When consciousness returned, it came like a slow tide.
The sound of dripping water. The burn of salt in my throat. The pressure — not of chains this time, but of power. Ancient. Cold. Still.
And then a voice — low, dry, darkly amused.
"I never thought I'd meet you this way, nephew."
My eyes snapped open.
The chains were gone. The ocean was gone. I was kneeling on obsidian, a black floor that drank in light and sound alike. The air was heavy — like the world itself held its breath. Shadows bled from the walls, curling around pillars carved from bone and stone.
The Underworld.
And standing in front of me, tall and terrible in his stillness, was Hades.
Despite his old age, he still looked like he was in his mid-thirties, with hair black as a starless sky, pulled back loosely, a few r
