Dr. Edward Sterling was an anomaly in the academic world. At just 25 years old, he had earned a reputation as a brilliant scholar of mythology, with a particular obsession with ancient gods.
His office, a cluttered sanctuary within the mansion where he lived, was filled with books, artifacts, and scrolls from various epochs and civilizations. It was his obsession to collect them.
It was a rainy afternoon, Edward was rummaging through a dusty corner of a small, antiquarian bookstore.
After a while of rummaging through the things in the store, he suddenly stumbled upon a worn, leather-bound diary. It was a little dusty so he pulled out his handkerchief and started dusting it gently.
He noticed its cover was adorned with an intricate design of serpents entwined around a skeletal tree. "So impressive." He murmured. He opened it and found cryptic symbols and archaic language scrawled across its pages.
The shopkeeper was an elderly man with a knowing gleam in his eye. He watched the diary in Edward's hand and saw him opening the diary. "This is no ordinary book. It is said to contain forgotten tales of the divine, stories that have been lost to time", the shopkeeper said to Edward.
That caught his interest. He was intrigued to hear that. "I'll take it", he said and the shopkeeper grinned upon hearing this. He purchased the diary and hurried back to his study.
By the time he reached his study, it was nighttime, and a storm raged outside. He freshened up and changed his clothes into a more comfortable one. He was curious about what was written in that book and headed to his study.
Eager to unlock the secrets within he now sat by the dim light of his desk lamp, the flickering shadows dancing on the walls. The room was filled with the scent of old paper and leather, a comforting aroma for a man who lived and breathed ancient texts.
He could sense the weight of centuries pressing down upon him as he began to interpret the text, his fingers tracing the faded ink.
The words seemed to shimmer on the page as if infused with a strange, otherworldly energy. Hours passed, and the storm outside grew more intense, the wind was howling like a chorus of ancient spirits.
Hours passed and midnight approached, his mind absorbed in the ancient tales. The diary recounted the exploits of gods and goddesses, their triumphs and tragedies, their loves and betrayals. Each tale was more captivating than the last.
But one peculiar entry caught his eye. The entry was written in a different hand, its script hurried and jagged. It spoke of a ritual, a summoning of sorts, that could bridge the mortal realm with the domain of the gods.
Intrigued, Edward continued reading, his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke the words aloud. But the final passage sent a shiver down his spine:
"In darkness, thou shalt find the gate,
Where realms congregate, and fate doth wait.
Speak the words, embrace the night,
And journey forth to Hades' might."
As he uttered the final word, a sudden chill enveloped the room. The light of the lamp flickered and died, plunging the study into darkness.
Edward felt an overwhelming drowsiness wash over him, and despite his efforts to stay awake, he succumbed to a deep slumber. The diary slipped from his grasp as he fell into a deep slumber.
When he awoke, he found himself in a place unlike any he had ever known. The air was thick with the scent of sulfur, and an eerie silence hung in the atmosphere. He realized he was standing in a vast, shadowy realm.
Its landscape is wrapped in endless twilight. Dark, jagged mountains loomed in the distance, and the ground beneath his feet was cold and barren.
Confusion and fear gripped him as he tried to comprehend his dilemma. How had he come to be here? What had he unleashed by reading the diary? He thought.
As Edward took in his surroundings, he noticed a shimmering pool of water nearby. Compelled by an unexplainable urge he approached the pool and then peered into its depths to see his reflection.
But what he saw was Hades', whose appearance was both regal and intimidating. His face was chiseled with sharp, aristocratic features, a strong jawline, and high cheekbones that gave him an air of timeless authority.
His eyes, a piercing shade of deep blue, seemed to hold the weight of countless souls, cold and unyielding. They glimmered with a hint of ethereal light as if they could see into the very essence of one's being.
His hair was jet-black, cascading down in waves to his shoulders, framing his face like a dark halo. It contrasted starkly with his pale skin, which seemed to glow with an otherworldly luminescence. His expression was one of stern command, his lips set in a firm line that spoke of his unyielding nature.
He was clad in a robe of deep, midnight black, adorned with intricate silver patterns that seemed to shift and change, illustrating the scenes of the Underworld. The fabric flowed around him like shadows, giving the impression that he was one with the darkness itself.
Around his neck, he wore a heavy chain of obsidian, and a crown of ebony rested upon his head, signifying his dominion over the realm of the dead.
As Edward continued to stare, the visage of Hades radiated an aura of power and authority, a reminder of the god's dominion over life and death. The realization that he had somehow become this formidable deity made his heart pound even harder in his chest.
Edward realized with a mix of amazement and terror that he had become Hades, the ruler of the Underworld. The diary's cryptic passage had transmigrated him into the very essence of the god, binding his soul to the realm of shadows.
As he gazed into the shimmering pool, the weight of his new reality settled upon him. He was no longer Edward Sterling, the young scholar of mythology.
He was now 'Hades', the god of the underworld, destined to reign over the land of the dead.