Hades- The King of the Gods

What was it like… to be dead?

Honestly, I don't know what I expected. I mean, I'd read a lot about the afterlife—religions, myths, near-death experiences, all that stuff. I thought maybe there'd be a tunnel of light. Or a golden gate. Or fire and brimstone. Maybe I'd wake up in a field full of flowers with some glowing figure welcoming me to the other side. Or maybe I'd be dragged down screaming by demons. I don't know. Something.

But not… this.

Not nothing.

Because that's where I ended up.

Nowhere.

Just... darkness all around me.

No sky. No ground. No air, really. Just me, floating—or maybe standing?—in a place without shape or color or sound. A place that wasn't a place. And I couldn't even tell if time was passing. It felt like a second and a thousand years at the same time. Do you ever try to count your own thoughts when you're stuck in silence? It gets old fast.

So yeah. Limbo. I guess that's what this was. Some kind of in-between space. Not Heaven. Not Hell. Not even some cool Greek Underworld with rivers and gates and monsters. Just emptiness.

And it sucked.

I mean it. It really sucked. I don't say that lightly.

No voices. No other souls drifted by. No mysterious robed figure keeping watch. Nothing. Just this empty void and the hum of my own thoughts, slowly starting to loop like a broken record.

And hey, remember that angel of death I saw? That shadowy figure standing there in the storm, watching me just before I got hit? Yeah, well... he was gone. Just disappeared. Like he was never there to begin with.

So I waited.

And waited.

Tried calling out at one point. Just to see if anything or anyone would answer. I yelled. I screamed. I cursed. I begged. But my voice didn't echo. Didn't even sound right. It was like shouting into a pillow that swallowed every word.

There were no doors. No paths. No choices.

Just me. And the growing fear that maybe this was it.

Maybe this was what death really looked like. Not fire. Not clouds. Not peace or punishment. Just... being forgotten. Floating forever in a place where nothing happens and no one remembers you were ever alive.

I hated it.

And the worst part?

I didn't even know if I deserved it.

I didn't think I was a bad person. Not really. I didn't steal. I didn't hurt anyone. Sure, I wasn't perfect—I wasted time, kept to myself, probably didn't live as boldly as I should've—but I saved someone. I saved Lia. I gave my life for her.

Didn't that count for something?

Didn't that mean anything?

Apparently not. Because here I was. Alone.

Dead.

And honestly? More confused than ever.

So I started wondering if this was some kind of test. Or maybe a punishment not for what I did, but for what I didn't do. For not living the life I was meant to live. For never chasing the things I believed in.

I don't know.

All I knew was that I didn't want this to be the end.

There had to be more.

There had to be.

And just when I was about to give up—when the silence started sinking into my bones—something changed.

Then, I feel it.

A pressure. A weight.

Something... watching me.

At first, I try to ignore it, but the sensation clings like cobwebs, crawling across my skin, prickling my neck. I feel the urge to speak—to shout—to tear through the silence.

"Enough games," I say, my voice echoing in the dark. "I know you're there. You've been watching me. Come out."

The void shudders.

Like a ripple through a curtain of velvet darkness, the air folds in on itself. A tear splits open, jagged and glowing with stars. Fingers, long and delicate, but impossibly vast, stretch through the rip in reality. They shimmer like they're made of the night sky itself—nebulae swirling in their joints, galaxies orbiting their knuckles.

They pull.

The tear widened.

From the breach steps a being. Towering. Shattered. Terrifying in its alien majesty. I stare up, frozen, my existence shrinking to nothing beneath her gaze. She is shaped vaguely like a woman, but that's like calling a hurricane a breeze. Her form is jagged and crystalline, shards of translucent darkness jutting from her body like broken glass suspended in void. Within her fractured skin pulse swirling nebulae and dying suns, flickering between the cracks. Her eyes burn like twin collapsing stars, and her hair drifts around her in writhing strands of obsidian crystal dust, scraping against reality itself as she moves.

She sees me—really sees me—and smiles.

"Ah," she says. Her voice is like wind through trees and the chorus of whales singing across galaxies. "You noticed. Not many do."

"Hard not to," I manage. "when you seemed to be staring daggers at me."

She chuckles, delighted. "You're quite the interesting human. Quite different than most."

She lowers herself, shrinking as if the very fabric of reality kneels to her will. Her cosmic form condenses until she stands before me as a young woman, no taller than I am, with long white hair tied into a loose over-shoulder ponytail. Her face is youthful, but ageless, framed by silver bangs. She wore a simple hoodie and pajama shorts.

The darkness around us melts away, replaced by the warm glow of a crackling hearth. A cozy, old-world living room unfurls around us. Wooden beams overhead. Bookshelves sagging with ancient tomes. Two plush couches angled toward each other. The scent of tea and pine.

She gestures to the couch across from her as she sits down cross legged pulling a pillow to her lap. "Please. Sit."

I hesitated for only a second before sinking into the cushions. They were impossibly soft—like sun-warmed clouds cradling my tired body.

She watched me with an unreadable gaze, hugging a pillow to her chest. "You really are… quite fascinating," she murmured, tilting her head slightly.

I shifted uncomfortably under her stare. "I'm sorry, but… who are you?"

For a moment, silence stretched between us, broken only by the quiet crackle of the hearth fire. Then she laughed—softly at first, but the sound rippled outwards, echoing beyond the walls of the room into some deeper darkness I couldn't see.

"Does it truly matter right now?" she said, her smile gentle but distant. "Names hold little meaning here. For now, just think of me as… simply none other than Veritas."

"Alright...." I frowned, glancing around at the cozy living room, the glow of the flames flickering across her silver bangs and pale skin. "Anyways… this isn't what I expected," I admitted, gesturing vaguely to everything around us.

She tucked her legs beneath her, her expression thoughtful. "It helps you process. Humans respond well to warmth, safety, and comfort. This setting… it eases your mind enough to listen."

A quiet chuckle slipped from my lips despite everything. "Yeah… you're not wrong."

She studied me silently for a moment, her eyes reflecting the dancing light of the fire, before steepling her fingers under her chin.

"You're wondering why you're here. Why I'm interested in you," she said softly.

I swallowed, throat tight. "Yeah… you said I was… interesting. Why?"

Her gaze sharpened, a flicker of sadness crossing her face.

"Because," she said quietly, "you shouldn't exist."

I blink again. "Well that's reassuring."

"Don't misunderstand," she says gently. "It's not an insult. It's a curiosity. You are dead, have been dead for several years now. Though it probably has felt like mere moments for you. And yet here you are, still conscious and aware of what is happening around you."

I feel something cold settle in my gut. "So this is the afterlife?"

Veritas' smile turns wistful. "No, not really. This place does not really exist in any plane of existance. You, a mere mortal found htere ways through the tear in reality and ended up in the void, where all things go to be forgotten."

I felt my hands trembling in my lap, a sick, suffocating dread rising in my chest. "How long… how long have I been like this?"

Veritas regarded me for a moment, her ageless gaze filled with quiet sadness. "Thirty years."

The words struck like a hammer. Thirty years.

"What about… what about the others? The people who were with me at the temple. Did they… survive?"

Veritas tilted her head slightly, her silver-white lashes casting shadows across her cheeks. "Yes," she said softly. "They survived. The rescue teams found them within hours. Your friend Ethan… he lived for many years after, though he passed away some time ago. Peacefully. The other two girls moved on with their lives. One is married now, with children. The other travels often, seeking meaning in every corner of your world."

Relief flooded my chest, mingled with a quiet, aching grief. Ethan was gone. The girls had moved on. Life kept moving forward, even when mine had ended.

"And… Lia?" I asked, my voice cracking despite my efforts to keep it steady. "What about… Lia?"

For the first time, Veritas' gaze softened into something almost human—tender and sad all at once.

"She never forgot you," she said gently. "Not for a single day. After the accident, she dedicated herself to your dream. To the future you always spoke about. She became both a scientist and a mythologist of growing renown."

A flicker of warmth sparked in my hollow chest, wrapping around my ribs like a fleeting embrace.

But Veritas wasn't finished.

"She's on the verge of something extraordinary," she continued, her voice growing quiet, almost reverent. "Right now, she is close to translating the very language of the gods, and in doing so she is going to find information that speaks of a catastrophe yet to come. A discovery that could change the course of history itself."

My heart twisted, the warmth replaced by an icy chill that crawled up my spine. "A… catastrophe?" I whispered.

Veritas nodded solemnly, the endless light in her eyes dimming like dying stars. "Yes," she said quietly. "A catastrophe unlike anything your world has ever witnessed."

I swallowed hard. The air felt heavy around us, pressing into my chest. "What kind of catastrophe… are we talking about?"

She sat in silence for a long moment, as if weighing whether I even deserved an answer. Finally, she spoke, her voice softer than before—almost reverent, almost afraid.

"Long ago, before your world ever knew gods or men, something emerged from the void between realities. A creature born of chaos and endless hunger. It called itself the Great Devourer—a being that defied all laws of existence. A wyrm of corruption and consumption. It devoured worlds, feeding upon entire galaxies, growing ever larger with each feast."

My blood ran cold. "And… the gods… stopped it?"

She tilted her head, silver hair shifting like liquid starlight. "They did what they could. All the gods—Greek, Norse, Egyptian, Hindu, pantheons your world has forgotten, and even those it never knew—they united, combining their power to seal the Devourer away. But it came at a cost."

I frowned. "A cost?"

Veritas' gaze met mine, and I saw a flicker of something ancient and mournful in her eyes. "They knew they could never destroy it. Only contain it. So they poured the last of their power into creating a failsafe—a crystal unlike anything in the universe. A fragment of divine essence imbued with all their remaining will and wisdom."

My heart began to pound as her words sank in. "The… crystal?"

She nodded slowly. "Yes. The crystal your team found in the temple… the one whose shard now resides within you. That crystal is me. I am Veritas, the last remnant of the gods' power. They created me to act as a false god—a guardian and guide to keep balance in their absence, to stand watch over the seals holding back the Devourer."

I stared at her, my mind reeling. The room felt suddenly too small, too bright, too unreal. "So… you're… you're the crystal itself."

"Yes," she whispered. "And now, a shard of me lies within your soul, binding you to this place—neither alive nor dead. But that tether also means you can hear me… see me… and perhaps, in time, wield me."

I shook my head, breath ragged. "And… the Devourer… it's still trapped?"

"For now," she said, her voice dropping to a hush so quiet I had to strain to hear. "But the seals are weakening. When Halley's Comet returns, its passing will disrupt the seals' bindings. The Devourer will awaken… and there will be nothing left to stop it."

I felt my stomach twist into a hard knot as icy dread seeped through my veins. A silent, choking terror settled in my chest as the truth swallowed me whole.

"Why… why are you telling me this?" I whispered.

Veritas' gaze burned with solemn purpose, bright as the dying light of ancient suns. "Because, Nathaniel… with the gods gone, nothing will hold it back."

I swallowed hard, my throat tight and dry. "What… what happened to the gods?"

Veritas' eyes dimmed, the silver light within them flickering like dying embers. For the first time since I met her, she looked almost… sad.

"They're gone," she said quietly. "When they created me—the crystal—they poured every last drop of their divinity into its making. Their essence, their power, their very souls… all fused together to create a failsafe strong enough to bind the Devourer. It was their final act. Their final sacrifice."

I stared at her, shaking my head. "But… gods can't just die. They're immortal."

Her lips curved into a sorrowful smile. "Immortal does not mean invincible. They were beings of vast power, yes, but even they were bound by laws deeper than fate. To create me… they relinquished everything. Their thrones, their realms, their lives. They became one with the crystal, their existence dissolved into its core."

Silence pressed between us, thick and suffocating. My chest felt like it was caving in. The gods… all the myths I loved, the legends I studied, the stories I clung to for meaning—they were gone. Truly gone.

I stood up, pacing now. The room shifted slightly with every step, as if the dreamlike realm bent to my emotions. "What if... what if I went back? To the past? I could warn them. Help them prepare. Maybe even convince the gods to work together and prevent this whole thing."

She tilted her head. "Interesting. Risky. But it's interesting."

"You said that you were made from the divinity of tghe gods, so does that mean you have enough to send me back?"

Veritas pondered this for a few minutes, then nodded. "Yes. I could send you to a time, but I cannot choose who you become or how far back you end up. You could be a human. A demigod. A monster. Even a god. I can not control the outcome when I am fully myself."

My heart pounded. "A gamble. But one I'll take. Hell, maybe I'll get lucky."

She chuckled. "Ambitious."

"This might be my only shot to make a difference. Let's do it."

She stood and raised her hand. In it, a small glowing sphere of light formed. A spindle of golden threads encased it, and it pulsed like a heartbeat.

Then came the needle. A simple silver needle one could use to sew. "Give me your hand."

I did.

She pricked my finger gently, and a single drop of blood fell into the orb. It shimmered, then flashed through an array of different colors.

"What is that?" I asked.

"This," she said, "contains every life that matches your soul. Every existence you are compatible to be reborn as, these are all your past ancestors."

"This might be my only shot to make a difference," I whispered, clenching my fists. "Let's do it."

She smiled faintly and rose to her feet. With a flick of her wrist, a small sphere appeared above her palm. It hovered there, spinning slowly. At first, it looked like a simple orb of light, but as it turned, I saw that it was wrapped in intricate golden filaments—like an egg encased in endless spider silk. Within, shadows and lights pulsed together in a rhythm that felt like the heartbeat of something ancient.

Then, in her other hand, appeared a needle. Plain. Silver. Almost mundane compared to the cosmic orb it accompanied.

"Give me your hand," she murmured.

I hesitated, but obeyed. She took it gently, almost tenderly, then pricked the tip of my finger. A single drop of blood welled up, crimson against my pale skin, before it fell into the glowing sphere.

Instantly, the orb shivered. Colors rippled through it—violet, azure, gold, obsidian—like oil on water under a dying sun.

"What… what is that?" I breathed.

"This," she said, her eyes glinting with starlight, "contains every life your soul resonates with. Every possible existence you could be reborn into. These are not just ancestors. They are your echoes across the tapestry of creation."

I swallowed, feeling my heart hammer against my ribs. "So… do I just… pick one?"

She let out a laugh that felt like the shattering of ice across a silent lake. "Pick? Oh, no. That's not how this works."

She stepped back, rolling her shoulders like a predator coiling to strike. "The choice is left to the Fates," she said, her grin wicked and gleaming. Then, without warning, she wound her arm back and hurled the glowing orb straight at my chest.

I barely had time to flinch. The sphere struck me dead center, and in that instant, everything exploded.

It was like being hit by a freight train made of light. My body snapped backward, my vision fracturing into shards of spinning color. I felt weightless and crushingly heavy at the same time as reality twisted around me. The room, the couches, even Veritas herself—all of it shrank away, dissolving into an endless blur.

I caught a glimpse of myself still sitting there, slack-jawed and empty-eyed, before darkness crawled across my sight like ink spreading in water.

And then—light. Blinding, consuming, endless. I surged forward, yanked toward it with impossible speed as if I was going into hyperdrive.

And just as suddenly, I stopped— and when I opened my eyes to find myself in the arms of a beautiful woman. My body felt strange—smaller, softer. I glanced down and saw tiny hands. I was a baby.

The woman holding me looked exhausted but radiant, her golden hair damp with sweat and clinging to her face. Her emerald eyes sparkled as she gazed down at me with a mixture of love and exhaustion. Around us, several young girls scurried about, speaking in hurried, anxious tones. They were removing a basin of golden, inchor-streaked water and laying out towels.

Their words sounded strange, foreign, yet familiar. It took a moment, but soon I realized they were speaking Ancient Greek. It took a bit before I realized that I could understand everything that they were saying. As they worked, one of the girls leaned over to the woman holding me. "My Queen, have you decided on his name?" she asked softly.

The woman smiled weakly, brushing a finger across my cheek. "Yes. Hades," she whispered. "My little Aidoneus."

The woman looked down at me with so much love that I couldn't help but smile. Rhea truly cared for her children. You know, maybe this wouldn't be so bad, I thought to myself.

I should have known better than to even think that.

The heavy bronze doors groaned open with a sound like ancient thunder. From the shadows beyond stepped a tall figure—lithe and elegant, yet imposing in a way that made the very air seem to retreat. His skin was pale like polished ash, and his black hair flowed behind him like oil spilled over glass. But it was his eyes that stole the breath from the room: golden, burning, ancient. Like they had watched stars die and hadn't blinked.

His black toga shimmered faintly with threads of starlight, draping over a frame that was deceptively slender but crackled with unseen power. Sandaled feet moved without sound across the marble floor, yet each step felt like the toll of a distant war drum.

Rhea, the woman cradling me, tensed. Her smile faltered, replaced by a pale tightness in her jaw. I felt her arms wrap tighter around my tiny body, her breath swallowing as if preparing for battle. She looked up at him—not with love, but with dread.

"Cronus…" she breathed, her voice trembling like a leaf in the wind.

He did not respond. His gaze was locked on me, golden and piercing, as though he could already see the path I would walk—the shadows, the fire, the crown.

He stopped in front of us and extended his arms. "Give me the child," he commanded, voice smooth and hollow, like stone siding over stone.

Rhea didn't move. Her grip tightened around me. "Please," she whispered, her voice cracking.

Still, he said nothing. The silence stretched until it became unbearable.

Then, with visible reluctance, she surrendered to me. Her hands lingered a moment too long on my skin, trembling, before finally letting go.

I expected fury. I expected the wide maw, the abyss of his throat, the end.

But instead… he held me.

He studied me with that same unreadable gaze for a long moment. Then, in one swift motion, he lifted me high above his head, his golden eyes alight with something I couldn't place.

And then—he laughed.

A deep, resonant laugh that echoed through the chamber like rolling thunder. It wasn't cruel or mocking. It was… joyous. Reverent, even.

"Look at you," Cronus boomed. "My firstborn son. My blood, my heir! Born of Queen Rhea and destined for greatness."

I blinked, utterly confused. What?

"You have your mother's stillness," he said, lowering me slightly to study me more closely. "But there is fire in those eyes. You will not be weak. No… I see power in you. Mark me—this one will change the world."

Rhea's eyes welled with tears. Whether from relief or something deeper, I couldn't say.

I, on the other hand, was spiraling. I'd read the myths. I knew the story. Cronus devoured his children, terrified of the prophecy that one would overthrow him. So why did he seem so… proud? So accepting?

Why wasn't I already in his stomach?

Cronus cradled me in one arm and turned to Rhea with a grin like a blade. "Let it be known: my son Hades has entered the world of the living. And he will accomplish wonders."

The room was silent. Even the wind beyond the palace had stopped, as if the world itself was holding its breath.

And all I could think was: What the hell is going on?

This wasn't how the story was supposed to go.