The palace was a graveyard.
Bodies being removed. Walls being rebuilt. Blood—black, silver, red—staining everything. The attack had ended, but the aftermath was just beginning.
Aria walked through the corridors with Hades on her left and Cerberus on her right. Both refused to let her out of their sight. Not that she was complaining. Every demon and creature they passed stopped and stared—some with fear, some with awe, all with recognition.
The mortal vessel who awakened and didn't die.
The woman who now walked between god and beast like she belonged there.
"They're staring," Aria muttered.
"Let them," Cerberus said. He was still in human form, his hand possessively on the small of her back. "They should know who you are. What you're capable of."
"What I'm capable of is collapsing," Aria admitted. "That power surge took everything out of me."
Hades' hand immediately went to her elbow, steadying her. "You need rest. Food. Water." His analytical mind already working through solutions. "The awakening depleted your mortal body's resources. If you push too hard—"
"I'll be fine."
"You almost died."
"But I didn't." She stopped walking, forcing them both to stop too. "Can we not do this right now? The 'you were reckless' lecture can wait until I've had at least six hours of sleep and something that isn't mystery meat."
Cerberus grinned. "She's got bite. I like it."
"You like everything about her," Hades said dryly. "It's becoming a problem."
"Your problem."
"Our problem." Hades' eyes flashed. "In case you've forgotten, we're still connected. What you feel, I feel. And your obsession with her is bleeding into—"
"My obsession?" Cerberus moved closer, challenging. "You kissed her too. You felt what I felt and wanted it for yourself. Don't pretend you're above this."
"I never said I was above it. I said it was dangerous—"
"Everything worth having is dangerous!"
"Stop." Aria's voice cut through, sharp and final. "Both of you. I'm too tired for this alpha male posturing bullshit."
Both men fell silent, looking at her.
"Seven days," she continued. "We have seven days to figure this out. That means no fighting each other. No jealousy spirals. No 'I saw her first' nonsense." She pointed at each of them. "You two are literally the same person. If you can't learn to share one woman, then you've got bigger problems than a prophecy."
Cerberus blinked. Then laughed. "Did she just tell us to share?"
"I believe she did," Hades said, something almost like amusement in his voice.
"I'm serious." Aria crossed her arms despite her exhaustion. "I'm not going to be a prize you two fight over. Either we're in this together—all three of us—or I walk."
"Walk where?" Cerberus challenged. "You're in Hell."
"I'll find a way. I'm resourceful like that."
Hades studied her for a long moment. Then, unexpectedly, he smiled. Small. Genuine. Devastating.
"You're serious."
"Dead serious."
"She really is perfect," Cerberus murmured.
Hades ignored him. "Fine. No fighting. No competition. We work together to find a solution." He paused. "But you need to understand something, Aria. The Reckoning isn't just about choice. It's about sacrifice. Someone—maybe all of us—will lose something we can't get back."
"Then we make sure it's worth it."
They brought her to Hades' private chambers—a place even the council wasn't allowed. The room was massive but surprisingly simple. Black stone walls. A bed that could fit five people. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the underworld's twisted landscape.
"You sleep here?" Aria asked.
"Sometimes." Hades moved to a side table, pouring water from a crystal decanter. "Gods don't need sleep the way mortals do. But occasionally, I... rest."
He handed her the glass. Their fingers brushed, and electricity sparked between them.
Cerberus prowled the room like a caged animal. "I hate this place. Too cold. Too controlled. Too much like him."
"It's called having standards," Hades said without looking at him.
"It's called being repressed."
"Says the embodiment of impulse control issues."
Aria drained the water in one go. "Okay, seriously. How did you two survive being one person for so long?"
Both men stopped and looked at each other.
"We balanced each other," Hades said quietly. "I was the logic. He was the emotion. Together, we were... complete."
"Then what happened?"
Silence.
Finally, Cerberus spoke, his voice rough. "Lyssa happened."
Aria set down the glass. "The last vessel."
"She was different," Hades said, moving to the window. His reflection stared back—cold, controlled, perfect. "Human, yes. But she had divine blood. Distant, but there. The Heart recognized it. Chose her."
"I loved her," Cerberus added. "We both did. But loving her meant feeling everything—joy, passion, fear. And when the Heart started consuming her, when we felt her slipping away..." His hands clenched. "It nearly destroyed us."
"I had to kill her," Hades continued, his voice empty. "The woman I loved. I held her as she begged me to end it. As the Heart turned her into something monstrous." He turned from the window. "And I realized something. Love makes you weak. Vulnerable. Compromised."
"So you split yourself," Aria finished. "Gave all the dangerous emotions to Cerberus so you could rule without them."
"Yes."
"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."
Both men stared at her.
"Excuse me?" Hades' tone was dangerous.
"You heard me." Aria stood, ignoring her exhaustion. "You don't split yourself because love hurt you. You split yourself because you were afraid it would hurt again. There's a difference."
"The result is the same—"
"No, it's not." She moved closer to him. "Being afraid means you're still human. Still capable of feeling. But cutting yourself in half?" She shook her head. "That's not strength. That's running away."
Hades' jaw clenched. "I did what was necessary—"
"You did what was safe," Cerberus interrupted. His voice was quiet but firm. "She's right. I've been saying it for a thousand years, but you never listened."
"Because you're biased—"
"Because I'm the part of you that still knows how to feel!" Cerberus stepped forward. "I carry every emotion you deny. Every desire you suppress. Every moment of weakness you refuse to acknowledge. And you know what? It's exhausting."
For the first time, Aria saw genuine pain in his eyes.
"You think being the 'beast' is easy?" Cerberus continued. "You think I enjoy being locked away, only let out when you need violence or rage? I'm not just your guardian, Hades. I'm your goddamn emotional dumpster."
The words hit like a physical blow.
Hades went very still. "I never... I didn't think of it that way."
"Of course you didn't. Because thinking about it would mean feeling something." Cerberus laughed bitterly. "And we can't have that, can we?"
Aria watched the two of them—two halves of one broken whole, finally being honest with each other for the first time in a millennium.
"This is why the prophecy exists," she said quietly. "Not because love will destroy Hell. Because denying love already has."
Both men looked at her.
"The realm is fractured because you're fractured," Aria continued. "You can't rule properly when half of yourself is locked in a cage. You can't protect anything when you're at war with your own soul."
"The merge would be dangerous—" Hades started.
"More dangerous than this?" Aria gestured between them. "You're already tearing each other apart. And me?" She touched her chest, where the Heart pulsed. "I'm just the catalyst. The thing that forced you to finally face what you've been avoiding."
Silence fell, heavy with truth.
Then Cerberus spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "What if we merge and I disappear? What if becoming whole again means losing this?" He gestured to his human form. "Losing the ability to hold her. Touch her. Love her as myself, not just as an echo of you?"
The vulnerability in those words broke something in the room.
Hades moved then—crossed the distance between them and gripped Cerberus' shoulder. The touch was electric. Intimate. Two parts of the same soul making contact.
"You won't disappear," Hades said, and his voice was rough with emotion. "You'll finally be free. We'll be free. Together. Complete."
"You don't know that."
"No," Hades admitted. "I don't. But I know this—I'm tired. Tired of being half a person. Tired of fighting the only part of myself that still knows how to feel. Tired of pretending I don't want what you want."
His eyes moved to Aria.
"I want her," Hades said simply. "Not as a possession. Not as a responsibility. As a partner. An equal. Someone who challenges me and terrifies me and makes me remember what it felt like to be alive."
Aria's breath caught.
"And I can't have that while I'm divided," Hades continued. "Can't love her properly when half of me is locked away. So yes, the merge is dangerous. Yes, we might lose ourselves in the process. But living like this?" He looked back at Cerberus. "This isn't living. It's existing. And I'm done with it."
Cerberus stared at him, eyes wide. Then, slowly, he smiled—genuine and heartbreaking.
"Took you a thousand years to figure that out."
"I'm a slow learner."
They stood there, god and beast, finally on the same side.
Aria felt tears burning her eyes. "So we do it. We find a way to merge you two safely. Break the prophecy. And figure out how to save Hell in the process."
"In seven days," Cerberus added.
"In seven days," Aria agreed.
"That's impossible," Hades said.
"Good thing I specialize in impossible."
A knock at the door interrupted them.
Hades' expression immediately shifted—cold, controlled, the mask sliding back into place. "Enter."
Bael stepped through, his coal-hot eyes sweeping the room. He took in Cerberus' human form, the intimate proximity of all three of them, and raised an eyebrow.
"Forgive the intrusion, my lord. But the council requests an audience. Immediately."
"Tell them to wait."
"They anticipated you'd say that." Bael's smile was thin. "Which is why they sent me with a message: the Reckoning's countdown has accelerated. You now have five days, not seven."
The room went cold.
"What?" Aria breathed.
"Someone used blood magic during the attack. Dark, old magic that feeds on chaos and death." Bael's expression was grim. "It destabilized the timeline. The prophecy is collapsing faster than expected."
"Who?" Hades' voice was lethal. "Who used blood magic?"
"We don't know yet. But whoever it was, they wanted to speed things up. Force your hand." Bael looked at Aria. "And the council believes the Lady should be present for the discussion. They want to... assess the situation."
"Assess me, you mean," Aria said.
"Yes."
Hades moved in front of her immediately. "She's exhausted. She just awakened. She needs rest, not political games."
"I understand, my lord. But the council was very clear. Either she comes willingly..." Bael paused. "Or they come here."
Cerberus' form rippled with barely contained rage. "Let them try."
"Enough." Aria stepped forward, placing a hand on Cerberus' arm. "It's fine. I'll go."
"Aria—"
"They need to see I'm not a threat. That I can handle this." She looked at Hades. "And we need to know who sabotaged the timeline. Five days isn't enough unless we have all the information."
Hades studied her face, conflict warring in his eyes. Finally, he nodded.
"Fine. But I'm coming with you. Both of us are."
"The council specifically requested she come alone," Bael said carefully.
"Then the council can be disappointed." Hades' tone left no room for argument. "She doesn't go anywhere without us. Not anymore."
Bael bowed. "As you wish, my lord."
As they prepared to leave, Aria caught her reflection in the window. Her eyes still held traces of silver. Her skin seemed to glow faintly in the dim light. She looked different. Felt different.
The Heart had changed her. And she was only beginning to understand how much.
"Ready?" Cerberus asked, offering his hand.
Aria took it. Then reached for Hades with her other hand.
"Together," she said.
"Together," they both agreed.
They walked toward the council chambers, three souls bound by impossible fate, with only five days to break a prophecy that had been written in blood and starlight.
Behind them, in the darkness of Hades' chambers, the shadows whispered.
And in those whispers was a name neither of them had heard in a thousand years.
A name that promised everything was about to get so much worse.
Erebus.