It had been a few days since my meeting with Nyx and Erebus.
Now, I sat alone in my office within my castle in the Underworld, letting the steady crackle of fire fill the silence. The flames danced in the hearth across the room, casting a gentle orange glow across polished stone floors and walls. The heat was pleasant—comfortably warm, not stifling. Just enough to take the edge off the usual chill that clung to this realm.
My desk sat at the heart of the room—a masterpiece of craftsmanship. Made of ebony-blackwood and engraved with many beautiful carvings, it was a design I had sketched myself, loosely inspired by the "Resolute Desk". But instead of an eagle on the front, I had replaced it with my symbol. Arges and Steropes had built it for me by hand, their eyes lighting up when I handed them the design. It took them a week just to figure out the drawer mechanism I wanted, a hidden gear system concealed within the frame.
The Elder Cyclopes never failed to impress. Give them a vision, even a vague one, and they could breathe life into it. They were builders in the purest sense—divine engineers who could shape matter and magic with equal ease.
In my right hand, I held a writing quill—long, sleek, and black. It was one of my own feathers, harvested during a divine molt and bound into a silver sheath crafted by Gyges himself. A gift. The nib glided effortlessly across the parchment as I signed off another employment contract.
Yes—contracts.
Just because I ruled the dead didn't mean I wanted chaos among them. I preferred things documented. Accountable. Orderly. Each of the positions I was establishing down here—ferryman, guards, scribes, judges—would be clearly defined, so there would be no discrepancy on what was required.
My eyes flicked up as the door creaked open.
They entered as a group, the children of Nyx, each a being of such distinct presence that for a moment, I simply sat back and took them in.
Thanatos moved with a calm, almost poetic grace. His black hair was braided neatly over one shoulder, and he wore dark robes that shimmered faintly, like moonlight on still water. He carried himself with this strange reverence, his eyes looked cold and emotionless.
Kerethys, by contrast, radiated raw, unhinged energy. Her long hair was a tangled mess, her dress torn and bloodstained like she'd walked out of a massacre and never thought to change. Her eyes darted around the room like a wild animal's—no, like a predator looking for the next kill. Her grin twitched at the edges. I felt my spine tense at her gaze.
Moros was the quietest of the three, and standing taller. He was draped in a simple white chiton that contrasted against the mummy-like wrappings that covered his arms, legs, neck, and most of his face. Long, pale white hair spilled down his back, his bangs falling low over his eyes. He didn't fidget. He didn't shift. He simply stood, as if time itself moved around him and he remained the constant.
Behind them, Charon loomed—tall and ghoulish, with sunken skin stretched tight over long bones. His face was sharp and hollow, his eyes clouded like fogged-over glass. Oizys followed, the goddess of Misery. She was dressed in a simple dress, though looked quite depressed and didn't meet my eyes.
And last—Nemesis.
By all the gods...
She was a full-blown muscle mommy in every sense—tall, and beautiful in every sense. She looked as if she could crush me at any moment.
Despite the strength radiating from every inch of her, she wore a simple, beautiful chiton that only made her look more divine—a goddess who seemed to deadlift for fun.
I stood as they entered and offered a respectful bow of the head. "Thank you all for coming," I said, my voice even.
Thanatos gave a polite bow. Moros nodded. Kerethys just smirked and muttered something I didn't catch. Charon groaned. The others remained silent.
"I asked you here today to offer positions in my growing realm," I said, gesturing to the pile of parchment at my desk. "The Underworld is vast. And I need help managing it all, for some of you I already have positions that I wish you will take. I want you to sign your name in one of these contracts once you are hired."
I cleared my throat and moved on.
"Thanatos, Moros, Kerethys—you three, I want as my Reapers. Grim Reapers, to use a more casual title. You shall travel the world insearch of those that should die, when the time comes you shall be given scrolls with lists of the names of those to die and make sure that they are brought before the underworld to be judged."
Thanatos inclined his head. "There are three of us, so I assume that we will each preside over different deaths?"
"Exactly," I said. "You shall guide souls who die in sleep, age, or quiet ends. The "merciful" reaper. Moros will oversees all fated, inescapable, often tragic deaths"
Kerethys practically bounced on her heels. "Ooh, and what do I get?"
"Violent and brutal deaths," I said, folding my hands. "You will be drawing out the souls from the bloodied, shattered, or murdered. The battlefield reaper."
"Fuck yes," she whispered.
I ignored that and turned to Charon.
"Charon," I said as I pulled out a silver coin that I had minted earlier. "I want you to become the Ferryman of the river styx. You will carry souls through the river Styx, past the gardens and to Judgment. Each person will have to pay you 1 silver coin, a drachma."
He let out a deep, echoing groan—a sound like rocks grinding underwater—and slowly nodded.
"I'll take that as a yes."
Then I turned to Oizys.
"I don't currently have a role that suits your nature," I said gently. "But I'm working—"
"I want to be your assistant," she said abruptly.
I blinked. "What?"
She looked up for the first time. "I want to be your personal assistant, help you out with whatever you need."
Silence hung for a moment. Then I nodded. "Then consider yourself hired."
Oizys had just bowed her head and whispered her thanks when I turned toward Nemesis.
She stood with her arms crossed, towering in quiet judgment like a black-and-bronze sentinel. I wasn't sure if she breathed or just existed by sheer force of divine will.
"And what about you?" I asked, arching a brow.
She shrugged—casual, unaffected. "I don't know."
I waited for elaboration. None came.
"That's fine," I said with a slight smirk. "Not everyone needs a purpose stamped on their forehead. You're welcome to stay as long as you like. Think of the Underworld as... a place to find yourself."
She squinted at me slightly, as if trying to decide whether that was a trick or not. Then she nodded once. "Alright. But if you start acting like Father, I'm cutting off your head."
"Noted," I said dryly. "Thanks for the warning."
With that settled, I cleared my throat and reached into a side drawer. The wood groaned as I pulled it open, and from inside I retrieved a small black coffer with silver detailing. The lock clicked open beneath my touch, revealing its contents—shimmering coins nestled in velvet lining.
"I wanted to address compensation," I said, glancing at the group. "Just because we're divine doesn't mean we should rely on handouts or chaos. Mortals need systems. And frankly, so do we."
Kerethys raised an eyebrow. "You're going to pay gods?"
"I am," I said. "One gold stater per week."
I picked up one of the coins between my fingers and held it up to the light. It gleamed with a luster that almost felt alive, stamped with a three-faced helm—one for death, one for judgment, one for peace.
"This is a Stater. Solid gold. Rare. Reserved for wages and trade between high officials or divine goods. Below that, we'll mint the Drachma."
I held up a larger silver coin with a skull-and-serpent design etched into the center. "The drachma will be the standard currency for the Underworld. Used in shops, markets, and services. Most trade will happen in these."
I placed the third coin—a much smaller silver piece—next to it.
"This is Obol. It's worth one-tenth of a drachma. It will be used for simple transactions—bread, drink, ferry tolls. Yes, Charon, you'll be collecting Obols."
Charon let out a low, approving groan.
"Five Obols to a half-drachma. Ten to a drachma. Ten drachmas to a stater."
I looked around the room as they examined the coins with fascination.
"And before you ask," I added, "yes, Nemesis—you'll be paid too."
She blinked. "I haven't agreed to work yet."
"You will still need to buy things, so since you are living here. You will be getting paid as well."
She didn't smile, but I noticed the coin disappear into her bracer with a flick of her fingers.
They each signed their contract with a flourish or, in Charon's case, another ink-slick smear. As the last signature faded into the parchment with a flash of divine light, I felt something shift—something real settle into place. For the first time, the Underworld had laws. Order. A foundation.
And then the doors exploded open.
I didn't even flinch. The wood slammed against the walls as Prometheus stormed in, hair wild, robes askew, ash on his hands like he'd run through a burning field.
His eyes locked onto mine, panicked. "They were stolen!"
I rose slowly. "What?"
"My humans! Adam and Eve! They were taken!"
The room went still. Even Kerethys stopped fidgeting.
"Start from the beginning," I said carefully, walking around the desk.
Prometheus paced like a man possessed. "I was cleaning up my workstation and head left for only a couple minutes and when I had come back, I saw them going through my things before stopping at the desk were I had left Adam and Eve"
"Describe him."
"I barely saw him," Prometheus said. "Just a glimpse. He wore a lot of white with gold jewelry— had a hood up to hide their face, though they had this holy kind of energy to them."
"Did he say anything?"
"No. Just smiled. Snatched both of them—and then vanished from Olympus. I tried to follow but..." Prometheus looked like he wanted to tear out his own hair. "He was already gone."
"Has he left the land?"
Prometheus shook his head. "Not yet. His energy is still near. Twenty—maybe thirty miles from the western border."
I didn't hesitate.
With a thought, the shadows beneath my feet churned and rose. My form blurred, body flickering into mist.
"Hold everything down while I'm gone," I said.
And then I was gone.
☼
The shadows screamed as I tore through them.
Not literally, of course—but there's a pressure in moving like this. A strain between my body and the shadows as I literally tear through them when moving far distances.
And in that moment—I didn't wait.
A blur of motion. My foot caught the side of the god's head with a sharp crack, sending them sprawling to the ground with a startled grunt. They tumbled with surprising grace, clutching a leather satchel to their chest like it was more precious than their skull.
I landed lightly, bident in hand, crouched low and ready to strike again.
But as I looked up, my brain faltered.
That wasn't a "he."
The hood had fallen away, revealing long hair the color of snow, braided along the sides and tumbling past her shoulders like moonlight. Her skin was pale but warm, alive in a way that shimmered like early morning dew. And her eyes—gods, her eyes were golden, looking far more holy than my father's, angry and intelligent, narrowing at me with almost as much frustration as my own.
She stood about a head shorter than me, robes of soft white trimmed in radiant gold now stained slightly by the dirt. Her lips curled in annoyance as she rose and brushed herself off.
Wait. What?
"You're a—" I started.
"Woman?" she snapped, glaring. "Yeah. Surprise. Want a medal?"
I blinked. "…Honestly, yes. You caught me off-guard."
"Well next time don't lead with a roundhouse kick, maybe we can have a civil introduction."
"You were trespassing."
"Only a little."
I straightened. "What are you doing in my land?"
She grumbled something I couldn't quite hear as she clutched the satchel tighter.
"I was so close," she muttered.
I narrowed my eyes. "Close to what?"
She didn't answer.
My bident appeared in my hand with a sharp shimmer of power, and I pointed the prongs directly at her heart. "You trespassed on Greek soil," I said, voice low, "and you've stolen something belonging to Prometheus. Explain. Now."
She met my stare without flinching. "Finders keepers."
I blinked.
"…You're kidding."
"Nope."
"You think you can just stroll into someone else's land, kidnap a pair of sentient mortals, and say finders keepers?"
She huffed, unfazed. "They weren't sentient yet. I didn't hurt them—I just needed to understand how he got them to work."
She reached into her satchel and pulled out two clay figures, firm and smooth, each carved with ridiculous care. I recognized Adam and Lilith immediately—Prometheus had labored for decades shaping every line of their soul-conduits.
"These," she said, "are impossible. They contain no divinity or soul. They shouldn't even function. And yet—he did it. He got them to speak. To breathe. How?!"
"You kidnapped them to reverse-engineer them?"
She shrugged. "I'm curious."
I stared at her. "Who in Tartarus even are you?"
She tilted her head slightly. "Yahweh."
The name rang strange in my ears. Not Greek. Not Titan. Not even from this realm.
"What sort of god are you? And how did you know about the mortals?" I asked though who wouldn't know that name, who this god-goddess really was."
She raised her chin. "I'm... actually I don't know, in my land I am the only god. To answer your second question it is because I am omnipotent. Sort of. If I focus hard enough, I can hear everything, see anything, know all that happens—though it gives me the worst migraines."
I stared at her.
"You're joking."
"I'm really not. If you've ever heard prayers in your sleep from other pantheons, that was probably me cross-tuning by accident."
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "You give omnipotence a terrible reputation."
"Oh, I wasn't aware it had a good one."
We stood in silence for a moment. Her gold eyes danced across mine, and I could feel her power humming faintly behind her skin—not raw like mine, but refined. Like a blade honed over centuries.
I lowered my bident.
"Give them back."
"No."
"Please?"
"No."
"Yahweh," I said, voice growing harder, "this isn't just about Prometheus' pride. Those two were the beginning of something grand. They were given the breath and blood of a Titan. You can't just snatch that because you're curious."
She looked at me for a long time.
Then smiled.
And vanished.
Just like that.
No portal. No explosion of power. Just gone in a blink of white-gold light, leaving behind a small swirl of warm air and an angry, cursing god of the dead.
"DAMN IT!"
I slammed a fist into the nearest tree.
It cracked down the middle with a shuddering groan and toppled with a thunderous crash.
I stood there for a moment, breathing heavily, knuckles stinging. The silence afterward was insulting.
Eventually, I pulled the shadows around me and slipped back to the Underworld.
Prometheus was pacing just outside my office, muttering to himself when I reappeared. He turned as he saw me and froze.
"Well?" he asked, hopeful.
I shook my head. "Too late."
His face fell. "She took them?"
"She vanished before I could stop her."
Prometheus looked down for a moment, then sighed. "I figured. The magic on them was already unraveling when I found her trail."
He didn't cry. He didn't rage. He just… sat down on the floor, dust in his hair and exhaustion in his bones.
"I worked on them for seventy years," he said. "Every joint. Every whisper of mana. They were the first things I ever made with love."
I knelt beside him. "I'm sorry."
He gave a weak smile. "Well. I guess it's back to the drawing board."
"You're really going to try again?"
"Of course," he said, eyes gaining a flicker of fire. "I was already planning a second model. I was going to call them Elves."
"Elves?"
He nodded. "More mana-efficient. Slightly longer ears. Graceful hands for crafting and spellwork. Faster learners, too. I'll make them different—but better."
I couldn't help it—I laughed.
Not a cruel laugh. Not even tired. Just genuine amusement at his indomitable will.
"Of course you would," I said, clapping a hand on his back. "Leave it to you to lose the first two humans and immediately upgrade the model."
Prometheus grinned. "Well, maybe I'll keep the long hair. Adam was pulling it off."
I rose to my feet and offered him a hand. "Come. I'll assign you a forge and a proper team. If you're going to remake humanity, I want front-row seats."
He took my hand.
And for the first time that day, the weight of failure lifted just a little.