We returned to Olympus in silence.
The crackle of teleportation faded into the dull wind that howled across the mountaintop. No divine fanfare welcomed us. No choir of spirits or celestial glow softened our arrival. It was just stone, sky, and the bitter taste of failure lingering on our tongues like old blood.
Hera muttered curses under her breath the moment we reappeared—low, cutting words spoken between clenched teeth as she glared daggers at our younger brother. Zeus trailed behind us, one hand gingerly cradling his broken jaw, the other gripping the remnants of his pride like a torn banner. His golden hair was singed at the ends, his toga scuffed from where I'd driven him into the ground.
I didn't regret that hit.
In fact, I was still half a heartbeat from doing it again.
Rhea was seated on a wide stone bench when we entered, with Metis lounging beside her, both of them cradling goblets of wine. Adrastea reclined with one boot kicked up over the arm of a long couch, her eyes half-lidded. Amaltheia stood behind the others, calmly refilling Rhea's cup from a clay decanter.
They all looked up when we entered.
"Well?" Rhea asked, her voice casual, almost hopeful.
We all started talking at once.
"It went better than—"
"He threatened to—"
"Zeus—!"
"Oh for Tartarus' sake—"
"—like a damn fool, he—"
Amaltheia raised her hand and cut through the noise like a blade.
"Shut up," she snapped. Her sharp amber eyes swept across us before she pointed directly at Hestia.
We all turned.
Hestia blinked. "Me?"
"Yes. You. You're the calm one. The responsible one. Talk."
I don't think I'd ever seen Hestia raise her voice before. But her nostrils flared and her knuckles went white around the wine cup. She didn't even look at Zeus.
"You had one job," she said quietly. "Just one. Keep your mouth shut."
Zeus flinched.
Hestia stood, slowly, her voice rising like a fire fed fresh oil. "We were so close! We were there, damn it! Cronus was listening! The Titans were willing to walk away from war—and you… you couldn't help yourself."
Her voice cracked. "You arrogant, loud-mouthed, idiotic—"
"Hestia—" I started.
"No," she snapped. "I need to breathe. Before I do something I'll regret."
She stormed out, flames licking at the hem of her dress as she vanished into the hall.
Silence fell around us as we simply watched her leave.
Metis whistled softly. "Well then. That went about as well as I expected."
"Better than I expected," Amaltheia added. "No one died."
"Yet," I muttered and threw myself onto a nearby couch. The stone groaned under my weight. I adjusted my toga and kicked my sandaled feet onto the low table in front of me, next to a platter of figs and olives no one had touched.
Rhea blinked at me. "You didn't stop him?"
"I tried. I warned him beforehand." I glared across the room at Zeus. "Told him exactly what would happen."
Zeus frowned—well, winced. His jaw was swelling like a ripe fruit.
"I thought—" he began.
"No," I said. "Don't. Just don't."
Metis leaned forward, swirling her cup. "So what now? Cronus won't wait long. You said to yourself, he left with war in his eyes."
I took a breath, running a hand through my hair.
"We prepare," I said. "This time for war. I already secured the support of the House of Night."
That made Rhea do a spit-take—right into Poseidon's face.
He sputtered. "Ah! That's wine! In my eyes!"
"Wait—what?" Rhea coughed. "You met with Nyx?!"
"The hell is the House of Night?" Zeus asked, sounding more confused than angry now.
Metis set her cup down and turned toward them. "The House of Night is one of the oldest courts in existence. It predates most of the Titans. Nyx is the embodiment of night itself. Her consort is Erebus—darkness incarnate. They dwell beyond the edge of light, where shadows were first born. The children of Nyx are not to be trifled with."
Poseidon slapped my back, laughing. "And you just walked in and made friends? That's my brother! Did you bring them wine?"
"Of course I did."
Before I could elaborate, the stone beneath us began to tremble.
At first, it was a whisper. A subtle quake. A groan in the bones of the fortress.
Then it grew into a roar.
The ceiling cracked. Beams of volcanic rock shuddered. Dust rained down as a massive shockwave rocked the keep from beneath.
"What the—" I leapt up, instinctively vanishing into shadow as a section of the ceiling came crashing down where I had been a heartbeat before.
Adrastea grabbed Metis and teleported. Rhea pulled Amaltheia into a flash of golden light. Hera dragged Zeus, cursing him the whole way. Poseidon dove beneath a falling pillar and disappeared in a flash of blue.
I tore through the crumbling halls, the taste of smoke and copper biting my tongue. Every breath burned my lungs. The stone underfoot cracked with each step, groaning like a beast on its last breath. Behind me, a deafening boom—a boulder the size of a warship crashed through the ceiling, missing me by inches and exploding into shards.
I shifted into shadow, phasing through falling debris, my heart pounding like a war drum. The entire stronghold was dying—stone screaming, walls buckling, ancient iron twisting and bursting apart in bursts of fire and dust. Each explosion sent waves of heat rippling through the corridors, blistering against my skin even through the divine armor.
The moment I hit open air, I stopped dead.
What was once our mountain fortress was now a smoking crater. The sky was choked in black clouds, glowing red at the edges from scattered fires. Rubble lay scattered like broken bones. I could smell the sulfur in the wind, sharp and punishing.
And then—laughter.
Two figures hovered above the wreckage.
We had barely made it to the cliffs overlooking the valley when I felt the shift in the air—heat, pressure, and something far worse: presence.
I turned, eyes narrowing at the horizon.
Two streaks of divine energy descended from the smoke-choked sky like falling stars, landing with thunderous force just a few hundred feet from where we regrouped.
Hyperion—radiant, golden, glowing like a walking supernova—straightened first. His eyes were blinding, twin miniature suns that scorched the ground where they fell.
Next to him stood Perses, Titan of Destruction. Towering. Crimson-skinned. His chest rose with heavy, excited breaths, and his lips were stretched in a twisted grin like war was the punchline to his favorite joke.
Hyperion scanned the ridgeline, and his gaze locked onto us almost lazily—then he leaned slightly and whispered something to Perses.
The destruction god laughed like thunder cracking through bone. Then, both of them turned fully to face us.
"Well, well," Hyperion called, voice smooth and mocking. "You ran fast enough. Smart. But not fast enough to miss our little message."
He raised an arm, golden light gathering in his palm like the sun was bending to his will. "Lord Cronus sends his regards."
A bolt of solar energy shot from his hand, searing through the air and striking the already-ruined stronghold behind us. The southern ridge exploded in light, heat, and molten debris.
Perses stepped forward, the ground crumbling under his steps. "This," he growled, sweeping a hand toward the still-burning ruins, "is just the beginning. A gift from our King. A reminder."
His eyes narrowed on me. "You've got until the next full moon, little gods. Train all you want. Build your armies. Prepare every last soul. Because when the day comes—"
"You will fall," Hyperion finished with a bright, cruel grin.
They turned without another word. And with a single beat of their wings and a surge of divine light and fury—they were gone, leaving only the stench of scorched stone and the distant echoes of their laughter behind.
Voices rose all around me—chaotic, angry, panicked.
"They destroyed everything!"
"We were this close to peace!"
"Why did Zeus have to—"
"Enough!" I barked. "Arguing won't rebuild anything."
I ran a hand through my hair, jaw clenched. The air still stank of smoke and molten stone. Everything we had built, gone in moments.
I glanced around at our group, trying to count heads—when my stomach dropped.
Something was wrong.
Someone was missing.
"…Where's Hestia?"
Everyone went still.
I turned in a slow circle, eyes searching every face.
"Hestia!" I shouted, louder now, heart kicking into overdrive. "Where is she?!"
Blank stares. No one spoke.
And I didn't wait.
I vanished into the shadows without another word, reappearing in the scorched remains of our stronghold. The heat was immediate—suffocating. My lungs burned with each breath, ash thick enough to chew.
The mountain groaned under its own weight, and flames danced across shattered stone like demons rejoicing.
"Hestia!" I yelled, pushing through rubble, diving into collapsed chambers, one after another. "Answer me!"
Silence.
I closed my eyes and tried to focus and sense her divinity and for a while I couldn't find anything.
Then—a flicker. A tiny ember that wasn't fire.
I phased downward and burst through a half-melted wall.
There she was.
Pinned beneath a fallen column, body twisted, blood trailing down the side of her face. Her hand was stretched out toward the hallway. Like she'd been crawling.
"Hestia," I breathed.
My rage detonated.
With a roar, I grabbed the column and tried to use all my strength to lift it off her. I flung it away as I dropped to my knees, cradling her gently, checking for breath—pulse.
She stirred. A groan. Weak, but there.
Still alive.
Relief hit me so hard I nearly collapsed. I clutched her close and drew us into the shadows—vanishing from the ruins before they could bury us both.
When we emerged safely, the others rushed over—but I wasn't looking at them.
The Titans had made their move.
And now?
Now it was time for war.
☼
We had no choice but to regroup in the Underworld.
We arrived in the Great Hall of my castle thanks to me shoving everyone into my shadow to get their ass moving.
A wide stretch of polished obsidian tile stretched out beneath us, veined with gold and volcanic amber. Pillars of white stone lined the chamber, wrapped in flowering ivy that glowed faintly with soullight—gentle hues of green and soft lilac. Massive arching windows opened onto a twilight horizon of the garden and rivers, with the silhouette of the Upper City of Asphodel, visible in the distance beyond the hills.
My siblings froze in place as they stared out the window.
"…By the stars," Hera whispered.
Poseidon stepped forward, jaw slack. "You built all this?"
"Yeah," I said. "Well—me, the Elder Cyclopes and Hecatonchires."
He chuckled. "Hades, you've been holding out on us."
"I didn't think you cared."
Hera ran a hand along a flowering tree branch that snaked in through one of the windows. The petals shimmered faintly, scattering tiny lights like fireflies.
"This place is beautiful," she said, clearly stunned.
Metis arched a brow. "You planted trees in the realm of the dead?"
I shrugged. "Who said that the realm of the dead had to look so gloomy and terrible? I just wanted to make sure that my kingdom actually looked beautiful."
Before any of them could respond, the great bronze doors creaked open as the children of Nyx walked in talking about who knows what. Though it was Nemesis who noticed us first. Demeter looked over and asked who they were and I introduced them
Kerosthys gave a low giggle that sounded quite terrifying causing Poiseidon to take a step back.
I turned toward Oizys. "Can you please notify the Elder Cyclopes and the Hecatoncheires. Tell them I require their presence in the Great Hall."
She nodded once, then disappeared into shadow without a sound.
Nemesis handed me a goblet of wine. "Here you go, M'lord."
I took it with a soft smile. "Thank you, Nyx."
Her expression didn't soften—Nemesis rarely smiled—but her eyes lingered on me longer than usual.
I sipped and sat on one of the chairs, leaning back as I kicked a leg over the armrest. The Great Hall slowly filled with conversation as the others began to take in their surroundings. OIzys returned quite soon as she notified them that they would be arriving soon and I thanked as I lazily drank my wine as the others sat in comfort.
Then I heard it.
A yelp.
Followed by a sharp slap that echoed through the room.
Everyone turned.
Oizys stood rigid, clearly uncomfortable, while Zeus—our brilliant little brother—stumbled back, a hand on his face and a stupid expression frozen on his features.
"Did he just—?" Hera began.
"He grabbed my ass," Oizys said coldly, not even looking at him as she huffed and moved away to stand next to her brothers.
Zeus chuckled, rubbing the red mark on his cheek. "I was just being friendly."
Before I could stand, Nemesis moved.
She strode across the hall in three long strides, grabbed Zeus by the shoulder, spun him around, and drove her fist into his gut.
The air exploded from his lungs in a wet gasp as he collapsed to his knees, coughing.
Poseidon burst out laughing. Even Hera covered her mouth, barely stifling a smirk.
Zeus looked up at me, eyes watering. "Are you just going to let her—?"
"If you ever try that shit again," Nemesis said coldly, grabbing him by the ear, "you'll regret it in ways you can't imagine. She only slapped you. I will literally kill you."
The room quieted. Luckily the doors opened wide with a thunderous groan.
The Elder Cyclopes—Brontes, Arges, and Steropes—marched in, each of them towering and broad-shouldered, with soot and grease-smeared skin. Behind them came the Hecatoncheires—Briareus, Gyges, Cottus, and Aegaeon—each with four arms and looking as if they had just woken up.
Aegaeon, the largest of the four, knelt before me. "You summoned us, Lord Hades."
I nodded. "Thank you for coming so quickly."
I stood, my goblet now forgotten, and faced the room.
"This," I said, "is war. No more diplomacy. No more begging for peace. Cronus has sent his children to destroy us, and we will answer."
They listened in silence.
I turned to Aegaeon. "Hestia is injured. Resting in the eastern tower. I trust you above all others to see to her recovery. Be gentle. She won't ask for help, but she needs it."
Aegaeon nodded solemnly. "I will make sure that she gets well and is protected."
With that, he left the hall, footsteps thudding down the corridor.
I turned back to the others.
"We have less than a month," I said. "Maybe less, if Cronus is impatient. We need to have a lot of things prepared before we go to war, and I hope to get it all done before we march."
I summoned a roll of parchment with a flick of my hand, along with a quill. "Make your requests. Anything you need—now's the time."
We talked over it for a while and decided exactly what we needed to make and although we already had our divine weapons, there was still use for other tools, once everything was written, I handed the list to Brontes.
He unrolled it with his brothers and scanned the contents, all three muttering in ancient tongues.
"Hm. This is… considerable," Brontes said, scratching his beard. "Even if we rush, two weeks and a half minimum."
Arges shrugged. "We'll work without sleep. We've done it before."
I met his gaze. "Thank you. Though just get what you can do, and rest when you can."
They bowed and turned, already discussing metal sources and forge temperature tolerances as they departed.
I slumped back into my chair and exhaled slowly.