I barely had a moment to catch my breath between scribbling signatures and sifting through the endless labyrinth of paperwork that governed the Underworld. Hecate sat across from me, her concentration absolute as she muttered incantations under her breath, making the ink dry faster on the documents she reviewed. Just as I was about to voice my frustration about the sheer amount of bureaucracy in my own domain, Oizys entered the chamber, looking unnervingly hesitant.
I narrowed my eyes. "What is it, Oizys?"
"My Lord, you have a visitor," she said, voice quieter than usual. That alone set me on edge. Oizys rarely looked shaken. "He… is unlike any being I have ever encountered."
Hecate glanced up, curiosity flickering in her gaze before she turned back to her parchment, clearly deciding that I could handle whatever this was. I leaned back in my chair, sighing. "Bring them in."
She hesitated before nodding and disappearing through the doors. The silence that followed lasted only a moment before a heavy, resounding footstep echoed through the hall. Then another. And another.
A man strode in like he owned the place, laughter already rumbling in his throat before he even spoke. He was unlike anything I had expected. His skin was deep brown, gleaming as though kissed by the embers of a dying fire. Long, wild curls cascaded over his broad shoulders, framing a face carved with sharp, predatory angles. But it was his eyes that caught me first—black as the void with a luminous white iris, a third eye resting in the center of his forehead, blinking lazily as if assessing me separately from the other two. Horns curled from his temples, short but prominent, and his canines were sharper than any beast's. His hands, adorned with long black nails, tapped absentmindedly against his thigh as he surveyed the room.
The Underworld was not a place for strangers, yet here he was, making himself right at home as he whistled appreciatively. "By Nyx's shadows, Hades, you've done well for yourself."
I kept my expression blank, though my grip on my pen tightened. "I wasn't aware I was expecting company."
The man laughed—a deep, booming sound that seemed to shake the very foundations of my throne room. He collapsed into a chair across from me, stretching his arms over the backrest as if he were lounging on a cloud. "You weren't. But I couldn't resist the urge to visit. You've made quite the spectacle out of the Underworld."
My patience was already wearing thin. "Who are you?"
His grin widened. "Ah, where are my manners? My name is Tartarus."
Hecate's pen halted mid-stroke. The air grew colder. Even Oizys, who had remained at the doorway, seemed to shrink into herself. I stiffened, my fingers curling against the armrest of my chair.
"Tartarus," I echoed. "The Primordial Abyss?"
"The very same," he confirmed, flashing his fangs. "I've been watching you for quite a while, Hades."
I didn't like the way he said that. "For how long?"
Tartarus waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, you know. Since you killed Kampe."
A muscle in my jaw twitched. That had been eons ago. If he had been watching me since then, that meant he had been observing my rule, my choices, and the evolution of my domain for far longer than I was comfortable with.
"Why are you here?" I demanded.
Tartarus leaned forward, his smirk dimming slightly. "Because, dear nephew, I have a gift for you."
I felt a headache forming. "I am not your nephew."
"Technicalities." He waved me off. "You rule over the dead, but there is a part of my realm that needs a proper keeper. I've decided that keeper should be you."
I frowned. "Your realm?"
"The Pit." His three eyes gleamed. "I want you to have it."
The words hung in the air, thick and suffocating. Hecate placed her quill down, folding her hands in her lap as she observed the conversation with keen interest. I, on the other hand, felt my irritation spike into something more lethal.
"No."
Tartarus blinked, then let out a bark of laughter. "Oh, come now, Hades! Don't be so hasty."
"I said no." I met his gaze head-on. "The Pit is yours, Tartarus. I have no interest in ruling over it."
Tartarus groaned dramatically, throwing his head back. "I knew you'd be stubborn about this. Look, hear me out—ruling over the Pit isn't all doom and gloom. You get dominion over the Abyss, the demons, the monsters—"
"I already have enough responsibilities."
"—and, honestly, I'm tired of dealing with it." He grumbled under his breath. "You try being the prison warden for eternity and see how much you enjoy it."
"I did not ask for this."
"Well, too bad!" Tartarus leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His third eye narrowed. "You're already doing half the work anyway. The souls that end up in the Pit? Your domain. The creatures that crawl from it? Your concern. Might as well make it official."
I scowled. "If you think I will take this burden off your hands simply because you wish to retire—"
"Ah-ah." He wagged a finger. "It's not just a burden, dear nephew. It's an opportunity. One that you don't get to refuse."
The conversation continued for hours, each argument met with another complaint, every refusal met with more insistent reasoning. Tartarus whined, cajoled, and even flattered me—none of which worked. But in the end, Tartarus seemed to give up as he sighed and stood as he raised a hand.
"Well, I guess I couldn't convince you." He sighed. "I'll see you some other time."
"Yeah, sorry about it. Just not interested in more work." I stood and reached over to shake his hand when he grasped my hand in this tight grip as he grinned at me. "Don't you dare!"
"Too late."
A sharp pain bloomed in my chest. I inhaled sharply, feeling a shift in my realm as I could feel it merging with Tartarus as the realm started to shake before calming down, I could feel my veins burning as my divinity was changed once again.
Tartarus finally released my hand as he clapped his hands together. "There we go! Now, was that so bad?"
I exhaled slowly, staring at my hands as if expecting them to be different. My lip curled.
"You tricked me."
"I persuaded you." Tartarus grinned. "Now, as your dear, beloved uncle, I believe I'm entitled to a residence here, don't you think?"
I pinched the bridge of my nose. This was going to be a long eternity.
<------------------>
I stood in silence, my arms crossed as I watched Brontes and the other Cyclopes toil alongside my countless undead helpers. The once chaotic, endless void of the Pit was steadily transforming under their labor. Structures rose from the abyss, solidifying Tartarus into something resembling a true domain rather than just an eternal prison.
The latest construction—Tartarus's new home—was finally complete. My so-called uncle had dramatically dubbed it the 'Tomb of Tartarus.' A ridiculous and ironic name, considering the entity it was meant for could never truly be buried. The building loomed before me, a towering fortress of black stone, adorned with jagged spires that clawed at the sky. The entire structure seemed to hum with a presence, pulsing like a living thing, its very essence tied to the Pit's dark energies.
Tartarus stood at the entrance, admiring the work. He clapped his hands together, a grin splitting his face. "Excellent work, everyone! Keep it up. This place is finally starting to feel like home."
I scoffed under my breath. Only he would find comfort in a place like this. Without another word, he sauntered inside, disappearing into his fortress.
Brontes and Arges approached, wiping soot and dust from their faces. Brontes let out a heavy sigh, glancing back at the ongoing work. "What's next, Lord Hades?"
I rubbed my chin, considering the next steps. "We need to organize the Pit properly. No more chaos. I want distinct regions set up. Hecate has already selected the best place for the demons to move into, so that's settled." I pointed toward an area in the distance, still jagged and raw. "Over there, we'll construct a city. A proper home for the monsters, something more than just scattered dens and caves."
Arges nodded. "A city? That's ambitious."
"They deserve better," I replied simply. "We'll also need to redirect Phlegethon."
Brontes frowned. "You want to move the river?"
"Yes. The nymph in charge of it can help. If we redirect its path through these regions," I gestured at a rough map forming in my mind, "we can create more forests and wildlands. Give the creatures a place to thrive rather than just survive."
The Cyclopes exchanged glances, but neither argued. They knew better than to challenge my decisions when I had my mind set on something.
I exhaled, feeling the weight of the task ahead. "I'll work out the rest later. For now, just focus on those tasks." I yawned, rolling my shoulders as fatigue set in. I had spent too much time down here already.
I turned to leave, but before I could take more than a few steps, a familiar voice called out from behind me.
"Hard at work as always, I see."
I turned to find Hecate standing at the edge of the construction site, arms crossed, a knowing smirk on her lips. The sorceress had a habit of appearing exactly when I was ready to collapse from exhaustion.
"Hecate," I greeted, stretching slightly. "What brings you here?"
She tilted her head. "Curiosity, mostly. You've been pouring all your energy into this project. I wanted to see the progress for myself." Her gaze flicked toward the newly constructed city plans and diverted rivers. "It's impressive. You're reshaping the Pit into something entirely new."
"That's the idea," I admitted. "It's long overdue."
She studied me for a moment before her smirk softened. "And when was the last time you actually took a moment to rest?"
I waved a hand dismissively. "I'll rest when it's done."
Hecate rolled her eyes. "Typical. You've been running yourself ragged, Hades. How about this—you take a break, and I promise not to nag you for at least a week."
I raised a brow. "Tempting offer."
She smiled. "Come with me. I could use your help with something back at the castle."
Curious, I followed her through the Underworld, shadows parting in our wake until we arrived at my castle. She led me to one of the grand study chambers, where an assortment of scrolls, sketches, and strange materials lay scattered across a massive wooden table.
"I've been working on a place for my Coven," she explained, rolling out a large parchment. "I've granted a select group of mortals the ability to wield magic, and I want to create a sanctuary for them—a place where they can study the arcane and refine their abilities under my guidance."
I studied the designs. The cave she envisioned was vast, built deep within the Underworld, its walls enchanted to pulse with the magic of the realm itself. Ancient sigils would be inscribed into the stone, ensuring protection and secrecy. There were chambers for spellcraft, libraries for forbidden knowledge, and an entire wing dedicated to ritual work.
"It's ambitious," I said, tracing a section of the plan with my finger. "You'll need a steady power source if you want these enchantments to hold."
She nodded. "I was thinking of channeling energy from Nyx's domain. The primordial darkness would be a perfect conduit."
I considered it, then nodded. "That could work. And you'll need a protective barrier—something that keeps out unwanted visitors but allows those you deem worthy to pass freely."
She grinned. "Exactly why I wanted your input."
For the next few hours, we worked side by side, refining the details, debating over the finer points of magical theory, and arguing over the aesthetics of the structure itself. Hecate insisted on incorporating floating lanterns that responded to the presence of magic, while I suggested incorporating obsidian pillars that could amplify spellwork.
"You do realize this is my Coven's sanctuary, not a fortress, right?" she teased.
I smirked. "No reason it can't be both."
By the time we were finished, the foundation of something truly remarkable had been laid. Hecate sat back, stretching her arms above her head. "This is going to be incredible."
I nodded, rubbing the exhaustion from my eyes. "It will. And it'll give your mortals a chance to thrive here, under your guidance."
She glanced at me, something unreadable in her expression. "You don't think it's a mistake? Bringing mortals into the Underworld permanently?"
I shook my head. "If anyone can shape them into something worthy of the realm, it's you."
A slow smile spread across her lips. "That almost sounded like a compliment."
I couldn't help but look up at her, she sat cross-legged on the edge of the desk, her black dress flowing like ink around her. She glanced through one of the scrolls, her violet eyes scanning it with the precision of a hawk.
When she finally rolled up the last scroll and set it aside, I pushed my chair back, groaning as I stretched.
"If I write another word, I think my hand might fall off," I said, flexing my fingers.
She laughed softly. "You're the King of the Underworld, Hades. Surely you can enchant a pen to write for you."
"I could," I said, standing and stretching again, "but where's the satisfaction in that?"
Her lips quivered into a smile, and for a moment, I found myself admiring the way her violet eyes sparkled in the dim light. There was something magnetic about her—a sharp mind, an unshakable confidence, and a grace that seemed effortless.
"Hecate," I said, stepping closer, "how would you feel about visiting the Garden with me?"
She blinked, her composure faltering for a split second. "The Garden? Isn't that where all the young souls go to—" She paused, then cleared her throat. "Is this... a date?"
I chuckled. "It could be. If you'd like it to be."
Her cheeks flushed the faintest shade of pink, though she quickly masked it with a nonchalant shrug. "I suppose I could be persuaded."
I laughed softly and held out my hand. "Consider yourself persuaded."
She hesitated for a moment, then placed her hand in mine. With a thought, I summoned the shadows around us, and in the blink of an eye, we were standing at the entrance to the Garden.
The garden was a masterpiece of life and death intertwined. While the Styx and the Sakura trees make up the Hirosaki Park version. I have taken to creating the rest like the Butchart Garden. Hecate looked around, her lips parting in surprise. "It's... really beautiful."
"Of course it is," I said, guiding her down a winding path. "It's meant to remind the souls that even in death, there is beauty to be found. Who would think that everyone would actually like it this much."
We walked in comfortable silence for a while, the distant sound of the Styx's currents blending with the soft hum of the garden. Eventually, we came across a stone bench beneath a flowering tree whose blossoms glowed with an ethereal light.
Hecate plucked one of the blossoms, turning it over in her hands. "You never told me you were sentimental."
"Sentimental?" I repeated, raising an eyebrow.
"This garden," she said, gesturing around us. "It's not just a place for the souls to relax. It's... a sanctuary. You made it for them."
I shrugged. "When I took over the Underworld it was a mess, I wanted to make it as beautiful or maybe even more beautiful than any other garden in the world."
She smiled, a soft, genuine smile that caught me off guard. "You're not what I expected, Hades."
"Is that a compliment or an insult?" I teased.
"Both," she said, laughing.
We spent the next hour wandering the garden, talking about everything and nothing. I showed her the grove where I took to grow these beautiful pomegranates that had quite the juicy seeds in them, and she told me about her favorite places to practice magic. At one point, we ended up near the lake, where she challenged me to skip stones across the water.
For the record, I was just a little... out of practice.
As the night wore on, the garden grew quieter, the souls gradually retreating to their respective corners of the Underworld. Hecate and I returned to the stone bench, sitting side by side beneath the glowing tree.
"This was... nice," she said softly, her gaze fixed on the stars.
"I agree," I said, turning to look at her. "Though I can think of one thing that would make it better."
She turned to face me, her brow furrowing. "And what's that?"
I leaned closer, and before I could second-guess myself, she closed the distance, her lips brushing against mine. The kiss was soft, hesitant, but it sent a warmth coursing through me that even the fires of Tartarus couldn't match.
When she pulled away, her cheeks were flushed, but there was a playful glint in her eyes. "You're lucky I think you're cute," she said, her voice teasing.
I laughed, leaning back against the bench. "Oh, trust me, Hecate—I know."