of Wealth, and he needs artifacts that reflect that," I explained, inventing a suitable reason for what had happened unconsciously. "The sword you called the Pathmaker has the power to bind the wielder's soul to their physical body, allowing aid and escape from death. It doesn't prevent death from age or incurable wounds. As for the Fool's Ring, it has the ability to reveal the true names of things and can transform into a gauntlet that fires threads to help the user move through harsh environments—and grants access to something unique."

I paused briefly before continuing.

"It offers limited access to the Domain of Wealth, allowing temporary creation of items." I kept the ring's most entertaining feature to myself—it could play music. When I first forged it, I imagined Heracles using it while fighting the Hydra or the Nemean Lion, with epic music playing in the background.

"Thank you. Now, what would be my next task, my lord?" he asked.

I looked up toward the ceiling and at my sisters, then made my decision.

"Rest, but ask the gargoyles to inform everyone—we shall host another banquet. My sisters are visiting, and I want to introduce them properly."

POV Megaera

At last. After relentless insistence and the weight of too many arguments, I had finally convinced my sisters that the damp, stifling cavern we once called home was no longer sufficient. We were not born to lurk in the margins, hidden in the cracks of this realm. We did not deserve to live in the shadows while that seductive, insufferable sovereign lounged in his palace of stone and sovereignty.

Even now, the memory of his damned mouth—calm, composed, and far too inviting—dared to flicker behind my eyes. I growled, low and guttural, forcing it away. With all our items carried in our hands, we made our way toward the palace.

My chest burned with each beat of my furious heart, and a flush spread across my cheeks. Rage, anticipation, and—curse the thought—nervousness tinted my skin in deep crimson. Not fear. Never fear. But worry? Perhaps. Worry over what awaited us. Over what he might say. Over how this new balance in the Underworld might shift once the Furies claimed their proper place.