The cheers for the celebration are still echoing when a blinding, pure white light erupts in the center of the hall. It condenses into the forms of a man and a woman, their presence so vast it feels like the room has shrunk.
"We are Hemera and Aether, Primordials of Day and Air." As they introduce themselves, the very atmosphere in the hall becomes heavy and thick, smothering the music and chatter into a profound, awed silence.
"Greetings, Lord Aether, Lady Hemera." A wave of bows sweeps through the assembled deities. Zeus alone remains seated on his throne, his knuckles white where they grip the armrests.
"Please," Zeus states, his face an emotionless mask, though a muscle twitches in his jaw. "tell us what we can do for you?"
Aether snaps his fingers. A dense, cloudy fog billows through the hall, obscuring everyone. When it clears moments later, only Metis, Rhea, and her children are visible within the misty circle. Aether and Hemera's voices echo from the clouds themselves. "Zeus, you have taken the place of Cronus. Now you must also carry his burden."
A vertical scar tears open in the air before them, a jagged rift into nothingness.
Rhea's pupils constrict to pinpricks. Her lips tremble, and the words are a horrified whisper. "...The Giant Chasm."
Everyone looks at her, stunned and confused. Only Hades and Hecate remain calm, their expressions knowing.
"Yes, the Giant Chasm," Aether and Hemera confirm, their voices resonating with ancient gravity. "This is a gateway to another dimension where the world's most dangerous calamities are imprisoned."
"There are four Giant Chasms. One in the Earth Realm, guarded by Gaea. One in the Ocean, once guarded by Pontus but now transferred to Oceanus."
Poseidon murmurs, his voice low "...Master."
"One in Tartarus, which is guarded by Hades." As his name is called, all eyes shift to him. Hades offers them a mild, unreadable smile.
"And one in the Sky, which was guarded by your father, Cronus. And now... this is your DUTY."
"I will," Zeus replies, his voice stern and resolute.
The dense fog vanishes as suddenly as it appeared.
"Court is adjourned," Zeus announces. The crowd quickly disperses, leaving only Rhea, Hades, and Hecate behind. Hades steps forward. "Zeus, don't take this lightly. Even a small mistake can create a catastrophe."
Zeus snorts. "I know. You don't need to tell me."
Rhea moves to stand beside Hades, her face lined with worry. "Zeus, Hades is right. What that prison holds—"
"I know, Mother," Zeus interrupts, his voice sharp with impatience as he cuts her off with a sharp gesture. "The Primordials already told us. You don't have to repeat it." He stands, turning his back on them. "Now, I am tired. Please, let me rest."
Rhea's eyes narrow into a furious glare, but Zeus is already walking away, utterly unfazed.
---
Hades and Hecate are in their guest room on Olympus, preparing for the night's party. An array of beautiful dresses is strewn across the bed, and Hecate stands examining them with a critical eye.
"Ah! Which one is best?" She holds up two: a black peplos with golden embroidery and a white chiton similarly adorned.
"Hecate, how do I look?"
Hecate spins around. Her eyes widen. Her eyes swept over his outfit. Polished black leather shoes with a subtle shine, leading up to perfectly tailored black trousers. A buttoned black vest and matching shirt create a sharp, refined silhouette, completed by a long black overcoat draped over his shoulders.
She stumbles slightly, catching herself on his arm. "The outfit is... unusual," she admits, her hand sliding over the fine fabric of his coat. "But you look incredibly handsome in it."
Hades smiles, a genuine, warm expression that reaches his eyes. "Thank you." His gaze then sweeps over the disarray of dresses. "Wifey, why are you still not ready?"
Hecate sighs, the sound full of frustration. "I can't choose the right dress for the party." She looks at him hopefully. "Can you select one for me?"
His eyes, glowing faintly with amethyst light, sweep over the garments. He turns to her, a playful idea sparking in his gaze. "Hecate, would you wear something in my style?"
Hecate narrows her eyes, considering. "Hmm…" she finally says, a slow smile gracing her lips "Okay."
Hades snaps his fingers. Two golden wisps emerge from the shadows at their feet, swirling around Hecate. The simple chiton she wears begins to shimmer and transform, the fabric weaving itself into a new creation. A gown materializes, shimmering like a piece of the night sky itself. The deep midnight blue fabric is adorned with constellations and celestial patterns that seem to twinkle with their own light. Flowing layers cascade down like starlit waves, while intricate gold filigree wraps around the bodice and shoulders like captured moonlight.
Hecate looks down at the dress, then at her reflection in a nearby mirror. A blush creeps onto her cheeks. "It's... very beautiful."
Hades lifts her chin slightly. "You are the one who enhances the dress." He leans in and lightly kisses her. Hectate's face flushes a deeper red, and she gives him a gentle push. "Dear, now is not the time."
She tries to walk away, but Hades catches her hand, pulling her back against him. "Time doesn't decide that," he murmurs, his lips brushing against her neck. "I do."
Knock. Knock.
Suddenly, someone raps sharply on the door. Hestia's voice calls out, "Hades! Hecate! Come quickly! The party has already started!"
Hades pulls open the door. "Yes, sister. We are just coming."
"Oh! Wow!" Hestia's eyes widen, her mouth falling open in a small, surprised 'o'. A slight admiring blush touches her cheeks. "You both look absolutely gorgeous!"
"Thank you, sister."
As they are about to leave, Hecate calls out, "Nixi!" A small black kitten leaps from her shadow onto her arm. Nixi's fur is unusually shiny and silky, as if groomed for the occasion.
They arrive at the garden party on Olympus. Deities chat in animated groups, some dance in the grand ballroom, others enjoy nectar and ambrosia. The moment Hades and Hecate enter, the focus of the room shifts toward them.
A wave of murmured admiration follows them.
"Wow!Gorgeous! Who is that goddess?"
"Look at her dress! It's like she's wearing the night sky!"
But mixed with the admiration are whispers of disdain.
"Look, the grim reaper and his witch have arrived! Hahaha!"
"What rubbish they are.That's why I feel disgusted just having a party with chthonic deities."
A group of goddesses, led by Metis and Hera, glides over to Hecate. "You look so beautiful tonight, Lady Hecate," Metis says her compliment gracious and seemingly genuine.
Hecate offers a genuine smile. "Thank you, Lady Metis. But you also look quite gorgeous tonight."
Hades leaves Hecate with the group and makes his way to the bar. A servant immediately serves him a cocktail of nectar and wine. He drains the glass in one go.
"Drinking like that is not a good, Lord Hades." Prometheus takes the seat next to him, sipping his own drink with more decorum.
Hades answers, his eyes never leaving Hecate across the room. "Then what do you want me to do? Put on a fake face and make worthless conversation with other fake-faced individuals?"
Prometheus finishes his drink and faces the crowd, his expression thoughtful. "I did not mean that, Lord Hades." He pauses for a moment. "I meant that you have such a beautiful wife. You should dance with her."
Hades side glance at him. "Keep your suggestions to yourself." Hades's voice dropped, calm and sharp. "State your business."
Prometheus flusters, waving his empty glass.. "No-no-no, I don't have such a motive, Lord Hades." He lifts his empty glass. "I just came to join you for a drink."
Hades turns his head fully, giving him a flat, disbelieving stare. Prometheus tries to hold the gaze but sighs in defeat after a few seconds. "Yes. I have a small request."
Hades signals for another drink, his gaze flicking back to Hecate, who is laughing with the other goddesses. "Say."
Prometheus leans closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I know Zeus's personality. He will surely make life hell for the neutral faction and the family of Cronus's allies." He takes a long, steadying breath. "So, I request that you take all members of the neutral faction as refugees in your realm."
Hades thinks, 'Hmm…He's right. Refugees would solve our lack of working hands in the Underworld. And as for spies... once they are in my domain, they can do nothing against my will.' He gives a single, curt nod. "Alright. Send them to the Underworld."
Prometheus bows his head, a genuine weight seeming to lift from his shoulders. "Thank you, Lord Hades. I will never forget your grace."
Hades asks, "Who have you chosen to work in Underworld as per demand?"
Prometheus answers sincerely, "Epimetheus, my younger brother. He is a little bit clumsy, but he is kind and a hard worker."
Hades nods. "Hmm…" and turns his attention back to his drink. Prometheus follows suit, and they enjoy a companionable silence.
---
Meanwhile, in the ladies' group, the conversation is a whirlwind of gossip and fake laughter.
Hera approaches Hecate, a glass of nectar in her hand. Her eyes linger on Hecate's dress, and her smile is a forced, brittle thing. 'Huh… a duck trying to be a swan.'
She deliberately stumbles, her movement just a little too theatrical. "Ah!? Oops!" The nectar flies from her glass straight toward Hectate's gown.
Hectate's lips curve into a slight, knowing smile. She snaps her fingers. 'Psychic.'
The nectar, and Hera herself, freeze mid-air. With a casual wave of her hand, Hecate corrects Hera's posture and guides every last drop of nectar back into the glass. She plucks the glass from the air and walks over to a stunned Hera. Hecate is smiling, but her amethyst eyes are cold chips of ice.
"Oh! Are you okay, Hera?" Hectate's voice is sweet, but her grip on Hera's wrist is like iron as she leans in close. Her whisper is a venomous chill down Hera's spine. "I know what trick you tried to pull. It's worthless. It's better you stop. My husband and I came here with goodwill. Do not try to spoil our mood. That path leads to a place you do not want to visit."
She releases Hera's wrist, which is already reddening from the pressure, and steps back as if nothing happened.
Hera narrows her eyes, clenching her teeth as she stares at Hectate's retreating back, cradling her sore wrist. She murmurs under her breath, "You will pay for this… witch."
Hectate's eyes find Hades, who is still at the bar but whose gaze is fixed intently on her. She leaves the group and walks to him, offering her hand. "Let's dance."
Hades is stunned. "No, no, no. You know I don't know a single thing about dancing. And you want to do it in front of everyone?"
From behind, Prometheus gives him a firm push. "Don't be shy, Lord Hades!" Hades shoots a glare over his shoulder, and Prometheus immediately turns back to the bartender. "One more glass, please!"
Hecate fixes Hades with a stern, unwavering look. "Hades…"
He sighs in utter defeat and stands, taking her offered hand.
They walk to the center of the ballroom. Hades places one hand in hers, the other hesitantly on her waist. They begin to move, but his steps are clumsy and rigid.
"Hades," Hecate instructs softly, "look at my eyes. Nothing else."
"But—" he starts to protest, his eyes darting nervously to the watching crowd
Her stern glare silences him. He forces himself to meet her gaze, to get lost in her beautiful amethyst eyes.
"Do you love me?" she asks.
"Yes."
"Then show me."
His eyes narrow slightly in confusion. "But how?"
Hecate smiles. "Free your body. Let your emotion control your motion." She leans closer, her whisper for him alone. "Don't think of anything but me… feel what you feel for me."
"Hecate…" Hades murmurs. He closes his eyes, and a flood of memories washes over him: their first meeting, their battles side-by-side, their quiet, precious moments together. When he opens his eyes again, they are different. The sharp, calculating edge is gone, replaced by a soft, focused warmth. A small, genuine smile touches his lips. The rigid tension in his shoulders and back melts away.
Hectate's eyes widen. Her face flushes with heat, and her heart begins to beat a rapid, frantic rhythm against her ribs.
"What's wrong?" he asks, his voice now a soft, intimate rumble.
"Nothing," she whispers, trying to calm and failing the storm he has unleashed in her simply by looking at her like that.
They begin to dance again. There are no flashy moves, no complex steps. It is a simple, intimate dance. But they have forgotten the party, the music, the mocking and admiring stares alike. The world narrows to the space between them, to the point where their hands meet and their hearts sync. In this crowded hall, it is as if only the two of them exist.
Prometheus watches the beautiful couple, his drink held loosely in his hand. His face is slightly flushed, his eyes half-closed. "There are many beautiful and gorgeous deities at this party," he muses to himself. "But still, the so-called witch and the evil god appear the most beautiful of all."
---
PART I : RISE OF HADES END