Chapter 250: Chapter 8
The Olympians stood upon the boundless emerald field that stretched beneath the radiant sky, each god and goddess cloaked in their own divine aura that shimmered like starlight against the horizon.
The air itself seemed to hold its breath, thick with tension, divinity, and an ancient familiarity that none dared to break.
Zeus stood at the forefront, his golden hair gleaming beneath the sunlight, his robe of pure white fluttering gently in the faint wind, while behind him stood the rest of the Twelve.
Poseidon with his trident glinting like the depths of the sea.
Metis calm and composed with her sharp, analytical gaze.
Athena bearing her sealed divinity but still radiating wisdom.
Apollo and Artemis standing like mirrored day and night, and the others each carrying the weight of their own domain and legend.
A faint tremor rippled across the ground, subtle at first, then growing into a deep, resonant hum that seemed to shake the very fabric of reality.
From the edges of the field, a deep violet mist began to coil and unfurl, snaking across the grass like living silk, its hue darkening the daylight until all around them was bathed in twilight’s glow.
The air turned cold, resonating with a faint whisper, an ancient chant from the depths of the Underworld itself, and before the gathered deities, the earth cracked open.
From within that crevice, a colossal gate began to materialize, formed of black obsidian and silver veins that pulsed faintly like the heartbeat of the cosmos.
The scent of the Styx filled the air, deathly yet majestic, oppressive yet divine.
The Olympians watched as the gates slowly, almost ceremoniously, parted with a low groan that sounded like the sigh of eternity.
Through the widening gap stepped a familiar figure, slender, graceful, her presence rippling with the calm majesty of the oceans.
Her long hair flowed like liquid sapphire, her eyes serene as the deep sea, her every movement carrying the weight of quiet confidence.
Zeus’s eyes widened in disbelief, while Poseidon’s brows furrowed in surprise.
"Thetis?" Zeus muttered, unable to hide the astonishment in his voice.
Indeed, it was Thetis, the daughter of Nereus, the water goddess who had once been bound by prophecy and nearly imprisoned by their own hands to avert the doom she was said to bring.
She had vanished into the Underworld alongside Hades long ago, and now here she stood, calm, radiant, and entirely at ease.
Thetis inclined her head politely, her soft smile serene but not without a touch of amusement.
She remembered well the fear and despair that had once surrounded her name, the way Zeus and Poseidon had planned to seal her fate, yet as years passed in the Underworld, she found something akin to peace, and purpose.
Serving under Hecate, she had found meaning far greater than the hollow reverence of Olympus.
Sometimes, when she thought of the life she had now, she almost wanted to thank those two arrogant brothers, for if not for their fear, she would never have discovered the tranquility she now cherished.
Her smile deepened, though her words remained poised and formal.
"Welcome, Olympians," she said, her voice clear and melodic, echoing faintly in the vast field. "Lord Hades has been expecting you. Please, if you would be so kind, follow me."
She extended an elegant hand toward the yawning gates of the Underworld.
For a moment, Zeus said nothing. His pride warred with disbelief, but in the end, he merely gave a curt nod and stepped forward, his expression unreadable.
Behind him, Poseidon exchanged a brief glance with Metis, who smiled faintly, her clever eyes already assessing every detail of the gate’s design, the magic that sustained it, and perhaps even the will behind it.
Athena, still draped in her travel-worn garments, sighed inwardly but followed quietly, ignoring the curious looks from Apollo and Hermes.
Artemis walked alongside her twin, who hummed a light tune as though to mask his unease, while Ares and Hephaestus marched silently, their expressions guarded.
Dionysus swayed a little, half-amused and half-dreadful, clutching a golden cup that never emptied, while Astraea’s eyes gleamed with quiet curiosity as she observed the ethereal mist parting before them.
One by one, the gods crossed the threshold of the Underworld.
As they did, the air shifted, warm light dimmed into cool twilight, and the fragrance of mortal air was replaced by the faint scent of starlight upon obsidian.
Behind them, Thetis lingered for a moment, watching the Olympians disappear into the gate, her calm expression touched with a wistful smile.
"Well, I thought I’d be more angry seeing them once again...turns out I’m all over it already," she murmured to herself, then gracefully followed them inside.
As soon as her foot passed the threshold, the great gates began to close, the violet mist coiling tighter and tighter until it folded back into itself, vanishing from the mortal plane as though it had never been.
The vast field once more lay silent, empty, untouched, save for a faint shimmer of residual divine energy that whispered of where gods had once stood.
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Far below, in the deepest heart of the Underworld, within the fortress of Hades, suspended above the city of Nox, Hades sat upon his throne of blackened onyx, surrounded by the silent glow of ancient runes that floated through the air like drifting fireflies.
His expression was calm, composed, yet his presence filled the entire hall with a power that seemed to eclipse even the concept of light itself.
For a long moment, he remained motionless, his gaze lowered in deep thought, until at last his eyelids fluttered open.
Twin orbs of amethyst light met the darkness, eyes so deep that one could see entire galaxies reflected within them, eyes that seemed to pierce through veils of time, space, and destiny itself.
A faint smile touched his lips, serene yet filled with the gravity of eternity.
"So," he murmured, his voice echoing softly through the vast chamber, reverberating like a whisper through the cosmos itself. "They have arrived."
He leaned slightly back upon his throne, his fingers curling over the dark armrest carved with constellations unseen by mortal skies.
"Then," he continued, the faintest note of anticipation coloring his tone, "let the meeting begin."
And as his words faded into the void, the great hall of his fortress trembled in acknowledgment, for even the shadows themselves bowed before the will of their king.
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The Olympians blinked against the sudden shift in their surroundings, their feet no longer upon the soft grass of the upper world, but standing upon the polished deck of a colossal wooden ark that floated soundlessly through the air.
The wood was black as polished obsidian yet shimmered faintly with veins of silver light, carved with intricate sigils of binding and eternity that glowed softly under the divine radiance of its passengers.
Around them, mists parted to reveal a sight so grand, so vividly alive, that even the oldest gods found themselves momentarily robbed of words.
Below the ark stretched an endless city, vast and magnificent, filled not with silence and death as they had imagined, but with vibrant energy and life.
The avenues gleamed with luminous stones that shone like the constellations of the night sky, bridges arched elegantly over rivers of silver light, and spires of black crystal rose toward the heavens, adorned with flowing banners woven from pure divine essence.
Countless spirits moved through the streets, not as tormented souls, but as content citizens of an empire unlike any the gods of Olympus had ever conceived.
There were gardens blooming with flowers that shimmered faintly with the glow of memories, waterfalls cascading in spirals of starlight, and colossal statues depicting forgotten gods who had once ruled the earth.
It was a world that pulsed with divine vitality, majestic, solemn, and yet somehow comforting.
A true aradise of the dead.
Hermes, who had long ferried souls to the Underworld, stood speechless, his golden eyes wide in disbelief.
"This... this is the realm of the dead?" he murmured, his voice half-awe, half-reverence. "I thought it would be all dark and gloomy, not... this."
Ares crossed his arms, his expression equal parts confusion and grudging admiration.
"I’ve seen mortal kings build cities that reached the clouds, but this..." He trailed off, unable to find a fitting comparison.
Even he, who rarely appreciated anything that wasn’t forged in battle, could not deny the sheer grandeur of the sight before them.
Hestia pressed a gentle hand to her heart, her warm eyes taking in the countless souls who moved with peace and purpose.
No matter how many times she watched these scenes, she couldn’t help but admire how her brother rule the dead and spirits.
Zeus and Poseidon, standing side by side at the helm of the ark, could only stare in silence.
Their divine auras flared slightly, as though trying to resist the unspoken truth in their hearts, that what lay before them dwarfed even the glories of Olympus and the depths of the sea.
Poseidon’s coral palaces and Zeus’s marble temples, grand as they were, felt crude and small compared to the majesty that unfurled beneath them.
This was no mere city, it was civilization perfected, the seamless blend of life, death, and eternity.
As the ark continued its smooth voyage through the skies, the Olympians’ attention was drawn forward, to the horizon where the mists of the Underworld parted to reveal something even greater.
Floating amidst the endless twilight was a fortress so immense that its foundations seemed to pierce the fabric of space itself.
It was suspended in the air by chains of light that reached up into the void, anchored upon nothing, defying all known laws of divinity and nature.
Its towers rose like mountains sculpted from the bones of stars, its ramparts glowed faintly with runes older than the first dawn, and the entire structure was wreathed in a halo of pale light, a silent testament to the boundless power of its master.
It was an architectural masterpiece beyond mortal comprehension, a citadel fit not merely for a god, but for a sovereign of worlds.
Thetis, who had been quietly observing the Olympians’ reactions, finally stepped forward, her serene expression touched with quiet pride.
She extended her arm toward the monumental fortress that loomed ahead, her voice carrying easily over the hum of divine energy that surrounded the ark.
"Behold," she said, her tone soft yet resonant, "the Hanging Fortress of Pluto, the seat of Lord Hades, God of the Underworld and Lord of Spirits. It is from there that he governs not only the flow of souls but the balance of all realms that rest upon the cycle of life and death."
Her words hung in the air like a solemn benediction.
Zeus’s eyes narrowed slightly, though he could not hide the flicker of awe that crossed his face.
Even the King of Olympus, whose pride was legendary, could not deny that this fortress eclipsed the splendor of his own domain.
Poseidon’s trident lowered slightly in his grasp, his sea-green gaze drinking in every detail of the magnificent stronghold with a mixture of admiration and envy.
Apollo exhaled a long, low whistle.
"If this is how the dead live," he said softly, half to himself, "then it’s no wonder those mortals worshipped underworld so reverently."
Athena, her gaze steady and thoughtful, watched the fortress in silence, her mind already analyzing the energy that emanated from it, ancient, stable, impossibly vast.
She had seen this a few times already, but everytine she couldn’t help but feel awestruck.
This was no mere fortress; it was a world within a world, a divine machine that held together the cosmic balance itself.
And as the ark drew closer, the Olympians felt a soft tremor beneath their feet, not of fear, but of reverence, as though the very air around them whispered in anticipation.
The Hanging Fortress of Pluton loomed ever larger, its shadow falling upon the ark like the embrace of eternity itself.
For the first time in eons, the gods of Olympus were reminded of something they had long forgotten, that even among gods, there were beings who ruled not through thunder, or sea, or flame, but through the eternal silence that lay beyond life.