Three months had passed since the battle that nearly ended reality.
Aria stood on the rebuilt balcony of the palace, watching the underworld transform. Where there had once been only rivers of fire and mountains of despair, now there were gardens. Not mortal gardens—these grew black roses that sang in harmonies no human ear could hear, and trees whose leaves were made of crystallized memories.
"You're brooding again," Cerberus said, materializing beside her in his human form. He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, chin resting on her shoulder.
"I'm not brooding. I'm contemplating."
"Same thing, different vocabulary." His lips brushed her neck. "What are you contemplating?"
"How different everything is. How different we are."
Through the bond, she felt Hades approaching before she heard him. He joined them on the balcony, sliding seamlessly into their space. The three of them fit together like puzzle pieces now—natural, effortless, right.
"The council meeting starts in an hour," Hades said. "We should prepare."
"Or," Cerberus suggested, "we could skip it and do literally anything else."
"We're co-rulers of Hell now," Aria reminded him. "We can't just skip council meetings."
"Why not? We're gods. We can do whatever we want."
"That's not how responsible leadership works."
"Sounds boring."
Aria turned in Cerberus' arms to face both of them. Even now, after months of being bound, the sight of them still made her breath catch. Hades with his silver eyes that now held warmth instead of ice. Cerberus with his wild energy tempered by genuine contentment.
And both of them looking at her like she was the center of their universe.
Because through the bond, she kind of was. They all were, to each other.
"How are the repairs going?" she asked Hades, shifting to business.
"Well. The outer wards are fully restored. Stronger than before, actually. Kaos helped reinforce them."
"Speaking of Kaos," Cerberus said, "have either of you seen them today? They were supposed to help me with something."
"They're in the mortal realm," Hades said. "Observing. Learning. Trying to understand what it means to be something other than pure chaos."
"That's... actually kind of sweet," Aria said.
"Don't let them hear you say that. They're very sensitive about being called sweet."
A ripple in reality announced Kaos' arrival. They'd settled on a more stable form over the past months—roughly humanoid, androgynous, with features that shifted subtly depending on their mood. Today they appeared with dark hair and eyes that held swirling galaxies.
"I am not sensitive," Kaos announced. "I am appropriately cautious about being mislabeled."
"Sure," Cerberus grinned. "Whatever you say, sweetheart."
Kaos' form flickered with irritation. "I could unmake you."
"But you won't. Because we're friends."
"Allies," Kaos corrected. But there was no real heat in it. Over the past months, something resembling actual friendship had developed between Kaos and the triad.
"What were you doing in the mortal realm?" Aria asked.
"Observing their chaos. It's fascinating. They create disorder without even trying. Wars, love, art, destruction—all swirling together in patterns that make no sense yet somehow work." Kaos tilted their head. "They're very much like you three. Impossible, yet existing anyway."
"I think that was a compliment," Hades said.
"Don't get used to it," Kaos replied. "Now, about the council meeting. There's something you should know."
The playful atmosphere shifted instantly.
"What?" Aria asked.
"Heaven has sent an emissary. They'll be attending the meeting. Michael wants to discuss the terms of the new alliance."
"New alliance" was a generous term for the tentative truce that had existed since the battle. Heaven hadn't attacked. Hell hadn't provoked. But there was no real cooperation either. Just mutual avoidance.
"Michael himself is coming?" Hades' expression grew calculating.
"No. Someone else. Someone called..." Kaos paused, accessing memories. "Gabriel. The Messenger."
Aria felt tension spike through the bond. "That's significant, isn't it?"
"Very," Hades confirmed. "Gabriel only comes when Heaven has something important to say. Something that could change everything."
"Again?" Cerberus groaned. "Can't we have one month without reality-altering revelations?"
"Apparently not," Aria muttered. "Okay. We deal with Gabriel, hear what Heaven wants, and then we can get back to the fun part of being divine—which is what, exactly? I'm still figuring this out."
"Whatever we want it to be," Hades said, something warm bleeding through the bond. "That's the point. We make our own rules now."
"I like that answer." Aria stood on her toes, kissing him. Then turned and kissed Cerberus. "Okay. Let's go see what Heaven wants this time."
The council chamber had been rebuilt bigger and more impressive than before. Instead of twelve thrones, there were now fifteen—three at the center for the triad, and the rest arranged in a semicircle.
When Aria, Hades, and Cerberus entered, the council members stood and bowed. It still felt surreal, being shown that kind of respect.
Moros, Bael, and Nox sat in their usual positions. But there was a new face in the chamber—a figure radiating pure light, with wings that seemed to be made of liquid gold.
Gabriel.
The angel stood as they entered, inclining their head respectfully. "Lord Hades. Lady Aria. Lord Cerberus. Thank you for receiving me."
"Heaven's Messenger is always welcome," Hades said diplomatically. "To what do we owe the honor?"
Gabriel's expression was unreadable. "Heaven has been observing the changes in your realm. The new growth. The cooperation between species that were once enemies. The stability despite the fundamental restructuring of power."
"And?" Aria asked when Gabriel paused.
"And we're impressed. Concerned, but impressed." Gabriel's wings rustled. "The Triad Ascendant has proven to be... not what we expected. Not what we feared."
"We're full of surprises," Cerberus said dryly.
"Indeed. Which brings me to why I'm here." Gabriel's gaze swept over all three of them. "Heaven wishes to propose a formal alliance. Not just a truce, but actual cooperation. Shared resources. Joint governance of the boundary realms. A unified approach to maintaining cosmic balance."
Silence.
Then Bael spoke up: "That's unprecedented. Heaven and Hell have been enemies since the dawn of creation."
"Yes," Gabriel agreed. "And look where that got us. Endless conflict. Wasted resources. And recently, nearly unleashing Chaos itself because we were too busy fighting each other to see the real threat."
"What does Heaven get out of this?" Hades asked, his analytical mind already working through implications.
"The same thing Hell gets. Stability. Security. A buffer against whatever comes next." Gabriel's expression grew grave. "Because something is coming. We can feel it. Disturbances in the outer void. Whispers from beyond the known realms. Something ancient is stirring, and when it arrives..."
"We'll need to be united to face it," Aria finished.
"Exactly."
Through the bond, Aria felt Hades and Cerberus' conflicting thoughts. Suspicion that this was a trap. Hope that maybe, finally, things could actually change. Exhaustion at the thought of another cosmic threat.
What do we think? Aria asked them mentally.
I think we need more information, Hades responded. But the principle is sound. United we're stronger.
I think I'm tired of fighting, Cerberus admitted. If we can actually make peace with Heaven, why not try?
Aria looked at Gabriel. "We'd need terms. Clear boundaries. Assurances that this isn't just Heaven trying to gain leverage over Hell."
"Of course. Michael is prepared to negotiate in good faith. He'll be here tomorrow to discuss specifics."
"Tomorrow?" Moros raised an eyebrow. "That's very soon."
"The disturbances we're detecting are accelerating. We don't have the luxury of slow diplomacy." Gabriel's wings folded. "The universe is changing, Lord Hades. Your Triad Ascendant proved that impossible things can become real. Heaven hopes that peace between our realms can become equally real."
"Hope," Hades repeated. "Heaven deals in hope now. How times change."
"Everything changes," Gabriel said simply. "The question is whether we change with it or get swept away."
Aria stood, and both Hades and Cerberus rose with her—three moving as one, the unity unconscious and absolute.
"Tell Michael we'll meet with him tomorrow," Aria said. "With open minds and guarded hearts. We want peace, but we won't be fooled into servitude."
"Fair enough." Gabriel bowed. "Until tomorrow, then."
The angel vanished in a flash of light.
The council erupted in conversation the moment Gabriel left. Voices overlapping, concerns being raised, opportunities being discussed.
Aria tuned them out, focusing on the bond.
This is really happening, she thought. Heaven and Hell, working together. It's insane.
Everything about our existence is insane, Cerberus pointed out. At least this way it's productive insanity.
He has a point, Hades added. Though I share your concerns. We'll need to be careful. Verify everything. Trust, but cautiously.
When did you become the optimist? Aria teased.
When I bonded with the two of you and remembered how to hope, Hades replied, warmth flooding through the bond.
Aria smiled. Three months ago, she'd been a mortal thief running from her past. Now she was co-ruler of Hell, part of a divine triad, and apparently about to negotiate peace between Heaven and the underworld.
Life was weird.
But as she felt the love and certainty flowing through the bond from her partners—her other selves, her everything—she realized she wouldn't change a single thing.
Well, maybe one thing.
"Can we please have dinner before we save reality again?" she asked aloud. "I'm starving, and apparently being divine doesn't mean you stop needing food."
Cerberus laughed. "Now that's the most reasonable thing anyone's said all day."
"Agreed," Hades said. "Council dismissed. We reconvene tomorrow to prepare for Michael's arrival."
As they left the chamber together, Kaos fell into step beside them.
"You know," Kaos said thoughtfully, "for beings who constantly claim to not want world-altering drama, you three certainly keep finding it."
"We don't find it," Aria protested. "It finds us."
"Sure it does." Kaos' form rippled with amusement. "I look forward to seeing what impossible thing you accomplish next."
"How about just a quiet dinner?" Aria suggested hopefully.
"Where's the fun in that?"
Through the bond, all three of them shared the same thought: They're not wrong.
And despite everything—the threats, the responsibilities, the constant cosmic drama—they were happy.
Together.
Always together.
One god, three forms, infinite love.
The Triad Ascendant.
And tomorrow, they'd start reshaping the universe again.
But tonight? Tonight they'd just be themselves. Three souls who chose each other over everything else.
And that, Aria thought as they walked into their private chambers, was worth more than all the power in existence.