Once I reached the center of the Underworld, I considered how to begin the process. The Underworld was a desolate cave system, with a few interesting rivers and some bioluminescent fungi and plants that offered the barest hint of life to the otherwise absolute darkness. At that moment, I could sense that the Underworld only extended for about ten kilometers—vast for now, but minuscule compared to what it would one day need to contain.
So, my first order as Lord of the Underworld was to command it to grow. With a touch of Divine Energy and Sovereignty, the walls at the far edges of the Underworld began to expand outward, the ceiling rose higher, and shadows claimed the new space. It was too early for even the scant sources of light to illuminate the expanded regions.
The Underworld grew by an additional hundred kilometers before my energies were exhausted. I couldn't recover them quickly, as they were spreading across the new terrain, binding it to the Underworld.
Sitting on one of the nearby rocks, I surveyed my surroundings. The air of the Underworld was cold and damp, and the darkness seemed to cling to my body, casting an even deeper shadow over everything.
Eternity.
I was going to live in this desolate place for eternity.
Through my connection with the Underworld, I realized that some of my earlier hopes would not come true. I could now sense the souls with greater clarity, and I understood more deeply the cycle of life, death, and the act of reincarnation.
I had reincarnated into this world and body because my soul had become immune to the influences that would otherwise cleanse it of memories and experiences. Immunity to this crucial part of soul purification meant that as I lived and died, my soul would continue to accumulate experience and impurity. Over time, I would become less and less mortal until I learned to control my own soul, thus becoming a Mortal God. I couldn't fully define what made such beings dangerous, but my domain and the whispers of the Underworld suggested they were the antithesis of worlds—harbingers of their ends.
Probably all gods of death and the dead had similar experiences to mine: mortals who began developing immunity to soul purification, and to avoid the emergence of Mortal Gods, they were reincarnated in other worlds as death deities.
Some things from my past life now made sense—the feeling of belonging yet not belonging in my body, knowledge I had no reason to possess, a voracious need to find stories and tales of other worlds and lives to fill a void I hadn't even known existed... and the exhaustion. So much exhaustion.
The chances that my beloved had followed the same journey as my soul were nonexistent. Perhaps one day, eons from now, I'd be powerful enough to travel to the dimension where she resides and bid her farewell. But for now, the important thing was the present.
Turning toward the ceiling of the Underworld, I sent a bit of recovered Divine Energy to my eyes, allowing them to pierce the darkness. Using my Sovereignty and my domain over wealth, I created thousands of small diamonds, each one crafted with a hollow center to hold the divine flame of Hestia.
In honor of Nyx and Erebus, I wouldn't banish the Underworld's darkness with a bonfire, but instead gift our new home the vastness of the night sky—dreams traced through the darkness between stars. Most diamonds formed precise lines, a temporary arrangement. One day, like Zeus turning heroes into constellations, I would do the same for those who deserved remembrance.
The twelve diamonds that didn't follow the lines formed a shape resembling a serpent—the first constellation of our firmament, representing both my beloved's favorite animal and the form I used to save my sisters.
A warning against arrogance and a reminder of love's power.
I stayed still as my energies recovered. I watched as the Underworld's rivers began to explore their new surroundings, expanding to cover the newly claimed land. I made a note to soon invite the river deities for introductions.
With the rivers expanding, I turned to building my castle—a place where all Underworld gods could call home and a central hub of governance.
Thinking about what would terrify mortals, I seriously considered using calcium to form bones and build a castle made of countless mortal remains. Ignoring the voice in my head, I instead commanded shadows of the Underworld to merge with obsidian I created using my abilities. Meanwhile, I infused gold with waters from the Styx.
The results: a gas that emitted shadow, and a metal that absorbed heat.
Cutting my wrists, I commanded my divine energy to bleed Ichor instead of smoke. I infused my blood with the flames of the Phlegethon, evaporating it into two new materials.
One: a liquid that glowed red like a sunset. The other: a crystal that absorbed darkness and transformed it into warmth.
Extending a hand, I commanded the ground to rise. The shadow-emitting gas became the castle's foundation, making the lowest parts seem eternally shrouded in mist. The castle was made from the heat-absorbing metal, making its surroundings appear cold and inhospitable. The structure itself rose like a massive gothic cathedral, with gargoyles perched on every tower—each shaped as women with enormous draconic wings hugging their bodies and horns curling from behind their ears toward their foreheads.
With a small application of Underworld energy, the gargoyles took on a semblance of life. Using my spark of life, thanks to my sisters' blessings, and my sovereignty as a medium, I brought them to full life.
Something impossible to create inside Kronos' stomach, now made real with a simple act.
The castle's windows were made from the crystal that absorbed shadows, ensuring that while the outside remained hostile, the inside was warm and comforting.
Finally, I etched thin veins across the castle's walls and ceiling and filled them with the light-emitting liquid.
Now the castle resembled a living creature, rising from a pit of darkness. The veins of light climbed until they reached the gargoyles, whose bodies trembled for a moment before glowing veins emerged in their wings, lighting the surroundings.
I commanded one of the gargoyles to fly to the mortal world and ask nearby nymphs and similar beings if they wished to migrate to the Underworld. The Underworld is alien to life, but there exists a kingdom of plants and creatures beyond life and death: fungi. If I could create nymphs tied to fungi, I could bring a strange form of life here.
The thought of future zombie-game fans seeing an Underworld full of fungi made me smile.
With the castle complete, I commanded the remaining gargoyles to send invitations to all Underworld beings, including the three hundred-handed brothers who guard Tartarus' gates—where dear father rests.
Now came the crucial matter: food and drink. Traveling to the mortal realm wouldn't be fast enough to stockpile provisions for dozens of gods and mythical beings.
While I pondered a solution, my wealth divinity nudged me toward an idea. Taking on my demonic form, I reached up and broke off one of my horns. It immediately became encrusted with precious gems and radiated the ability to conjure food and drink.
I stared at my hand, stunned by the simplicity. Where was this instinct when Demeter tried to feed us food so vile it could kill a god?
I didn't expect an answer, but it felt like the Underworld lifted its chin and said, See how magnificent I am?
Suppressing a laugh, I walked toward the palace. Food and drink were ready. But, as a great villain once said: presentation is everything.
***
POV: Gargoyle 1
Father/Mother created her and her sisters.
Cold at first, now warm. Comfortable.
She flew toward the world of the living, a message to shout to the winds.
What were nymphs? She'd know one when she saw one.
Father/Mother would be proud when she returned with the grandest nymph of all.
***
POV: Gargoyle 2
Mother/Father created the perfect her and her ugly sisters.
She watched light dance across her wings with every beat.
Pretty light.
She would catch the light.
Then she'd deliver Mother's message.
***
POV: Gargoyle 3
The Underworld commanded. As the wisest sister, she'd deliver all invitations.
First: fetch Father's/Mother's robes from the castle chamber.
Wings tangled in fabric, but it was solved with strategic claw-work.
Robes secured, she studied her reflection: hair rigid as stone, face marble-smooth, claws sharp as obsidian. Perfect.
Now, if only she could recall the message…
***
POV: Hades
Back at the castle's main hall, I found myself standing before those massive windows freshly adorned with frescoes depicting Nyx, Erebus, and Tartarus. In them, the primordial deities surrounded an empty throne, and at the foot of the throne, a figure bowed—an unmistakable silhouette of me.
I deemed it important for these ancient powers to understand that I do not wish to usurp their domains, but rather to share stewardship of them. After all, I lay claim to the Underworld's sovereignty only because none of them desired it—and I will need to grow stronger to hold on to my position. Even now, one of them could rise up in rebellion.
The hall had no chairs—gods are not meant to sit, and trying to soften them would have been an exercise in frustration—so instead I placed tables laden with appetizers and drinks. Using my new Divine Horn, I created ambrosia and nectar that changed flavors with each bite or sip, adapting to the desires of those who consumed them.
When everything was prepared, I stepped to the center of the hall and waited.
And waited.
The gargoyles should have sent invitations and conducted the guests, but there was no sign of either the gargoyles or our invitees. Growing impatient, I opened a psychic link to the Underworld.
Chaos.
Some gargoyles were chasing their own wings; others were inviting every stone they could find. One was still admiring itself in a mirror near the throne. With a heavy sigh, I inserted my command directly into the Underworld connection and instructed them to resume their task properly.
Evidently, I had not created perfect servants and guardians—more like a colony of curious cats, some with destructive tendencies. I would need someone to train them—perhaps one of the Furies might be suited for the job.
Wait—what would be the compensation for someone who worked in the Underworld?
My thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of two elementals: one of water and ice, the other of fire and earth—thus embodying magma. They were Cocytus and Phlegethon, the rivers incarnate. From the waist up they had vaguely humanoid forms; below, they coiled in serpentine shapes, a tribute to their fluid nature.
They approached and performed a formal bow, which I returned, before slipping silently into a corner.
After them came an enigmatic woman with long, straight white hair that swept across her body like fine silk, nearly covering it. She was so slender that a breeze could have flung her aside. Her eyes were milky blue, her skin honeyed. This was Lethe, the River of Forgetting. Unlike her powerful brothers, she radiated the subtle charm of a water spirit.
I approached, preparing to greet her as I had the others. But when our eyes met, something in me softened. A gentle smile touched her lips and she extended her hand. I took it, bringing it to my own lips in a soft kiss.
"It is good to see you no longer struggling," she said, voice a hushed melody. Her other hand brushed where I had touched her.
"Thanks to your help, Lady Lethe, you gave me strength to face Kronos." I confessed to the flow that cleared my spirit.
"I only helped you remember that you must not forget," she responded, drifting toward one of the tables.
Beneath her hair, ribs pressed against thin skin. I wondered whether this was due to a lack of divine substance as nourishment, or simply the form she chose to present.
I followed her to the tables—she absentmindedly picked up a small sweet, brought it to her lips, then hesitated and returned it to the plate. I observed her quietly do this twice more, before selecting one of the treats myself and placing it in her mouth. She chewed quickly, then offered a bright smile.
"Delicious… more?" she asked, cheek stuffed like a chipmunk, prompting laughter from me and the others who had since arrived.
"The Underworld is in good hands," said a woman with ebony-green skin, golden eyes, and flowing black hair. Chains and scraps of metal adorned her body, though they appeared ornamental rather than functional, for her body was in full view.
"Styx, do not worry. The Underworld is always in capable care—there is no need for concern," The one who spoke was Hypnos, suspended in mid-air, floating nude. His hair was gray and curly; his eyelids bore tattoos that echoed his closed eyes.
"You never worry, do you? So unlike your brother," Styx retorted.
Meanwhile I continued to offer sweets to Lethe, who leaned against my arm as if utterly at ease.
"Welcome to the first gathering of the Underworld. I am …" My words were interrupted as the great gates swung open violently. Demeter entered, casting a quick survey before fixing her eyes on me.
"Brother, Hera intends to kill Zeus." My jaw clenched as I processed her words. It had only been half a year since we ascended to our thrones.
Demeter must have sensed my confusion. She continued, "He's planning to wed someone named Metis, but there is another question"
Her eyes narrowed at Lethe, who was calmly eating ambrosia from my hand. "who is that on your arm?"
Before i could reply, Lethe leaned forward, gently sucking the drop from my fingertip, then looked serenely at Demeter.
A hush fell over the hall—broken abruptly by a melodious laugh. I turned to see Eris, the goddess of Discord, materializing with gleeful theatrics.
She wiped mirthful tears.
"Finally—a tasty recipe: drama, action, jealousy!" she exclaimed, laughter spilling between every word. "This is why I adore gatherings!"
No one responded. I cleared my throat and ignored the disturbance as best I could.
***
POV: Gargoyle 1
"Are you a nymph?" she asked the four-armed, four-legged creature.
It scuttled away without answering.
Rude. But she was the finest gargoyle. She would find a nymph.