Kratos came to with a jolt, a gasp tearing at his throat. His muscles were coiled tight, still feeling the sear of lightning and the grip of unnatural shadows. His hand clenched around empty air where his axe should have been.
The world resolved into shades of grey. He was on a cold, smooth riverbank. And he was not alone.
His mother, Styx, sat before him on a dark, natural throne of stone, her expression unreadable but her presence a tangible calm. Flanking her were his siblings.
Zelus let out a sharp, explosive breath he seemed to have been holding for an age. "Finally... you're awake." He surged forward, his hand trembling slightly as he gripped Kratos's forearm, his knuckles white.
"Took you long enough," Nike said, her voice unusually rough. She punched him hard in the shoulder, but her hand lingered there, a firm, reassuring pressure. "Don't scare us like that."
Bia didn't speak. She never did. But she moved to stand directly in his line of sight. She met his searching gaze and gave one, slow, deliberate nod.
Kratos used Zelus's grip to haul himself fully upright. His body ached, but it was whole. The memory of charred flesh and his own burning armor was stark against the reality of his unmarked skin. He looked from one face to the next 'Zelus, Nike, Bia. All here. All safe.'
His eyes finally settled on his mother. "Mother," he grunted, the word heavy with unasked questions.
Styx's serene gaze was answer enough. "The terms of our sanctuary have been met. You are all under my sight once more."
Zelus finally released his arm, running a hand through his own hair. "We saw the light, brother. Hyperion's judgment... we thought you were—"
"We knew you weren't," Nike cut in, her voice regaining its usual command, though it was softer at the edges. "Mother would have felt it. But seeing you here... it's different."
"The war is lost," Kratos stated, the truth a cold stone in his gut.
"The battle on that field is over," Styx corrected, her tone shifting from maternal to oracular. "The war now moves to a different plane. And you all have already done to much, just rest here."
---
Poseidon, Zeus, Metis, and Prometheus trudged through the oppressive darkness of an underground cave. The only light came from the lamp in Prometheus's hand, casting long, dancing shadows on the damp walls. They had been walking for what felt like an eternity.
Poseidon's patience, already thin, snapped. "Do you even know the path to the Underworld?" he growled, his voice echoing.
"Yes," Prometheus replied, his tone steady but his eyes scanning the cavern with growing unease.
"Then why have we been walking in circles for six hours?" Poseidon shouted, the sound causing tiny pebbles to skitter down the walls.
Prometheus did not flinch. "We are not lost." He stroked his chin, murmuring to himself, "If my information is correct, Apate should have been here by now—"
A soft, childish giggle echoed from the darkness. "It seems you are lost, my dear friends."
Zeus and Poseidon summoned their weapons in a flash of light, falling into a battle stance. "Who's there?" Zeus's voice boomed. "Show yourself!"
A small figure stepped into the fringe of the lamplight. It was a young girl with large, teary eyes and a face of innocent sorrow. Vulpine ears drooped on her head, and a single fox tail hung limp behind her. "Wait, please! I'm just a small, harmless fox," she whimpered, her lower lip trembling.
The sight of her childish vulnerability made Zeus and Poseidon falter. Their weapons vanished. Metis stepped forward, crouching down to meet the girl's eyes. She smiled, her voice gentle. "Who are you, child? What are you doing in a place like this?"
"Me? I'm Apate, a guide of the Underworld," she said, her expression shifting instantly to cheerful brightness. "You look lost! Do you need this super-duper guide, sis?"
"Yes, we need to reach the Underworld. Can you lead us?" Metis replied, matching her cheerful tone.
"Okay, then follow me!" Apate chirped, plucking the lamp from Prometheus's hand with a movement too swift to follow. She skipped ahead, humming a nonsensical tune. "La-la-la-la-la!"
Prometheus stared at his empty hand, his eyes widening. His instincts screamed a warning, and he quickly checked the pouch at his belt.
After a few minutes of walking, they arrived at the bank of a vast, black river. The air grew cold and heavy. An old, worn-out boat was anchored there, and a gaunt, gloomy man stood in it, leaning on a long wooden paddle.
Apate pointed. "That's Brother Charon. He will take you to the gates of the Underworld."
As the group moved towards the boat, Metis felt a small tug on her tattered dress. She turned to find Apate looking up at her, tears welling in those huge eyes once more.
"Sis..." Apate's voice was a tiny, heartbroken whisper. "Where... where is my fare?"
Metis blinked. "Fare?"
Apate's tearful gaze swept over their worn-out, travel-stained clothes. Her face crumpled with pity. Then, she pressed a single gold coin into Metis's hand. "Here, take this, sis," she whispered softly. "You'll need it more than I do."
Metis froze, staring at the coin. Her lips parted in stunned silence as she looked from the coin to the genuine-looking sorrow on Apate's face, then down at her own disheveled state. The manipulation dawned on her with sickening clarity.
Zeus's jaw tightened, a muscle twitching in his cheek. With a sharp, jerky movement of raw humiliation, he ripped a dimension pouch from his belt and hurled it to the ground at Apate's feet. "Take it and be gone," he bit out.
Apate snatched the pouch with the speed of a striking serpent, bowing deeply. "Thank you, Brother and Sister! I knew you were generous and noble!" And with that, she vanished back into the darkness.
Zeus turned, his pride wounded. "Charon! Ferry us to the Underworld."
The ferryman slowly cleaned his left ear with a finger, then extended his open palm. "Fare."
Zeus snarled, grabbing a handful of Charon's robes and hauling the ferryman up to his eye level. "What joke is this?!"
Charon remained utterly unfazed. With infuriating slowness, he plucked Zeus's hands away, smoothed his robes, and then produced a parchment, tossing it to Prometheus. Prometheus scanned the document, his shoulders slumping slightly. He placed a hand on Zeus's shoulder. "He's right, Zeus. The rules state every soul must pay two valuable items for the ferry."
Zeus vibrated with suppressed rage but said nothing. Metis stepped forward, placing seven healing potions and the single gold coin into Charon's hand. "Is this sufficient?"
Charon glanced at the items and gave a slight nod. "Board."
As Charon poled the boat away from the shore, he casually dropped three of the potions into the black water of the Styx.
Prometheus watched, aghast. "Charon, were we also supposed to pay the guide, Apate?"
"No," Charon answered, not turning around. "The rule is only for the ferryman. The river must be paid each time I cross. There is no rule that a guide must be paid."
Prometheus stared blankly at his empty hand, then dragged his palm down his face. "Tricked," he whispered, the word a bitter curse. "By a child with a sad story."
Metis released a long, weary sigh. "When she showed me those tears, my instincts screamed, but I didn't listen. Why?"
The boat journey continued until the river itself seemed to plunge over a colossal waterfall, descending into an abyss before calming in a vast, subterranean sea. They arrived before a towering gate of molten rock and black iron, adorned with serpents and demonic carvings. Countless lost souls wandered the shores before it.
Charon stopped poling. "We've arrived."
Prometheus frowned. "Why have we stopped?"
Charon pointed a bony finger. "The gate is closed."
Metis's brow furrowed. "Why is it closed?"
Charon's face remained a mask of tired patience. "By order of Queen Hecate. The Underworld is isolated."
"But why?" Metis pressed.
The lines on Charon's temples deepened. "I don't know," he said, his tone final. "No more questions. Talk to the guard."
Zeus stood, his aura flaring. "Guards! Open this gate! I am Zeus, King of Heaven!" His voice thundered through the cavern.
From a high battlement, an Arkdemon soldier peered down. "Please forgive us, Lord Zeus. There is a strict order from the crown. The gate remains closed until further notice."
"You defy ME?" Zeus roared, sparks of lightning snapping from his body. "Do you know the consequences?"
The guard, Aggron, did not blink, but a trickle of dark blood seeped from his nose under the pressure of Zeus's divine aura. His voice was a strained grit, but unwavering. "I know the consequences. But my order stands. Even against you, King of Heaven." He raised an arm, and dozens of crystalline arrows hummed to life, all aimed at Zeus.
"You brat!" Zeus snarled, a spear of pure lightning materializing in his hand. He drew back his arm to hurl it.
Two voices cut through the tension simultaneously. "Stop!"
Charon appeared instantly in front of Zeus, his placid face now stern. At the same time, the water of the Styx rose up, coalescing into the regal form of the goddess Styx.
Poseidon mumbled, "Styx."
Prometheus and Metis immediately bowed their heads in respect. "Just how powerful is Lady Styx?" Metis whispered to Poseidon.
"After Lady Tethys, she is the most powerful of all river deities," Poseidon murmured back. "Even my father, Cronus, acknowledged her authority."
Styx regarded Zeus, her voice calm but immovable as stone. "Lord Zeus, you are a wise and powerful king, but you act on impulse. If your thunder strikes that gate or its guardian, it will be seen as a declaration of war against the entire Underworld. I advise you to calm your fury and resolve this through discourse."
Zeus met her gaze, the lightning in his eyes slowly dying. He unsummoned the spear and sat back down, his silence thick with suppressed rage.
Charon looked up at the battlement. "Aggron! You are doing your duty well. But the situation is... delicate. Send a message to the crown. I am certain Lady Hecate will grant an audience."
Aggron turned and whispered to another soldier. He then looked back down. "The message is sent, Lord Charon. Please wait."
---
Hecate sat in her study, a glass orb swirling with mist on her desk. The image of an Infrazel worker shimmered within it. "The labyrinth is complete, your majesty. Lord Hades has finished his final survey. He is currently... engaged in a discussion."
A knock came at the door.
"Enter," Hecate said, not looking up.
A messenger knelt. "Lord Zeus, Lord Poseidon, Lady Metis, and Lord Prometheus await at the gate. They seek an audience."
Hecate set down the scroll she was reading, a faint, knowing smile touching her lips. "It seems the winds of desperation blow even to our doorstep." She leaned back. "Relay my message to Hades: Your siblings have come to bargain." She then turned to the messenger. "Grant them permission. Lift the isolation."
"Yes, your majesty."
---
An hour passed on the boat. Zeus paced its length like a caged lion, his silence more threatening than any shout. Poseidon's glare was fixed on the gate, his knuckles white where he gripped the boat's rim.
Then, with a deep, resonant creak that shook the very air, the towering gates began to swing inward.
Charon picked up his pole. "Finally." He ferried them through the gateway.
The sight that greeted them stole the breath from the Olympians. To their left stretched a vast, barren plain under a twilight sky. To their right, immense glaciers rose into a frozen sky. Yet, a warm, dim sunlight fell from nowhere and everywhere at once.
"Is this truly the Underworld?" Zeus murmured, his anger momentarily forgotten in his awe.
A faint smile touched Charon's lips as he watched their stunned faces. He poled on, the black water of the Styx gradually shifting to a vibrant, celestial blue until a central landmass came into view.
"Welcome to the heart of the realm," Charon said, guiding the boat to a pristine dock. "This is Central. The soldiers will guide you to the castle from here."
As if on cue, two soldiers in impeccable armor marched forward, spears held at their sides. They bowed respectfully.
"Lord Zeus, Lord Poseidon and honored guests," one said. "Please, follow us. We will escort you to the castle."