Do you know the story of Prometheus? No?
That's fine. Neither did Era.
When her consciousness flickered back to life in the sterile, white-washed confines of H.V.N. Headquarters, she found herself surrounded. The once-empty room now swarmed with people—scientists, administrators, guards—looming over her like vultures circling fresh prey. The air buzzed with overlapping voices, some angry, others reverent, but most insistent. It was suffocating, electric with urgency. Demands fired at her from all sides like bullets:
"Where did you go?" "How did you survive?" "What did you learn?" "Who did you meet?"
Wow, nearly all the W's.
The questions were relentless. Against all odds, here she was, intact, breathing, and—most frustrating to them— gleefully silent. Despite all Era's mistakes and frankly awful luck as of recent, her past was unmistakable. In this moment, she effortlessly switched back into that persona which allowed her to perform her missions with an eerie success. Era let the wave of chaos wash over her, her eyes roaming the room with calm detachment. She recognized the signs—the frantic shuffling, the furtive glances exchanged between the scientists and guards, the tension simmering just beneath the surface. Desperation. They were trying to conceal it, but it clung to them all like a second skin.
You see, Prometheus was the titan who defied the gods and stole fire for humanity, an act of rebellion that birthed civilization itself. And for his troubles? Eternal punishment—chained to a rock, his liver consumed daily by an eagle only to regenerate overnight for the torment to begin anew.
Noble. Selfless.
Stupid. After all, how many of us even remembered him? Or knew of him in the first place?
Era was no Prometheus.
To her knowledge, no divine retribution awaited her for sharing her secrets. She just didn't want to. Information was power, and Era had no intention of handing hers over like a gift on a silver platter, not when they were all making it so blaringly obvious how valuable it was. The people in this room hadn't exactly rolled out the red carpet for her on introduction either. True, you could make a good argument they were justified in that, but Era was petty.
Petty and now valuable.
An unfortunate combination for the average H.V.N worker.
If Era had been in Prometheus's shoes, she wouldn't have handed over fire to humanity out of the goodness of her heart. She'd have bartered for it. Sold it to the highest bidder. Or, kept it for herself, just to see what she could do with it.
"Move."
The single word cut through the noise, sharp and commanding. The crowd parted instantly, and Era didn't need to look to know who had spoken, she had been waiting for her after all.
The channeler stood in the doorway, her pale eyes gleaming with authority. "Come with me," she ordered, her voice calm but unyielding.
Era did just that.
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The walk through H.V.N. Headquarters was a study in contrasts: sleek corridors of steel and glass, cold and unwelcoming, as silent as a tomb. But the quiet between Era and the channeler wasn't uncomfortable. It was deliberate. Era was lost in thought, piecing together fragments of what she had seen and heard and plotting her next moves. The channeler, for her part, seemed keenly aware that any of her curiosities would go unanswered.
They wove through the maze of corridors, past sliding doors and up a secured elevator that required multiple levels of authentication. Finally, they stopped before a towering set of obsidian doors, their surface etched with symbols Era faintly recognised from the columns in the realm of Gods. They radiated a quiet menace.
"This is the seventh level," the channeler said, breaking the silence. "Reserved only for the agency's top detectives and high-ranking executives. The chairman has requested your presence."
Era scoffed, she knew they had been holding out on her. Honestly, bring about the end of the world, kill the last saving grace of humanity and she still hadn't earned a brush in with the boss, but a quick trip to the realm of Gods and suddenly his schedule was clear.
Jokes aside, that was telling.
"He won't be alone," the channeler continued, her tone measured. "Two of the Archangels will also be joining you"
Archangels? Seemed important. But just another reminder that Era was a baby navigating a tempest of an entirely new world.
"Any free advice?" Era asked casually, deciding it was worth the shot.
For a moment, the woman studied her, those pale eyes searching for something beneath Era's mask. Perhaps she was annoyed, or shocked or maybe she was looking for the reason Era, the stupid, clueless Ordinary had somehow managed to survive the wrath of the Gods, when none before her had. She didn't find what she was looking for. Without a word, she turned and walked away, leaving Era to face up against fate once more.
Era smirked. fair enough.
Without hesitation, she pushed the heavy doors open. They groaned on their hinges, splitting apart with a low, thunderous boom. Era stepped through the threshold, her stride steady, her expression unreadable. The room beyond was vast and imposing, a semi-circle of towering windows letting in the dim light of an overcast sky. At its centre, a sleek black table gleamed under the cold glare of overhead lights. Three people were already seated.
This was feeling like déjà vu.
But, it wasn't all the same. This time, Era's heart beats were even against her chest. Her stance was strong and unyielding. Her gaze unwavering. After what she had just gone through, a few suits were not going to bother her in the slightest. How would she play this? At present, the most important thing to Era was collecting information on the trials. Surely, the blessed humans had some sort of communication with their Gods, maybe if she struck a bargain with one of them they could find out something valuable about what they were concocting back there. An image of Zyra's smirk flashed before her eyes, and her body trembled. Era would stake her life Zyra was definitely going to participate and relish in cooking up the most excrutiating task. Information on her would be a priority, and Kaelith. Era recognised he was her best chance of becoming blessed, of all the Gods there he seemed the most receptive towards her.
But what was she willing to give in exchange?
"Let's skip the formalities and get to business, shall we?" Era said, sliding into the chair directly opposite the grey-haired man at the centre of the table. Her tone was measured, her eyes sharp as they locked onto his. He didn't respond. Instead, the man to his left leaned forward, taking the lead.
"Straight to the point. I like that," he said smoothly, his voice steeped in confidence.
Era's gaze flicked to him, sizing him up. Golden hair, chisseled features, icy blue eyes, and a smile that probably melted hearts on command. The kind of charisma that screamed dangerous. A silver tongue paired with a pretty face—a combination that had probably won over countless others.
"You've caused quite the stir, Era. Coming back from the dead, so to speak. People are curious." His tone was honeyed, his toothy grin practiced. A shiver curled through her spine.
Ew.
He must have taken her silence as a sign to keep going, his voice taking on a conspiratorial lilt as though they were teammates in some grand scheme. But every word only deepened Era's disgust. His attempts to charm her felt like oil slicking down her back, leaving her more annoyed with every passing second.
"Now, let's be honest," he continued, leaning in just slightly. "Between you and me, whatever you saw—gods, visions, otherworldly... things—it's fascinating, sure. But fascination doesn't equate to utility." He waved a hand dismissively, his expensive watch glinting under the lights. "Here, we deal in hard realities, not abstract notions. What you have? It might not be worth what you think. This is just a routine debrief, really. A formality. But, hey—maybe we can help you make sense of it all. Pool our knowledge for mutual benefit."
Era didn't catch all of it. Honestly, she didn't try. The smooth cadence of his voice was little more than background noise to her. The substance of his words? A steaming pile of self-serving shit.
She didn't blink, letting the silence hang. Just long enough for the man's smug mask to crack, for uncertainty to creep into his baby blues. His easy smile wavered. His fingers twitched toward his shiny watch as though adjusting it would help him regain control.
Era tilted her head, her expression carefully neutral. Then, as though the thought had only just struck her, she let out an exaggerated sigh.
"I'm so glad you said that," she said, her tone suddenly breezy, her hands gesturing animatedly.
"Everyone's been making such a big deal about it all. I felt terrible—really, I did. But hearing that from you? Such a relief."
His brow furrowed. "...What do you mean?"
"Oh, I don't remember a thing," Era lied, her face the perfect picture of earnest regret.
The man's composure shattered. "What?" he blurted, leaning forward in disbelief.
Era's laugh burst out before she could stop it. It was sharp and genuine, cutting through the tension like a blade. "Oh, come on," she said, her amusement fading into a sly grin. "You make it to easy"
His face flushed, and Era didn't bother hiding her satisfaction. She might have continued toying with him if not for the slow, deliberate sound of applause that cut through the air.
The woman to the right of the chairman finally interjected. Well, acted, first—a slow clap that dripped with sarcasm, followed by a cool, measured voice. "I had a feeling that wouldn't work. Unlike Danny here, I did my homework."
Era's amusement faded. She straightened in her chair, her gaze locking onto the woman. Tall, severe, and unyielding in her perfectly tailored black suit. Her glasses sat low on her nose, and her brown eyes, sharp as razors, dissected Era with surgical precision.
"I know who you are," the woman continued, her voice calm but weighted. "Not just Era. Era, the survivor of the Red Room. The child who—"
"That's enough," Era interrupted, her voice cutting through like a knife.
The woman's lips quirked into the faintest hint of a smile, but she complied, shifting gears smoothly. "All we need is a description. The gods you met. What you offered them to spare you. In exchange for classified information about the Red Room"
For a moment, Era said nothing. Her mind reeled, unbidden memories flashing like lightning through her consciousness: dimly lit corridors, cold hands, whispers that never stopped. The Red Room. Her past, clawing its way to the forefront. It left a bitter taste in her mouth. She was planning on giving them that information anyway, she needed to in order to get her own answers, but they had just crossed a line.
When she finally spoke, her voice was steady. "No."
The woman's brow arched. "No?"
"I don't care about the past," Era said, her tone as unyielding as steel. "It's the future I'm interested in."
Her gaze shifted to the chairman, the true puppet master behind this performance. The room fell silent, the air electric with unspoken tension.
"Let's cut the crap," Era said, her voice sharp and clear. "Danny here was good cop. Glasses was the bad cop. How about we skip to the part where you stop playing games?"
The chairman, silent until now, finally leaned forward, steepling his fingers. His grey eyes glittered with something Era couldn't quite place. Amusement? Respect? Or something far more dangerous?
"Very well," he said, his voice low and even. "Let's make a deal."
" We are very interested in your information. What Danny said is also partly true, I'm sure you'll benefit from our help deciphering all you've seen. We will help you in every way to do that. But as a gesture of fairness, I'll even the floor a little. I'll personally answer any questions you have concerning H.V.N first."
Era nodded, this was more than fair. This way she could ask her questions about H.V.N and receive helpful information about the trials too.
A soft whirring sound filled the room. From the sleek black surface of the table before her, an object began to take form. Grain by grain, materializing from shimmering particles, an egg timer appeared. Its sand was a deep, almost luminous gold, and it poured smoothly into the lower chamber. A soft tick accompanied each grain. She had seen this before.
The chairman leaned back slightly in his chair, his expression unreadable. "Your questions. Start now."
Era's eyes flickered to the timer, then to the chairman. "Fine," she said, her voice steady. "Let's begin with something simple: What's an archangel?"
" A title given to H.V.N's top ten detectives."
Simple enough, but was Era really to believe Danny and Glasses were amongst their best?
"Ok, how does ichor grant immortality? And," she paused for emphasis, "by extension does it allow you to collect abilities from others?"
A murmur of disapproval rippled from the two seated figures flanking the chairman, but he raised a hand, silencing them. His gaze locked onto Era's, and for a moment, she could see the calculation flicker behind his grey eyes. Then, to her surprise, he smiled.
"A smart question," he said, his tone almost approving. "And since time is of the essence, I'll answer concisely." He ignored the narrowed eyes of the golden-haired man to his left and continued. "Ichor is the essence of divinity. The more gates of divinity one has opened, the more ichor they possess. And the more ichor they possess, the closer they come to being like a deity themselves. "He leaned forward slightly, his voice soft but deliberate. "With increased ichor comes natural enhancements—strength, speed, durability. Even the body's natural ability to heal is magnified. It's not magic; it's biology, elevated to divine levels."
The golden-haired man opened his mouth to interject, but the chairman cut him off with a sharp glance.
"And yes," he continued, turning back to Era, "absorbing someone else's ichor can temporarily grant you access to their abilities and it seems without the restriction of the divine contract. But it's not permanent. That's why the Illuminati—and anyone who dabbles in ichor siphoning—must continuously... top up." He clasped his hands together, his tone even. "A crude but effective survival mechanism."
Era's face betrayed nothing, but her mind churned with this revelation. She studied the chairman, trying to discern if he was holding anything back. Likely. But the knowledge he'd offered was substantial enough to suffice.
"Interesting," she said finally, her tone neutral. She glanced at the timer again; the sand continued to fall at a steady rhythm. "Next question: the gods you know of—who are they? And what domains do they control?"
This time, the golden-haired man scoffed audibly, but the chairman raised a hand again. He didn't answer directly, his expression remaining guarded, but Era could see the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth. She knew she'd struck a nerve. There were things they wanted to protect, but their reaction confirmed what she already suspected—they knew far more about the gods than they let on.
" Very well. Let us start with the four common gifters: Kaelith, the God of chaos and flame. Erythea the Goddess of Love and desire. Auron, the God of the forge and craft and Asterae the Goddess of balance and justice. These four are well known by most at H.V.N. I could speak for an age about them, there are even university degrees dedicated to it, but I suspect you'd prefer I use my time listing the others. Next are the Gods known to us only by name and domain, Ithys, god of shadow and flight. Veyra, goddess of time and fate, she is the mother of the oracles. Hecate, goddess of sorcery and charm and finally Thalos: god of war and valor, gifter to the likes of Heracles and most recently Peter. That is all."
Only eight? There were 14 thrones. No mention of Zyra? Was she new for them, or were her gifted simply not bound to talk? That couldn't be all, but for now Era chose to move on to the next question. It would have to be her last.
Era leaned back in her chair, tapping her fingers lightly on the table. "Fine. Let's move on. Tell me about your power." Her eyes were sharp as they locked onto his.
Before the chairman could respond, Danny snorted and leaned forward, his arrogance returning in full force. "That wasn't part of the deal," he said smoothly, his baby-blue eyes gleaming. "The agreement was that your questions would concern H.V.N. existing knowledge and operations, not personal abilities."
Era's lips curved into a slow smile. "Exactly," she said, turning to him with mock sweetness. "And last I checked, the chairman of H.V.N. is very much part of H.V.N. Let's not split hairs over tiny details"
Danny's confidence faltered for a fraction of a second, but the woman to the chairman's right spoke before he could retort. "You're clever, I'll give you that," she said, her voice clipped and precise. "But cleverness can only get you so far. Let's not forget who's in control of this room."
Era didn't flinch. Her eyes returned to the chairman, and she tilted her head slightly. "So? Will you answer, or should I start guessing?"
The chairman's expression didn't change, but there was a glimmer of something in his eyes—amusement, perhaps. He opened his mouth to respond. " I'm sure Mira told you about divine restrictions. For that reason, I'll tell you all I can without breaking them. I am a blessed of Asterae. She is the most common gifter to members of H.V.N specifically. She has many known blessings: including enhance detection for lies, resistance to manipulation or physical enhancements. To follow along her path, requires adherence to her moral code. The egg timer and honesty to questions is related to that. " and with that, the timer stopped.
Era had already pieced most of that together herself, that had been a waste of a question. But at least now, it was confirmed—Asterae was no walk in the park. The cold energy that radiated from her during their meeting had made it clear. Now Era knew for certain: if she ever had to rely on Asterae's blessing for anything, it would be a complicated, joyless ordeal. A serious drawback, though it seemed the conditions that brought on such unrelenting divine scrutiny were specific. If she can figure out what triggers it, she'll have the upper hand next time. She shelved the thought for later.
Danny leaned forward, his golden hair catching the light as he smirked. "Our turn," he said, gesturing with a lazy wave of his hand. Despite his relaxed demeanor, his eyes gleamed with intensity. He was a predator in sheep's clothing, and Era wasn't about to let him sink his teeth into her. Still, she leaned back in her chair and gave a small nod of assent.
"Very well." she said. "I met four gods." She watched their expressions carefully as she continued. "Not all introduced themselves, but I believe I encountered Kaelith, Asterae, and two others. One was a goddess called Zyra, and the last…" she paused, studying their faces for any flicker of recognition, "remained unnamed. But I don't think he was any of the gods you mentioned previously."
The chairman's fingers steepled in front of him, his expression inscrutable, while the woman in the black suit's pen hovered above her notepad. She practically had them on the edges of their seat.
"The unnamed one sat upon a throne of crystals and gems," she continued. "His presence was... peculiar. Foreign, even among the gods. But I didn't have time to dwell on it. I was focused on survival. They were ready to wipe me from existence." She let the weight of her words hang in the air for a moment before continuing.
"I managed to convince them to spare me by offering entertainment." Era allowed herself a small, sly smile. "I proposed a bargain: any of the gods could create one of five trials for me to complete. If I succeed, they would grant me their blessing."
"And if you failed?" the woman in the suit asked, her tone sharp and analytical.
"Well, I believe they promised a fate worse then death."
"How did you come up with that?" the chairman asked, and as Era expected his question was the most difficult to answer. For some reason, Era wanted to keep Beira's existence and her riddle a secret. Maybe it was insurance, or maybe it was something else.
"I was helped by someone. I don't know their.." Era had planned on saying identity, but for some reason the word was stuck in her throat. The chairman watched her intently. This must be him. No matter, she couldn't lie, but she didn't have to be wholly honest either.
"She wasn't in the throne room like the others. I don't know what she is."
"Why did she help you?" he pressed her.
"I don't know for certain. It could be something to do with her ability, but I offered her a secret and in exchange she offered me a clue."
"What was the clue exactly." Danny pressed, edging forward.
"I think I've answered more than enough, don't you agree, chairman?" I asked. The chairman sighed, but nodded.
"Yes enough has been said. Your information has been valuable, and I believe with every trial you will learn more that would greatly benefit H.V.N. For that reason, I offer you my best minds and muscle to help prepare for your trials. I also recommend you visit our Keeper of the Books- Geoffrey of Monmouth. Perhaps, a browse through our history might provide the help you need. While you stay here, I will also personally ensure your protection. I hope this relationship will be a long and fruitful one, Era. I have a feeling you might just save us all"
The words, 'after condemning us' hung in the air clear as day.
"Likewise." Era replied plainly.
And suddenly, it dawned on her all at once. What mess had she gotten herself into? Cults, Apocalypses, Gods.
And from the looks of it, things were just getting started.