10-27-2026, 09:32 PM
(This post was last modified: 10-27-2026, 11:40 PM by Ascendancy.)
Hades returned to Erebos through the Sovereign's Pyle, its conjunction opening into a guarded receiving court adjoining his palace. Access was reserved for the three brothers alone, though Poseidon had never made use of the privilege.
Before passing through, he examined the gateway's attunement with more care than usual. Everything appeared in order. The conjunction opened cleanly, its boundaries settling into their familiar configuration as he crossed the threshold into the underworld.
The warmth of Greece gave way to the dry chill of Erebos. He welcomed it after the brilliance of Olympus and the ceaseless activity of Hephaestus' workshops.
At the palace, he changed out of the lighter clothing he had worn on Olympus, glad to be rid of it. He had been away for much of the day, yet felt none of the fatigue that might ordinarily have accompanied so much travel. The nectar remained pleasantly at work within him, lending an effortless vitality he had almost forgotten how to appreciate. It was unfortunate that something so agreeable should have come from Zeus. Hades supposed his brother would be delighted to know the gift remained appreciated long after their conversation had ended.
There were matters awaiting his attention, but the conversation with Hephaestus had given him reason to seek Hecate before returning to his customary responsibilities.
He found her within the Mnemeion, where the histories and judgments of Erebos were preserved in countless folios whose inscriptions would never fade. The collection filled a succession of chambers containing treaties, inventories, judicial proceedings, and accounts of events both within and related to the kingdom. Since the beginning, Hades had insisted that original entries remain inviolate. New evidence might amend a conclusion, but it could never erase the record of how that conclusion had been reached.
Hecate was consulting an open folio when Hades approached. She finished the passage she was reading before looking up.
"My lord. I trust your visit went well."
"Well enough."
She set aside her stylus, regarding him with some curiosity.
"You seem remarkably refreshed, considering the journey."
"I assure you, it was not for lack of occupation."
Her gaze lingered upon him a moment longer. Hades suspected she recognized the effects of Zeus’ gift, though she was discreet enough not to inquire after its source.
"I spoke with Hephaestus afterward. There is something you should know."
He drew a chair beside her table.
"An Atharim mortal was apprehended at the Nekromanteion of Acheron. He had been examining the Pyle there, taking measurements with an unfamiliar instrument."
"Examining it for what purpose?" She asked, brows drawn.
"That remains uncertain. The man died before he could be properly questioned, but I recovered the instrument and brought it to Hephaestus. It contained part of an attunement ward of his manufacture, but it had been altered to observe disturbances in mageia rather than interrupt them."
"That is an unusual application."
"He believes it might reveal how a technema responds to interference, though its usefulness would depend upon the knowledge of whoever interpreted the measurements."
"Then the mortal may have been gathering information for someone else."
"That is my suspicion as well. Hephaestus identified a mortal craftsman whose work appears in the instrument's original design, and his current whereabouts are uncertain. I've set Morpheus to find him.”
Hecate considered the information, then drew one of her folios closer.
"That makes what I've found rather more interesting."
Hades recognized the script upon the folio, and gestured that she continue.
"I've been tracing the weapons employed against gods during the wars. Particularly those capable of interfering with our command of Dynamis. Several accounts describe effects similar to the one present at Enodia’s death.”
She indicated a passage near the middle of the folio.
"Do you remember this battle?”
Hades examined the inscription. He remembered the engagement well enough, though his recollection concerned defeating the opposition rather than the particular testimony before him. A number of gods had fallen during the campaign, among them a goddess whose death had been attributed to an unfamiliar weapon.
"Yes, great losses. We believed the Titans leveraged several of those suppressive weapons."
”A witness’s testimony said the goddess remained conscious and capable of reaching Dynamis, but could not sustain any workings of mageia. Her assailants then killed her with ordinary weapons."
He read the passage.
The account was consistent with what he remembered. Such weapons had been rare, but their appearance on a battlefield could alter the course of an engagement. Hades had seen gods of considerable strength rendered helpless before enemies they might otherwise have destroyed. Precautions had been taken whenever their presence was suspected, although such precautions were not always successful. Even now, the recollection stirred an old defiance in him. He had despised the notion that something so small could render all his immense strength and skill utterly useless.
"Have you found anything regarding their construction?"
"Very little. The descriptions concern their effects, not their mechanisms. One witness reported that the weapon had to remain near its victim. Another described a god recovering control of Dynamis once his attackers withdrew."
The effects were familiar, and not solely because of his experiences during the wars.
He remembered with some satisfaction the first time he had watched a Titan struggle against the restraints of Tartarus. Their divine power had been there, immense enough to shatter mountains, yet the prisoner could accomplish nothing with it. The bindings did not sever the Titan's connection to Dynamis; that would have defeated the purpose of preserving the prisoner alive. Instead, every attempt to direct that power against the confinement met resistance that intensified with the effort. Hades had watched the response carefully, testing its limits before he was satisfied that the restraint could endure.
It had required years of work to adapt the old mechanisms to prisoners whose strength and abilities varied enormously. Every confinement possessed protections suited to its occupant, independent of the others. Nyx had been indispensable to their design, particularly where the restraints concerned matters beyond even Hades' considerable expertise.
The precise operation of those cells remained among the most closely guarded secrets of his kingdom. He had never disclosed the full particulars to Zeus or Poseidon, much less to anyone within his own household. Even Persephone knew little of their construction. There was no reason for anyone beyond himself and Nyx to possess such knowledge.
Yet the accounts before him described something disturbingly familiar. Whatever principles governed these weapons, their effects resembled those of the restraints within Tartarus, albeit on a much smaller scale.
"Does something trouble you, my lord?"
Hades looked up from the folio.
"I was remembering how difficult those weapons were to counter. We never established how they accomplished what they did. It was safer for all of us that they were destroyed after the war. The ones we possessed, anyway."
The three brothers had agreed to their destruction as part of the Covenant that divided the world. It was a concession Zeus and Poseidon had been willing to make once Hades was bound to its terms. None of them would thereafter possess a weapon capable of rendering the others defenseless. It had been a sensible precaution. Hades would have found it considerably more agreeable had the brothers shown the same concern for fairness during their earlier negotiations.
"I've identified references to eight weapons, although several accounts may describe the same object. Some were recovered after the war, but their subsequent histories are difficult to establish."
Hades examined the entries. Whatever had become of the weapons surrendered after the Titanomachy, there was no guarantee that every example had been recovered. Nor could he completely dismiss the possibility that others had been fashioned since.
"Until we can establish otherwise, we should assume at least one remains."
"And that it may have found its way into mortal hands."
"Perhaps. But I am more concerned with what those mortals might have done with it."
Hecate considered him for a moment.
"The instrument Hephaestus examined."
"Precisely. Someone can alter divine technemata for purposes their makers never intended. We do not know whether the weapon used against Enodia was an original, something fashioned from one, or something else drawing inspiration from these stories. Nor do we know what other modifications may have been attempted."
Hecate responded thoughtfully. "The originals were dangerous enough."
He returned his attention to the folios.
"Continue tracing the weapons. Particularly their known limitations. Whatever survived may tell us something of what we now face."
"I shall."
Hecate had begun gathering the folios when a figure appeared in the entrance to the chamber.
It was one of the Keres.
The creature stood motionless beneath her dark robes, a porcelain mask concealing the shadowed absence of a face. Three crescents adorned its brow, worked in the intricate patterns by which the daughters of Nyx distinguished themselves. Hades recognized the design. This one was seldom seen within the palace, and never without good cause.
She inclined her head.
"My king. There has been a disturbance."
Hades regarded her. "What manner of disturbance?"
"An alignment where none was permitted. It was corrected. Others followed."
"How many?"
"Four conjunctions failed. A fifth remains open."
Hades rose. The old labyrinth possessed passages whose positions shifted according to arrangements established long before he discovered the prison in the first place. Such movements were expected. Sustained conjunctions were not, particularly along routes he had personally rendered impassable centuries before.
He knew those passages as thoroughly as any man could know the workings of his own creation. For generations, their arrangements had answered to his designs, each alteration carefully calculated and secured against interference. That a conjunction should remain open without his authorization was sufficiently troubling. That it should have been preceded by four unsuccessful attempts suggested something considerably worse.
Someone was learning.
"Has anything passed through?"
"That is not known."
Hades considered the answer. The Ker's presence was itself sufficient evidence of the disturbance's significance. Her sisters rarely troubled him with irregularities that the safeguards could resolve unaided.
"Inform your mistress I am coming."
The Ker bowed and withdrew into the shadows, vanishing from sight.
Across the table, Hecate had risen to her feet. Her attention remained upon the place where the messenger had stood, and the concern in her expression had displaced the scholarly interest of moments before.
Hades departed without further explanation. Behind him came the hurried sounds of folios being closed and gathered. Hecate's footsteps followed his into the corridor before turning toward another part of the palace.
He was already pulling Dynamis into himself when he reached the Mnemeion's exit. Tartarus was the greatest charge of his existence. Whoever had dared interfere with its defenses was about to learn why the Titans remained his prisoners.
Before passing through, he examined the gateway's attunement with more care than usual. Everything appeared in order. The conjunction opened cleanly, its boundaries settling into their familiar configuration as he crossed the threshold into the underworld.
The warmth of Greece gave way to the dry chill of Erebos. He welcomed it after the brilliance of Olympus and the ceaseless activity of Hephaestus' workshops.
At the palace, he changed out of the lighter clothing he had worn on Olympus, glad to be rid of it. He had been away for much of the day, yet felt none of the fatigue that might ordinarily have accompanied so much travel. The nectar remained pleasantly at work within him, lending an effortless vitality he had almost forgotten how to appreciate. It was unfortunate that something so agreeable should have come from Zeus. Hades supposed his brother would be delighted to know the gift remained appreciated long after their conversation had ended.
There were matters awaiting his attention, but the conversation with Hephaestus had given him reason to seek Hecate before returning to his customary responsibilities.
He found her within the Mnemeion, where the histories and judgments of Erebos were preserved in countless folios whose inscriptions would never fade. The collection filled a succession of chambers containing treaties, inventories, judicial proceedings, and accounts of events both within and related to the kingdom. Since the beginning, Hades had insisted that original entries remain inviolate. New evidence might amend a conclusion, but it could never erase the record of how that conclusion had been reached.
Hecate was consulting an open folio when Hades approached. She finished the passage she was reading before looking up.
"My lord. I trust your visit went well."
"Well enough."
She set aside her stylus, regarding him with some curiosity.
"You seem remarkably refreshed, considering the journey."
"I assure you, it was not for lack of occupation."
Her gaze lingered upon him a moment longer. Hades suspected she recognized the effects of Zeus’ gift, though she was discreet enough not to inquire after its source.
"I spoke with Hephaestus afterward. There is something you should know."
He drew a chair beside her table.
"An Atharim mortal was apprehended at the Nekromanteion of Acheron. He had been examining the Pyle there, taking measurements with an unfamiliar instrument."
"Examining it for what purpose?" She asked, brows drawn.
"That remains uncertain. The man died before he could be properly questioned, but I recovered the instrument and brought it to Hephaestus. It contained part of an attunement ward of his manufacture, but it had been altered to observe disturbances in mageia rather than interrupt them."
"That is an unusual application."
"He believes it might reveal how a technema responds to interference, though its usefulness would depend upon the knowledge of whoever interpreted the measurements."
"Then the mortal may have been gathering information for someone else."
"That is my suspicion as well. Hephaestus identified a mortal craftsman whose work appears in the instrument's original design, and his current whereabouts are uncertain. I've set Morpheus to find him.”
Hecate considered the information, then drew one of her folios closer.
"That makes what I've found rather more interesting."
Hades recognized the script upon the folio, and gestured that she continue.
"I've been tracing the weapons employed against gods during the wars. Particularly those capable of interfering with our command of Dynamis. Several accounts describe effects similar to the one present at Enodia’s death.”
She indicated a passage near the middle of the folio.
"Do you remember this battle?”
Hades examined the inscription. He remembered the engagement well enough, though his recollection concerned defeating the opposition rather than the particular testimony before him. A number of gods had fallen during the campaign, among them a goddess whose death had been attributed to an unfamiliar weapon.
"Yes, great losses. We believed the Titans leveraged several of those suppressive weapons."
”A witness’s testimony said the goddess remained conscious and capable of reaching Dynamis, but could not sustain any workings of mageia. Her assailants then killed her with ordinary weapons."
He read the passage.
The account was consistent with what he remembered. Such weapons had been rare, but their appearance on a battlefield could alter the course of an engagement. Hades had seen gods of considerable strength rendered helpless before enemies they might otherwise have destroyed. Precautions had been taken whenever their presence was suspected, although such precautions were not always successful. Even now, the recollection stirred an old defiance in him. He had despised the notion that something so small could render all his immense strength and skill utterly useless.
"Have you found anything regarding their construction?"
"Very little. The descriptions concern their effects, not their mechanisms. One witness reported that the weapon had to remain near its victim. Another described a god recovering control of Dynamis once his attackers withdrew."
The effects were familiar, and not solely because of his experiences during the wars.
He remembered with some satisfaction the first time he had watched a Titan struggle against the restraints of Tartarus. Their divine power had been there, immense enough to shatter mountains, yet the prisoner could accomplish nothing with it. The bindings did not sever the Titan's connection to Dynamis; that would have defeated the purpose of preserving the prisoner alive. Instead, every attempt to direct that power against the confinement met resistance that intensified with the effort. Hades had watched the response carefully, testing its limits before he was satisfied that the restraint could endure.
It had required years of work to adapt the old mechanisms to prisoners whose strength and abilities varied enormously. Every confinement possessed protections suited to its occupant, independent of the others. Nyx had been indispensable to their design, particularly where the restraints concerned matters beyond even Hades' considerable expertise.
The precise operation of those cells remained among the most closely guarded secrets of his kingdom. He had never disclosed the full particulars to Zeus or Poseidon, much less to anyone within his own household. Even Persephone knew little of their construction. There was no reason for anyone beyond himself and Nyx to possess such knowledge.
Yet the accounts before him described something disturbingly familiar. Whatever principles governed these weapons, their effects resembled those of the restraints within Tartarus, albeit on a much smaller scale.
"Does something trouble you, my lord?"
Hades looked up from the folio.
"I was remembering how difficult those weapons were to counter. We never established how they accomplished what they did. It was safer for all of us that they were destroyed after the war. The ones we possessed, anyway."
The three brothers had agreed to their destruction as part of the Covenant that divided the world. It was a concession Zeus and Poseidon had been willing to make once Hades was bound to its terms. None of them would thereafter possess a weapon capable of rendering the others defenseless. It had been a sensible precaution. Hades would have found it considerably more agreeable had the brothers shown the same concern for fairness during their earlier negotiations.
"I've identified references to eight weapons, although several accounts may describe the same object. Some were recovered after the war, but their subsequent histories are difficult to establish."
Hades examined the entries. Whatever had become of the weapons surrendered after the Titanomachy, there was no guarantee that every example had been recovered. Nor could he completely dismiss the possibility that others had been fashioned since.
"Until we can establish otherwise, we should assume at least one remains."
"And that it may have found its way into mortal hands."
"Perhaps. But I am more concerned with what those mortals might have done with it."
Hecate considered him for a moment.
"The instrument Hephaestus examined."
"Precisely. Someone can alter divine technemata for purposes their makers never intended. We do not know whether the weapon used against Enodia was an original, something fashioned from one, or something else drawing inspiration from these stories. Nor do we know what other modifications may have been attempted."
Hecate responded thoughtfully. "The originals were dangerous enough."
He returned his attention to the folios.
"Continue tracing the weapons. Particularly their known limitations. Whatever survived may tell us something of what we now face."
"I shall."
Hecate had begun gathering the folios when a figure appeared in the entrance to the chamber.
It was one of the Keres.
The creature stood motionless beneath her dark robes, a porcelain mask concealing the shadowed absence of a face. Three crescents adorned its brow, worked in the intricate patterns by which the daughters of Nyx distinguished themselves. Hades recognized the design. This one was seldom seen within the palace, and never without good cause.
She inclined her head.
"My king. There has been a disturbance."
Hades regarded her. "What manner of disturbance?"
"An alignment where none was permitted. It was corrected. Others followed."
"How many?"
"Four conjunctions failed. A fifth remains open."
Hades rose. The old labyrinth possessed passages whose positions shifted according to arrangements established long before he discovered the prison in the first place. Such movements were expected. Sustained conjunctions were not, particularly along routes he had personally rendered impassable centuries before.
He knew those passages as thoroughly as any man could know the workings of his own creation. For generations, their arrangements had answered to his designs, each alteration carefully calculated and secured against interference. That a conjunction should remain open without his authorization was sufficiently troubling. That it should have been preceded by four unsuccessful attempts suggested something considerably worse.
Someone was learning.
"Has anything passed through?"
"That is not known."
Hades considered the answer. The Ker's presence was itself sufficient evidence of the disturbance's significance. Her sisters rarely troubled him with irregularities that the safeguards could resolve unaided.
"Inform your mistress I am coming."
The Ker bowed and withdrew into the shadows, vanishing from sight.
Across the table, Hecate had risen to her feet. Her attention remained upon the place where the messenger had stood, and the concern in her expression had displaced the scholarly interest of moments before.
Hades departed without further explanation. Behind him came the hurried sounds of folios being closed and gathered. Hecate's footsteps followed his into the corridor before turning toward another part of the palace.
He was already pulling Dynamis into himself when he reached the Mnemeion's exit. Tartarus was the greatest charge of his existence. Whoever had dared interfere with its defenses was about to learn why the Titans remained his prisoners.