Chapter 3: The House of Hades

“All of this realm are born of darkness, boy. It’s part of everything you’ll ever see. The mortals on the surface, they all fear it, foolish as they are. Unable to even see its power.”Hades, SuperGiant’s Hades (2020)

The dawning light on Olympus heralded more than just the beginning of a new day. Change was afoot for every part of Greece. Helios’ first rays bathed the mountaintop. The grandeur of the gods’ abode glistened with golden celestial beauty.

In this radiant atmosphere, Nyx, Thanatos, and Hypnos stood at the entrance of Olympus, waiting for Hades. Hypnos appeared half-awake with a languid and drowsy appearance. Thanatos bore a perpetual air of indifference, as if he were eternally unaffected by the events of the world.

However, Nyx, the Primordial Mother Night, was focused on the task at hand. Her obsidian eyes radiated with ancient wisdom, and she was fully aware of the weight of the moment.

The eldest son of Cronos and Rhea approached with a quiet dignity. While he did not like the outcome of the straws, Hades had accepted his newfound role as King of the Underworld. Very few of the gods had been to the Underworld during the Great War. After all, the only thing interesting was that the Fates lived there.

Nyx’s keen gaze fell upon him. Her eyes reflected something of a time gone by. When Hades touched Nyx’s arm, the company was teleported away from the heights of Olympus.

“Welcome to your new realm, Hades, King of the Underworld,” Nyx said, her voice a deep resonance that seemed to echo through the hallowed halls of Olympus.

Hades accepted the new title with a grim countenance. The halls of the Underworld were a stark contrast to the ethereal glow of the mountaintop. Still, Hades did not betray a single emotion. He had lost the gamble. It was better than another war. If the Underworld was his calling, he was prepared to answer.

The air grew heavy with an eerie stillness, and an ominous silence prevailed. The faint glow of the fire within Tartarus was the sole source of illumination.

There was an emptiness to the realm that left Hades feeling uneasy. In the distance, the unmistakable clinking of chains could be heard, a reminder of the recent conflict that had shaped the destiny of the Titans.

However, Hades’ attention was pulled away. Approaching them was the specter of Ouranos, the Last Primordial. Hades had not truly lain eyes on his grandfather until that moment. He was every bit the ferocious skies as Hades had been led to believe.

Hades paused, breathing an acknowledgment of the former ruler. “Ouranos.”

Ouranos did not recognize or hear the little god’s words. He simply continued walking, gradually fading into the darkness.

“What happened?” Hades wondered.

“Did no one ever tell you the story?” Nyx asked, confused. She stared at Hades with disbelief.

“We were too busy winning a war,” Hades pointed out.

Nyx inclined her head in a shrug. “That is fair.” Nyx had to think for a moment. There were things she knew about his mother and father. As Rhea was above with the living, Nyx thought it best to leave her reputation intact.

“Long ago, after being crowned by Chaos, your grandfather sought to undo Chaos, and seat himself as the Progenitor.”

“As Father wanted to unseat Ouranos?” Hades wondered.

“Yes and no. There is a difference between being King of Olympus, and being the Great Progenitor. All things came from Chaos. While I am sure my parent can be destroyed and we would live on, the power, wisdom, and eons of knowledge would be lost.”

Hades motioned that he was listening and for Nyx to continue.

“As such, he sought to entangle my daughters in his scheme. He intended to turn the twelve titans against Chaos, but to that end, he tried to use my daughters, the Moirai or what most of you young gods call the Sisters of Fate, to look into the future for him as if they were his to command.”

“And they were not?” Hades asked, genuinely curious.

“The Fates serve only the Tapestry of Fate,” Nyx informed. “They preserve the past, catalog the present, and consider the future. No one dictates to them.”

“Not even you?”

Nyx shook her head. “No one. Not even Chaos has given them a directive as far as I understand it.”

Hades marveled at that.

“But then your Grandfather betrayed my daughters, and they undid him, cursing him and his throne.”

Hades marveled at that information, but then he thought of Olympus and Zeus. “The same throne my brother sits on?”

Nyx nodded.

“Then is it not still cursed?”

“Perhaps it is,” Nyx said with consideration. “Perhaps it is not. It is not for us to know. The Fates will tell you your destiny, whether it is the past, present or future, but not others. And if they tell you that much of it, they did so as a favor, not out of obligation or order.”

“Then I should show deference to the Fates?” Hades asked.

“If you intend to enjoy your immortality, I would say so,” Nyx said with a smile.

Ahead, Hades and Nyx came across the spirits of Menoetius, Eurybia, and Theia drifted past, their spectral forms whispering tales of their torment. While there were other lesser known titans from the Great War who had been killed, Hades couldn’t help but feel a small portion of sympathy for those three as they had been the first casualties in the Great War.

As they continued deeper into the Underworld, Nyx’s presence remained a steadfast guide for Hades. Her gaze fell onto him.

“This realm is now yours to command, Hades. You will watch over the dead and the titans, but it is much more than that. You will cultivate this realm even as Zeus will cultivate Olympus and the living lands of Greece or Poseidon will tend to the ocean. This realm can be a blessing or a curse, but it is yours to do with as you please.”

Hades looked into Nyx’s obsidian eyes. “Thank you, Nyx,” he said, looking over the realm of the Underworld.

Ouranos could have sworn he had heard something. It was reminiscent of something that had been told to him long ago. He heard names and whisperings.

He could have sworn he heard Nyx call the small one ‘Hades’ and that he was the ‘King of the Underworld’. No. That could not have been right.

Ouranos had been given dominion over the Underworld for his mistakes. But then, hadn’t Chaos said something about a ‘deserving king’ but that this king would hand over the realm of the dead to another?

Ouranos had been in charge of the desolate wastelands for eons. He would not hand this land over to some upstart who had not even earned what little Ouranos had left. He considered how best to harm the small king, but then Ouranos saw something he had not seen before.

In the darkest parts of the Underworld, there was a light shining off the River Styx. As he followed it, he could feel the light of the living world was sparkling off of it.

Perhaps this baby known as Hades could have the Underworld. If Ouranos returned to the land of the living, he might be able to regain what he had once lost.

As Nyx continued her tour of the Underworld with Hades, Nyx led Hades to a place shrouded in shadow. There, beneath the bleak and ashen ground, stood a remarkable tree. The tree had twisted roots burrowed deep into the earth, bore pomegranates on gnarled branches. They were as dark as the abyss and glistening with an otherworldly sheen.

Nyx gestured toward the tree as her inky black dress billowed in the ethereal breeze. “Hades, this tree is blessed by some of the primordial forces of this realm—Tartarus and Erebus. When Gaia visited long ago, she left some of her fertile soil in this Underworld.”

Nyx shook her head, recalling the years after. “When she lost her husband, Gaia cried, and after being trapped here with death, he also cried. Those tears of Ouranos and Gaia mingled, sustaining these trees.”

As Hades observed the pomegranates, he sensed their unique power. He reached up, and he could feel a force that resonated with the energies of the Underworld.

“I believe these fruits are made for you,” Nyx went on.

“Why?” Hades wondered.

“The consumption of one of these pomegranates, Hades, will alter your divine nature at its very essence,” Nyx explained. “No longer will you be like your brothers, Poseidon and Zeus, whose power draws from Greece and the celestial realms. This fruit is the key to your transformation into a true chthonic god, one whose dominion lies solely within the Underworld.”

Hades contemplated the gravity of this transformation, knowing that it would mark a turning point in his divine existence. His gaze turned back to the pomegranates, and Nyx continued to unveil their secrets.

“With this newfound power,” Nyx said, “your connection to the Underworld will be absolute. It will flow through your essence, empowering you to be greater than you are now and granting you dominion over this realm that is your charge.”

Hades paused looking at the fruit. Power over the Underworld would not be so bad for its undisputed ruler. He stopped himself from reaching for the fruit. A realization struck him harder than any blow during the Titan War. “It is irreversible. Isn’t it?”

Nyx lowered her head. “It is. Your power will be inextricably linked to the depths of the Underworld, and you shall draw strength from its Primordial forces—myself, Erebus, and Tartarus. But when you leave the Underworld, your power will slowly wane, and you will not be able to recover your full might until you return.”

Nyx’s words resonated deeply within Hades, causing him to worry. “I knew when I drew that straw that I would be here forever, but ... I just ... I thought ... Maybe...”

Knowing where his heart and mind was, Nyx felt obligated to ask the question that she knew might end up haunting Hades. “You thought you would leave one day, to be with your Olympian Princess?”

Hades nodded weakly. “I guess I did, but ... If I eat this, it will be ... final.”

“I know,” Nyx said with some sympathy. “But I thought you should see this now. If you stay here and do not eat the fruit, you will fade and weaken like the Titans you watch over.” Nyx paused, motioning to the chain that bound the powerful beings. “Just at a slower rate since the magical adamantine is not helping you wither.”

“Then ... if I am to rule, I will need to eat this fruit?” Hades wondered.

Nyx nodded. “There is more, Hades,” Nyx went on carefully. She was aware that she was telling Hades a lot, and if she bent this metal too far too fast, it would break. “As with every chthonic god within the Underworld, you shall possess true immortality. Should you perish within this realm, your essence will be transported to the sacred River Styx, and you shall awaken as if you only woke from a dream, for this is the realm of the eternal.”

Hades nodded with uncertainty. He could not stop his hands from quivering. He had known he would be King of the Underworld, but knowing he would weaken if he stayed on Olympus was a sign that he would never truly leave the realm for long.

Beyond that, he knew Hera could not truly visit more. She would have to leave quickly unless she ate that other pomegranate, and Hades knew she would never do that. Hera was devoted to Rhea’s plan for her to be the Queen of Olympus.

Hades understood that better than Hera did. He could admit that much to himself. Hera would whine, gripe, even fight it outwardly, but in her heart, she yearned to be in charge. He saw that much during the Great War. She had no problem leading the goddesses, and when she borrowed Zeus’ lightning bolt to throw at Cronos early on, she had shown signs that she was meant to lead.

He knew she did not hold much favor for Zeus, given his desires for Metis, but with time, that would change. Her desire to rule and lead would supersede any disdain she had for Zeus.

He reached out for the fruit before stopping himself. He was not ready to change who he was entirely in order to rule the Underworld. Perhaps, he would eat that fruit, but he had time.

Nyx watched curiously. She had been the keeper of the Underworld’s ancient secrets for millenia. She wondered if she would be allowed to give them to him as he guided the destiny of the realm she called home.

She flinched when the Underworld moved.

“What was that?” Hades asked.

“I don’t ... I don’t know,” Nyx replied honestly. She readied herself. “With guardianship of the Underworld being our duty, we will find out!”

Hades pulled free his bident from his back. If he needed his hooks, he would free them from his belt. He had battled greater and lesser titans. Whatever was to come would be no different.

At the crossroads of the living realm and the Underworld, where the boundary between the two worlds thinly, stood Ouranos on the hallowed ground. This sacred place was empty except for the Last Primordial. Though, it should be that way. None had ever escaped the Underworld, but Tartarus or Erebus would have created a border that separated the realm of the living from the realm of the dead.

Ouranos shook his head as he tried to collect himself. But having been dead so long, he could not be sure about the flow of time. Centuries must have passed since his gruesome death. SInce then, Cronos surely should have been the ruler of Olympus. Ouranos did not care about that. He knew where he needed to be.

Cronos would be arrogant and full of himself. He would have neglected Rhea or Gaia. Ouranos knew that the position as King of Olympus made one lose perspective.

For that, Ouranos was grateful for his death. He knew where his priorities needed to be. He had been made to be a husband and father. He needed to do right by both Rhea and Gaia.

Even as Ouranos came to that conclusion, he could sense the mother and daughter far off. He would need to leave the precipice and return to them.

In the dim twilight that danced upon the stone steps, his figure slowly emerged from the abyss. He did not fully know of the changes made by the generations, but he would discover them. The ancient sky god, ascended as a ghostly specter. His celestial form radiated a pallid luminescence that cast an eerie glow among the pillars. He did not yet have a physical form, but as the Last Primordial, he has access to power and energies that no new god or titan would have.

Ouranos gazed out upon the lands of the living, his once-vibrant eyes filled with bitter lamentation. He had once reigned as the supreme lord of the cosmos, but in that moment, he sought only to restore his lifeforce in the realm above. Once there, he could live a life with Gaia, and be a better man than he had once been.

Looking out to the world, Ouranos saw every mistake he had made. While he was not sure how to undo or rectify those errors, he could not do so while still being a spector.

He began to reach for the opening, the last vestige of the Underworld that touched into the lands of Greece.

Unfortunately for Ouranos and his plans, at that fateful juncture, the newly crowned King of the Underworld emerged from the shadowy depths.

“Ouranos! Halt! You must return to the lands of the Underworld.”

“Ha!” Ouranos cried out. “I do not see that happening, little godling. Or is it little King?”

Hades did not move as his ebony robes billowed like ethereal tendril. The newly crowned King of the Underworld was cautious. He knew who he faced. Ouranos, the Last Primordial, born of Gaia and Chaos, and the First King of Olympus.

Aidoneus kept all those titles and what they implied in mind when he took his first step forward. He would not allow his caution to become fear. He was the Unseen One. He was one of the three sons of Cronos, an equal to the King of Olympus.

His presence would command the attention of all things in time. Hades knew that. He believed that just as Ouranos was known and feared by the gods, so too would his (Hades) name be worthy of remembrance. He had lived in squalor on the island in Cronos’ belly, given to him by his brother Aether. He had been liberated and battled in the greatest war known to all divine beings of Greece, and maybe even the world. He would conquer the visage of Ouranos. He would tame the Underworld. Hades would perform deeds worthy of being known by all beings, living and dead alike.

As such, the two divine beings stood facing each other on the threshold of the Living Realm. The very air seemed to tremble with the weight of their impending conflict, an ancient power ready to clash with the newfound ruler. The very Underworld itself held its breath, for the destiny of Greece was about to unfold in a battle that would test the boundaries of both the living and the dead.

The dim glow of the Underworld cast shadows upon the ashen ground as the child of Cronos stepped toward the spectral form of Ouranos.

Ouranos could see the resemblance. This poor, besotten creature was Ouranos’ grandchild. Could the being know his quest to be restored and see Rhea, to see Gaia? Could the little baby divinity understand the lifetimes of regret that Ouranos had known?

No. He could never. This was a child wielding powers of the cosmos that he could not understand. Ouranos had come from Gaia and Chaos. He knew the true power of the divine, the infinite might that the small upstart could never understand.

If Ouranos had felt arrogant in his summation, he felt vindicated as the little godling pulled free a medal helm. The being used trinkets from Ouranos’ bastard offspring. He knew the like and craft. Ouranos needed no such paltry toys to harness his might.

The atmosphere crackled with an eerie energy. Ouranos could feel the impending clash between them about to begin. Could the child? He very much doubted it.

Hades bore the Helm of Invisibility, rendering him unseen by mortal eyes. In one hand, he wielded his two pronged Bident, feeling it pulse with power. His Hooks were tied at his waist. He was not sure how they would work on a spectral being, but the Hooks had served him well in the war.

Ouranos loomed as a wraith on the edge of the Underworld, his essence twisted and ethereal. The echo of a forgotten battle still lingered in his form, a testament to the fall he suffered at the hands of Cronos.

Hades knew that his foe would be unlike any other he had faced before. Cronos had been powerful, but Hades had faced him with the help of his brothers. Crius had been weakened by the very Primordial that Hades faced.

Ouranos leapt at Hades and the clash commenced with a burst of otherworldly energy. Hades, nimble as ever, darted in and out of sight, the Helm of Invisibility rendering him elusive. The Bident danced through the air, striking at the specter.

Ouranos gasped as the divine weapon was able to harm his spectral form. Pain was not a stranger to Ouranos, but it was unwelcome.

Ouranos retaliated with multiple magical bursts of energy, creating shockwaves that rattled their arena. Hades, even unseen, shook at the power at Ouranos’ disposal. Never had such concentrated force been unleashed on Hades directly.

Even dodging did very little for the young king. Even indirect blows were good enough reason for him to pause.

With Hades throwing and recalling his bident at a whim, he knew the Bident needed to serve as a distraction if Hades was going to succeed. He twirled his Hooks, seeking purchase on the incorporeal form of Ouranos.

The once-Almighty King did not dodge or dance as Hades. When the Hooks lashed through the shadows, attempting to ensnare the spirit, Ouranos gripped the weapons before tossing them aside.

“Is this the best you can do, little child?”

With Hades’ Underworldly weapons proving worthless, the young king growled. He was as worthy as his brothers. They defeated the Titans who had killed Ouranos. Stopping Ouranos single handedly should have been difficult not impossible.

Even sensing the disparity, the battle raged on. Hades commanded his formidable power, bringing it all to bear against Ouranos. The cosmic dance of death only seemed to make Ouranos laugh more and more.

“Yes, yes, child! Do all that you can!” Ouranos exclaimed with overwhelming joy.

Hades grimaced at the declaration, but he brought forth all that he could just as his grandfather demanded. Determination born from the years of warfare empowered Hades’ Bident. Ouranos, ever desperate to restore himself, allowed the Bident to stab through his large hand.

Ouranos gripped the weapon. Hades refused to let go of his weapon. He stared up at the large visage. The cruel smile was the last thing Hades would recall of their battle.

Ouranos slammed the young god onto the ground. Quickly, his free hand formed a fist, crashing into his grandson’s face. Ouranos pulled back and brought that fist down harder with each successive blow. The ichor that burst forth from Hades’ wounds was immediate and profound.

Ouranos had not seen so much of a divine being’s life force leak out so quickly. Though his eyes were closed, Hades fought with the last vestiges of his fading power to no avail.

Seeing such courage, Ouranos stared down at the little being. The child before him was not Cronos. Cronos had not been great or brave. Cronos had struck out against Ouranos only after Crius and Coeus had attacked Ouranos first. The being before Ouranos had been brave and stalwart. He had faced a foe he could not have hoped to defeat with all the strength he had to muster. Still, even on the ground and death looming, the little being tried.

The fallen Primordial retreated from attacking the little one. Though he had been his opponent, this nameless divinity was not Ouranos’ enemy. He realized a simple matter of genealogy. If this child was the son of Cronos, he was Ouranos’ grandson and most likely Rhea’s child.

Ouranos knew how lasting death could be. This little being did not deserve to be destroyed for possessing a heart so boldly courageous that it overshadowed the prudence of his mind.

Slowly, Ouranos pulled away. The living realm was his goal. A chance at resurrection did not require the murder of another divinity.

No. Ouranos would not be responsible for destroying any other life. He had done enough. He would restore himself and make amends. To do that, his body and divinity would need to be his once more. He could not do that on the precipice of the Underworld.

“I do not begrudge you, little one. You did our duty. Hold your head high knowing you survived a battle with the Last Primordial,” Ouranos said before departing. He did not know the little one’s name, but he did feel a vestige of pride.

Someday, that child might make a true name for themselves.

In the dim aftermath of the cosmic clash, Nyx could see Hades laying near-lifeless on the ground. He had been battered and beaten, bleeding ichor, the divine lifeblood of divine beings. As the celestial dust settled, the Primordial of the Night observed the scene with her starlit gaze.

She tilted her head in curiosity. She had known that Hades had fought in the Titan War. He was potentially the strongest of the sons of Cronos, yet still, he had been no match for a Primordial. Were these younger gods simply weaker? If so, it would be a mistake to allow one as inferior as Hades to be the guardian of both the Titans and the dead.

It might serve Nyx to rule over the dead as much as she loathed the idea. She was night and darkness. She was nobility itself, but she never felt the call of ruling officially. To be a queen was for Gaia, Zeus, maybe even that Hera girl, but Nyx? No. For her, she was the be unbridled, free to consume light.

As she glided to the bleeding victim, she could see the ebb and flow of divine energy within him. He may succumb to his wounds inflicted by his spectral adversary but there was a might forcing him to live on.

Without hesitation, Nyx extended her shadowy tendrils, enshrouding Hades’ ichor-covered form. With a commanding sweep, her dress of blackened night encapsulated him from the living world. She drew him back into the recesses of the Underworld, where she had been for the millenia.

He did not move much. Whether that was from conserving his strength or from it simply being his nature, Nyx did not know, but she felt in her heart that he was trying to survive.

Once within the hallowed halls of her dominion, Nyx went to her stores, leaving him on a pile of stones to rest. The Underworld did not have man palaces or temples. Nyx had no need for opulence of worship. She existed and was and would always be. What did the fawning of the living Titans or their children do for her?

She found a flask of ambrosia within her stores. The celestial nectar crafted from the essence of starlight and cosmic power shined brightly, illuminating even the broken king. With deliberate care, she poured the ambrosial elixir into Hades’ mouth. She watched carefully to see if the divine properties of the drink would weave their magic.

The ambrosia’s radiant glow coursed through the King of the Underworld undoing most of the damage inflicted upon Hades. However, the scars that ran over all of his body were left untouched, which Nyx found strange. Had the wounds been from Ouranos?

Nyx snapped herself out of that thinking. No. He had once been within the belly of Cronos. Perhaps Cronos’ power over time or even the acid within had soaked so much into Hades’ flesh that no amount of ambrosia could undo the effects.

Still, the ethereal wine did its work as a cosmic balm. Nyx, with her enigmatic wisdom, knew that Hades would awaken from the crucible of celestial strife. What he did after, though, would be up to him.

In the hushed expanse of the mortal realm, where the sky stretched like a vast canvas overhead, Ouranos, the Last Primordial, slowly began to walk in the lands. So much had stayed the same, but Father Sky noticed the difference. There were lesser, unintelligent beings in his world.

Looking down at his translucent and ephemeral form, recognizing that he was a ghostly echo of his former celestial majesty, he shook his head at his own thoughts. It was not his world anymore. When he slept with Rhea, taking her behind Gaia’s back, he had created the divisive strife that caused his children to turn on him and be killed.

As he slowly, purposefully traversed the boundless expanse of the living world, he was recognizing (caused by his heavily weighing remorse) that this was no longer his world. Greece had changed in his absence. His ancient hold on the realm had been dissolved by those of the living, little by little everyday.

The memory of his clash with his sons rung in his mind even if he recalled the stripling that had struck out at him only recently. Those thoughts lingered in his consciousness, bolstering his doubts.

He looked upon the shimmering celestial canvas above. The sky was a tapestry of azure hues and golden rays. As he looked upon it, he stirred with a newfound vitality, pulsing with the magic of life itself.

Ouranos, the ancient sky Primordial, felt the subtle currents of rejuvenation coursing through his spectral essence. The very fabric of the heavens, a testament to his divine craftsmanship, responded to its lord and master. Moment by moment, he could feel himself coursing with new energetic ... life.

Even as he basked in the wonder, Ouranos knew he would be whole again. Still, he felt fear and uncertainty. Death had not been a consequence realized by the divine until Ouranos’ death. What were the consequences to being harmed in the living lands?

Youth and a crown had made Ouranos arrogant. Time and death had tempered him to be more cautious. He looked onto the world and knew it would be best to hide away.

To change his size to that of a Titan was easy enough. He might have turned into one of the winged beings in the sky, but to alter his form into another living being was not a power he had learned.

Perhaps, that was what Ouranos would do with his eternity. He could learn many things from these newer beings.

The once-great king looked around before spotting some mountains in the distance. It would keep him connected to the sky, so he could still heal and restore himself to life while also taking the time to discover more of these new divinities.

On Gaia’s tranquil island, where the lush greenery kissed the shorelines and the gentle waves brushed against the shores like a lover’s caress, Rhea and Gaia sat in solitude. Their secluded sanctuary was a paradise unto itself.

As the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a golden hue over the landscape, Rhea lay in a meadow stretching while Gaia sat before a lake of water.

Gaia seemed at peace in her earthly domain as she stared at her pool of water. In the water, strange images flashed. Men in armor, women in beautiful clothes, children being born were all displayed one after another in the water.

Rhea’s stretching betrayed a restlessness.

“How can you sit there and do nothing, Gaia?”

“Trying to unlock the secrets of the future is not doing nothing, daughter,” Gaia snipped back.

The two were discovering an eternity together might be a greater torture than living under the reigns of their respective husbands.