The council chamber felt different this time.
Darker. Heavier. Like the walls themselves were waiting for something terrible to happen.
All twelve thrones were occupied. The demons sat in silence, watching as Aria entered flanked by Hades and Cerberus. She kept her head high, refusing to show the exhaustion still dragging at her bones.
The old man with white eyes—she'd learned his name was Moros, the embodiment of doom—leaned forward.
"Lady Aria. Thank you for joining us."
"Did I have a choice?"
A few council members smiled at that. Moros' expression didn't change.
"You always have a choice. That's what makes this interesting." He gestured to the center of the room. "Please. Stand in the circle."
Aria looked down. A circle of symbols glowed faintly on the floor—runes she didn't recognize but that made her skin crawl.
"What is this?" Hades' voice was sharp.
"A test," said the smoke-woman, her form rippling. "To verify what we all suspect. That she's not just a vessel anymore. That the Heart has fundamentally changed her nature."
"She doesn't need to prove anything to you," Cerberus snarled.
"Actually," Bael said from his throne, "she does. The Reckoning affects us all. If she's unstable, if the power is consuming her like it did Lyssa, we need to know. Now."
Aria felt Hades tense beside her. The mention of Lyssa—his dead love—was deliberate. A test within a test.
"It's fine," Aria said quietly. She stepped forward, pulling free from both their grips. "I'll do it."
"Aria—" Hades started.
"Trust me."
Those two words stopped him cold. She saw something shift in his silver eyes—conflict, fear, and finally, acceptance.
She stepped into the circle.
Immediately, the runes flared to life. Silver light erupted around her, forming a cylinder that reached the ceiling. Aria gasped as pressure slammed into her from all sides.
"The circle reads the soul," Moros explained, his voice echoing. "It shows us what you are. What you're becoming. And whether the Heart is controlling you... or you're controlling it."
The pressure intensified. Aria felt the Heart pulse in her chest, responding to the magic. Power surged through her veins, hot and hungry.
Show them, the Heart whispered in her mind. Show them what we are.
"No," Aria gritted out. "Not like this. Not as a trick."
Then how?
"The truth."
She closed her eyes and stopped fighting. Let the circle read her completely. Let it see everything—her fear, her determination, her growing feelings for two beings who shared one impossible soul.
The silver light exploded outward.
Images materialized in the air around her. Memories. Moments.
Aria as a child, stealing bread to survive. Aria at fifteen, running from her first demon. Aria in the crypt, touching the Heart for the first time. Falling into Hell. Meeting Hades. Cerberus' first kiss. The awakening. Everything.
The council watched in silence.
Then the images shifted. Showed things that hadn't happened yet.
Aria standing between Heaven and Hell, holding back a war. Aria crowned in shadow and flame. Aria screaming as the Heart consumed her from the inside. Aria dying in Hades' arms while Cerberus howled.
Multiple futures. Multiple possibilities. All equally real.
"Enough," Hades commanded, his voice cracking with power.
The circle died. Aria collapsed to her knees, gasping.
Both Hades and Cerberus were at her side instantly, supporting her.
"What did you see?" she whispered.
"Everything," Moros said quietly. "The truth of you. And the possibilities of what you could become."
"And?" Aria forced herself to stand, even though her legs shook. "What's your verdict? Am I a threat?"
The council members looked at each other. Then, one by one, they stood.
And bowed.
"You're not a threat, Lady Aria," Moros said. "You're a revolution."
"I don't understand," Aria said once they'd returned to a smaller chamber. Just her, Hades, Cerberus, and the inner council—Moros, Bael, and the smoke-woman whose name was Nyx's sister, Nox.
"The visions showed multiple paths," Nox explained, her form constantly shifting. "In some, you save us all. In others, you destroy everything. But in every single one..." She paused. "You choose. The Heart isn't controlling you. You're wielding it. That's never happened before."
"Lyssa couldn't control it," Hades said, his voice tight.
"Because she didn't have what Aria has," Bael said. He looked at Hades and Cerberus. "She didn't have both of you. Not truly. You were already fractured when you met her. Trying to hide your division. Pretending to be whole."
"Aria knows the truth," Moros continued. "She sees you as you are—broken, divided, desperate. And she doesn't flinch. That connection, that acceptance... it's stabilizing the Heart's power. Giving her an anchor."
"So what you're saying," Aria said slowly, "is that I can control the Heart because I'm in love with two halves of the same person?"
Silence.
Then Cerberus laughed—sharp and surprised. "She said it. She actually said it."
"I—" Aria's face heated. "I didn't mean—that's not—"
"You love us," Hades said, and his voice was wonder and terror combined.
"I barely know you!"
"Doesn't matter." Cerberus grinned, wild and beautiful. "You feel it. We all do. That's why this is working. Why you're not burning out like Lyssa did."
"This is insane," Aria muttered.
"Welcome to Hell," Nox said dryly. "Everything here is insane. You'll get used to it."
Moros cleared his throat. "Regardless of semantics, the fact remains: you three are bound. The Heart, the vessel, and the divided god. And that bond is the key to surviving the Reckoning."
"How?" Hades demanded.
"The merge," Bael said. "But not the way you think. You can't just force yourselves back together. That's what would cause the catastrophic loss of control the prophecy warns about."
"Then how?" Cerberus asked.
Moros walked to a shelf and pulled down an ancient tome. The pages crackled as he opened it.
"The Triad Ritual," he read. "An ancient binding that merges three souls into one cohesive unit. It was used in the old days when gods took mortal consorts. A way to elevate the mortal without destroying them. And a way to anchor warring souls together."
He looked up.
"You don't merge into one person, Lord Hades. You merge into three who share one soul. A triad. Connected but distinct."
"That's..." Hades' mind was clearly racing. "That's theoretically possible, but the cost—"
"Would be shared," Nox interrupted. "Three souls bearing the burden instead of one. The pain of merging, the risk of losing yourselves—all of it distributed equally."
"And Aria?" Cerberus' hand found hers. "What happens to her?"
"She becomes the anchor," Moros said. "The center point. The thing that keeps you stable. But it goes both ways. You'll keep her stable too. Keep the Heart from consuming her."
"A symbiotic bond," Aria breathed.
"Exactly."
Hades was quiet for a long moment. Then: "What's the catch? There's always a catch."
Moros' expression grew somber. "The ritual requires absolute trust. Absolute honesty. If any of you hold back, if any of you doubt, the merge will fail. Violently."
"And if it fails?" Aria asked.
"All three of you die. Instantly. Your souls torn apart and scattered across every realm in existence."
The words hung in the air like a death sentence.
"Five days," Bael said quietly. "You have five days to decide if you trust each other enough to risk everything. Or find another way."
"There is no other way," Hades said flatly. "The prophecy is clear. Merge or watch the realm fall."
"Then you know what you have to do." Moros closed the tome. "Prepare yourselves. Mind, body, and soul. Because once you begin the ritual, there's no going back."
They left the council chamber in silence.
Aria's mind spun with everything she'd learned. A ritual. A triad bond. The possibility of something she'd never imagined—three souls, one love, eternal and unbreakable.
If they didn't all die horribly first.
"I need air," she said. "Or whatever passes for air in Hell."
Hades led them to a balcony overlooking the underworld. The landscape was beautiful in a twisted way—rivers of lava, mountains of obsidian, a sky that pulsed like a living thing.
"This is your realm," Aria said quietly. "Everything you built. Everything you've protected for millennia. And you're willing to risk it all for... what? Me?"
"Yes," Hades said simply.
"That's stupid."
"Probably." He moved to stand beside her, his shoulder brushing hers. "But you were right earlier. I've been existing, not living. Ruling from a distance. Feeling nothing. Being nothing except duty and responsibility."
He turned to face her.
"Then you fell into my realm, and everything changed. You made me remember what it felt like to want something. To feel something. And I realized..." His voice dropped. "I realized that all the power in existence means nothing if I'm alone."
Aria's throat tightened.
Cerberus appeared on her other side, his human form solid and warm. "What he's trying to say—very eloquently, by the way—is that we're done running. Done hiding. Done pretending we can survive without each other."
"The three of us," Aria said.
"The three of us," they agreed.
She looked between them—god and beast, ice and fire, two halves of one impossible whole.
"I'm terrified," she admitted.
"Good," Cerberus said. "Terror means you're paying attention."
"But also," Aria continued, "I've never been more sure of anything in my life. Which is insane because it's been less than a week and I'm in literal Hell discussing a soul-binding ritual with two versions of the same person but—"
Hades kissed her. Soft. Gentle. Silencing her spiral.
When he pulled back, Cerberus immediately took his place. Kissing her deeper, hungrier, different but somehow the same.
When they finally broke apart, Aria was breathless.
"We have five days," Hades said. "Five days to prepare. To learn to trust each other completely. To become what we need to be."
"How do we do that?" Aria asked.
Cerberus grinned, wicked and promising. "Very carefully. And probably naked at some point."
"Cerberus—"
"I'm just saying, soul-bonding sounds intimate. Might as well be thorough."
Despite everything—the danger, the prophecy, the impossible task ahead—Aria laughed.
"You're ridiculous."
"You love it."
"I really don't."
"Liar."
Hades rolled his eyes but there was warmth there. Actual warmth. Like the ice was finally starting to thaw.
"Five days," Aria said, looking out over Hell. "Let's make them count."
Behind them, in the shadows of the palace, something stirred.
A presence that had been watching. Waiting.
And in the darkness, a voice whispered—ancient, malevolent, patient:
Let them have their five days. Let them think they have a chance. It will make destroying them so much sweeter.
Erebus was coming.
And he was hungry.