"Indeed. You possess the power to change fate and rewrite inevitability…"
Hecate murmured as she nodded slightly. The Moon of the Underworld staff in her hand tapped gently against the ground, and a purplish-red radiance spread outward in ripples.
At the same time, amid the flowers and grasses where butterflies danced, resplendent violet light patterns surfaced, resembling a pair of slowly beating dark-purple butterfly wings. Countless specks of light drifted down like phosphorescent dust, tinting the surroundings with an unreal, dreamlike glow.
From within a subtly twisted fissure, a handsome youth clad in black armor emerged. His bearing was calm, a faint smile resting at the corner of his lips as he walked forward unhurriedly. Under the slightly astonished gazes of those present, he struck his right fist against his chest and bowed respectfully to Hecate.
The Moon Goddess accepted the salute with a composed nod, then spoke softly.
"Hypnos, it is time for them to awaken."
The youthful god inclined his head in acknowledgment. As the violet-black butterfly wings behind him gently fanned, drifting phosphorescent light scattered across the Pure Land of Bliss, settling upon the many Heroic Spirits still trapped in slumber.
Hypnos, the god of sleep and dreams, brother to Thanatos, the god of death, and Charon, ferryman of the Underworld.
No wonder the Pure Land of Bliss had been so quiet. The Heroic Spirits bound here had all submerged their consciousness in the beautiful dreams woven by Hypnos.
And this, clearly, was an act of kindness.
If one bore a divine mark and remained in the Pure Land for too long under its suppressive authority, the erosion could easily strip away the self.
The god of sleep had always been friendly toward humanity. What he did now seemed less about control, and more about preserving the humanity of these heroes.
As the Heroic Spirits awakened one after another, confusion and bewilderment rippled through the crowd. Calls of recognition and overlapping conversations filled the air, bringing a touch of human warmth and bustle to the once-tranquil Pure Land.
Seeing her goddess show signs of goodwill, Circe, who had been tense to the point of suffocation, finally let out a long breath of relief.
Only then did little Medea, her eyes still flickering with unease, pat her chest lightly. At the same time, she subtly shifted the wand she had been holding at her side, the tip that had been aimed at Hecate quietly angling away.
The hand wiping cold sweat against her sleeve made her lingering fear and guilty conscience painfully obvious.
You really dared to turn against your own chief goddess? That takes some nerve.
Catching this adorable yet absurd scene out of the corner of his eye, Samael felt both amused and helpless, even as a warm current rose quietly in his chest.
"Erase their divine marks, and they will become your strength."
At that moment, Hecate stepped forward to stand before Samael, setting up a barrier as she spoke in a cool, detached tone.
The Ancient Serpent smiled faintly, showing no urgency to act. Instead, he regarded Hecate with a thoughtful, probing gaze.
"Removing the shackles from living beings is far more difficult than gradually extracting divine marks from these incarnated Heroic Spirits. It's not something that can be done in a day or two. There's no need to rush."
"I can teach you how to strip away divine marks."
"Oh? You seem quite familiar with the process."
"Because the Spindle of Fate that created these things should have belonged to me in the first place."
Samael drew in a sharp breath and fixed a deep, searching gaze on Hecate's composed face.
"Why are you helping us? Without a convincing reason, I have every reason to doubt your intentions."
Hecate fell silent for a moment before answering slowly.
"I am only helping myself."
Samael glanced at little Medea. When he turned back to Hecate, his eyes narrowed slightly.
"Is it because of Medea? What exactly is your relationship with her?"
"My future. The future of witchcraft. After the disintegration of the Age of Gods, the possibility I find most satisfactory…"
Hecate paused briefly, then gave her answer in an even, unguarded tone, as though she had no intention of hiding anything.
Samael remained silent for a long time. At last, he lifted his head and looked seriously at the face behind the veil, so uncannily similar to what Medea would one day grow into. His expression stiffened, and after a slight bow, he spoke slowly.
"So, like Gaia the Earth Mother, are you also on the verge of returning to your origin? Lady Hecate… or should I address you as Nyx, Goddess of the Night? Or perhaps Ananke, Goddess of Necessity?"
Hecate froze for a moment. When she came back to herself, her brows drew together.
"Ananke… who is that?"
Samael, who had been carefully watching the subtle shifts in the Moon Goddess's expression while voicing his speculation, scratched his head in confusion at her reply.
Ananke, in Greek myth, was the personification of fate, destiny, and inevitability. She was a primordial deity who governed all destinies, necessity, and cosmic order, holding an exceptionally exalted status.
Only this answer could neatly connect Hecate with what she had revealed earlier: the Spindle of Fate, inevitability, and possibility.
Yet judging by her reaction, even the ancient Hecate seemed never to have heard the name Ananke.
Come to think of it, not only Hecate, but even Samael himself had never encountered this supposedly all-important Greek deity.
Had he guessed wrong?
Samael felt a flicker of embarrassment and was just about to steer the conversation elsewhere when he caught the calm stillness in Hecate's eyes and suddenly realized the implicit answer he had overlooked.
"So you're admitting that you are the incarnation of Nyx, the Goddess of the Night?"
Hecate had only denied knowing Ananke. That, in itself, was an acknowledgment of the earlier identity.
"I always have been. I never denied it."
The Moon Goddess replied evenly. She paused, then cast a quiet glance across the Pure Land of Bliss, her brow tightening slightly.
"However, to escape from nothingness and gain a physical form, I paid a considerable price. What you wish to accomplish from here on can only be done by yourselves."
"You traded your own authority with Zeus?"
Samael recalled a passage he had once read in the Homeric epics, and understanding dawned.
"All the children of Gaia and Uranus
shared a portion of their honors with her.
The son of Kronos, Zeus, never harmed her,
nor did he take away her share among the Titans of old.
She still possesses everything that was originally allotted to her.
As an only daughter, the goddess lacked no honors;
she received her share in heaven, on earth, and in the sea.
Out of Zeus's reverence, she was granted even more."
The epics explicitly recorded Zeus's respect for Hecate. What was more intriguing, however, was that the myths rarely credited her with any great feats. Unlike the Goddess of Wisdom, she was not known for conspicuous contributions. In theory, she was of the same generation as Artemis, yet she enjoyed immense prestige.
Even Samael, who had indirectly witnessed the wars between old and new gods, had never once seen Hecate personally take the stage.
The most plausible explanation, then, was that Zeus had obtained the assistance of a primordial deity through her.
The Spindle of Fate.
In return, Zeus helped her become the only one among the three great deities of the Underworld to gain a physical form: Tartarus, God of the Abyss; Erebus, God of Darkness; and Nyx, Goddess of the Night.
This was the origin of Hecate, the Goddess of the Underworld Moon. Yet breaking free from nothingness undoubtedly came at a tremendous cost.
The reborn Hecate lost most of her authority. She could no longer leave the Underworld, nor could she pose any threat to Zeus's kingship.
Further evidence lay in the fact that both Nyx and Hecate were legendary triple-aspect goddesses. Their authorities over night, death, and souls overlapped to a remarkable degree.
The final, decisive proof came from the attitudes of Thanatos, Charon, and Hypnos toward Hecate.
Their reverence went far beyond familial closeness. It bordered on unquestioning obedience.
There was no doubt left. Hecate was the incarnated form of Nyx, the Goddess of the Night, and the creator of the gods of death and sleep.
She, like Aphrodite—who inherited the authority of the primordial god Eros—was a continuation of the old gods.
No wonder those two were old acquaintances. That explained why their clash in Colchis had been so fierce.
At the same time, Samael's thoughts settled, and the final point that had troubled him fell into place.
Ananke does not exist now… but that does not mean she will never exist.