Twenty-four hours.
That's all they had to prepare for a ritual that could either save them or destroy everything.
Aria stood in front of a mirror in a chamber she'd never seen before. The room was circular, with walls made of living crystal that pulsed with inner light. Runes covered every surface—ancient protection wards, according to Moros.
"The ritual chamber," Nox had explained when she'd brought Aria here at dawn. "It's been sealed for three thousand years. Not since the last god-binding has it been used."
"Comforting," Aria had muttered.
Now she stood alone, staring at her reflection. Her eyes still held traces of silver. Her skin seemed to glow faintly, like she was lit from within. The Heart pulsed steadily in her chest—calm, waiting, anticipating.
"Are you sure about this?" she asked it. Asked herself.
The Heart hummed in response. Not words, but a feeling. Certainty. Rightness. Like all the chaos and terror of the past week had been leading to this exact moment.
"You better be right," Aria whispered.
The door opened. Nox entered carrying an armful of black fabric.
"The ritual requires specific attire," she said, laying the garments on a stone bench. "Nothing binding. Nothing that restricts movement or breath. The souls need to flow freely between the three of you."
Aria touched the fabric. It was impossibly soft, almost liquid against her fingers.
"Shadowsilk," Nox explained. "Woven from the essence of the underworld itself. It'll help conduct the magic. Keep you grounded while your souls merge."
"And if the merge fails?"
Nox's smoke-form rippled. "Then at least you'll die in something comfortable."
"Your bedside manner needs work."
A ghost of a smile. "I'm a demon, not a nurse." Nox moved toward the door, then paused. "For what it's worth, Lady Aria... I hope you succeed. My sister died protecting you. I'd hate to think she wasted her death on someone who'd give up before the real fight even started."
The words hit like a physical blow.
"I won't give up," Aria said quietly. "I promise."
Nox nodded and left.
Aria stood alone in the ritual chamber, feeling the weight of everyone's hopes pressing down on her shoulders. Nyx had died for her. The realm was counting on her. Hades and Cerberus were risking everything for her.
"No pressure," she muttered, beginning to undress.
Hades stood in his war room, surrounded by maps of the underworld.
Bael and Moros flanked him, both looking grim.
"The wards are holding," Bael reported. "But barely. Whatever Azrael did, it weakened the fundamental structure. We've reinforced what we can, but if something powerful enough hits them..."
"They'll shatter," Hades finished. "How long?"
"Best case? Three days. Worst case?" Moros' white eyes were troubled. "Hours."
"And Erebus?"
"Still no sign of him. But his followers are moving. Gathering at the outer edges of the realm." Bael's expression darkened. "They know something's happening. They're waiting."
"Let them wait." Hades' hands pressed flat against the table. "Once the ritual is complete, once we're bound, we'll be strong enough to face whatever comes."
"My lord." Moros' voice was careful. "You understand what you're risking? If the merge fails, Hell loses its king. The realm will descend into chaos within hours. Civil war. Anarchy. Everything you've built for millennia, gone."
"I know."
"And you're still willing to risk it?"
Hades looked up, his silver eyes burning with something beyond cold logic. "For the first time in a thousand years, I'm willing to risk everything. Because living without her, without him..." He gestured vaguely, meaning Cerberus. "That's not living. That's just waiting to die."
Bael and Moros exchanged glances.
"You love her," Bael said. Not a question.
"Yes."
"And him? Your other half?"
Hades was quiet for a long moment. "I spent a millennium hating what he represented. The weakness. The vulnerability. The dangerous, reckless emotions I couldn't afford." He straightened. "But he was right all along. Cutting yourself in half doesn't make you stronger. It just makes you broken."
"So you're ready to be whole again," Moros said.
"I'm ready to try." Hades moved toward the door. "Whatever happens tonight, whatever I become... promise me something."
"Anything, my lord."
"If I lose control. If the merge turns me into something dangerous..." His voice dropped. "Kill me. Don't hesitate. Don't try to save me. Just end it before I destroy everything."
"My lord—"
"Promise me."
Moros bowed deeply. "You have my word."
Hades left the war room, each step feeling heavier than the last.
He had hours left as himself. As the cold, controlled god who'd ruled Hell for millennia.
After tonight, he'd either be something greater... or nothing at all.
Cerberus prowled the palace in his beast form, all three heads alert.
Something was wrong. He could feel it in the air—a wrongness that made his hackles rise and his teeth bare.
Someone was watching.
He shifted to human form, wanting hands and the ability to speak. The transformation still felt strange—like putting on a skin that didn't quite fit. But it was getting easier each time. The boundary between beast and man blurring more with each passing hour.
"Show yourself," he called into the shadows.
A figure emerged. Tall. Hooded. Radiating power that made even Cerberus' instincts scream danger.
"Bold," the figure said, voice layered like a thousand speakers at once. "Demanding I reveal myself in my own realm."
"Your realm?" Cerberus' hands ignited with dark fire. "This is Hades' realm."
"Is it?" The figure moved closer, and reality bent around it. "Or is it simply borrowed? Held in trust until the true darkness returns?"
"Erebus."
The figure pushed back its hood, revealing a face that was beautiful and terrible—perfect features carved from living shadow, eyes that held the void itself.
"The beast speaks my name," Erebus smiled. "I'm honored."
"What do you want?"
"What I've always wanted. Balance. Order. The natural hierarchy restored." Erebus circled him slowly. "Your so-called king has upset that balance. Split himself. Weakened Hell. Allowed mortals and mercy to corrupt what should be pure, absolute darkness."
"Hades built this realm—"
"Hades stole this realm," Erebus corrected. "From those who came before. From Chaos itself. And now he plays at love and redemption like they're virtues instead of weaknesses."
Cerberus' fire burned hotter. "If you've come to stop the ritual—"
"Stop it?" Erebus laughed. "Why would I stop it? Please, proceed. Merge your souls. Bind yourselves to the mortal vessel. Become exactly what you think you need to be."
The casual permission sent chills down Cerberus' spine. "Why?"
"Because, dear beast, you're doing exactly what we want." Erebus leaned closer. "That girl, that precious vessel carrying the Heart—she's not just any reincarnation. She's a key. And when you three bind your souls together, when you pour all that combined power into one unified force..."
Erebus' smile widened.
"You'll open the lock. Release what's been sealed since the dawn of creation. And Chaos will rise again, stronger than ever before. Fed by the very power you used to try and stop it."
Horror crashed through Cerberus. "No. That's not—we wouldn't—"
"You will. Because you love her. Because Hades loves her. Because the Heart has already started rewriting reality around her." Erebus stepped back. "The ritual will work, beast. You'll merge successfully. You'll become the triad you're meant to be. And in doing so, you'll doom everything."
"Then we won't do it. We'll find another way—"
"There is no other way. The prophecy has already been set in motion. Choose the ritual, and you release Chaos. Refuse it, and Hell falls anyway as the realm tears itself apart." Erebus' form began to fade. "Damned if you do. Damned if you don't. Such is the nature of prophecy."
"Wait—"
But Erebus was gone, leaving only echoes and the smell of ozone.
Cerberus stood there, his mind racing. He had to tell them. Had to warn Hades and Aria that the ritual might be exactly what their enemies wanted.
But even as he thought it, he knew the terrible truth.
It didn't matter.
They had no other choice. The wards were failing. Chaos was rising regardless. And the only chance they had—the only slim hope of survival—was the very thing that might destroy them.
"We're screwed," he muttered.
Then he ran to find Hades.
Aria was dressed in the shadowsilk when both of them burst into the ritual chamber.
"We have a problem," Cerberus said.
"Erebus was here," Hades added. "In the palace. He got past every ward we have."
Aria's stomach dropped. "What did he want?"
"To gloat." Cerberus' expression was dark. "He told me the ritual is exactly what they want. That binding our souls will somehow release Chaos."
The words hung in the air like poison.
"That's impossible," Aria said. "The ritual is meant to strengthen us, not—"
"Unless it's a trap," Hades interrupted. "Unless the prophecy was designed from the beginning to lead us here. To make us think we had a choice when really..." He stopped, his hands clenching. "We've been dancing to someone else's tune this entire time."
"So what do we do?" Aria demanded. "We can't do the ritual because it might release Chaos. But we can't not do it because Hell will fall anyway. We're trapped."
"No." Hades' voice was sharp. "We're not trapped. We're being tested."
He moved to the center of the chamber, where the ritual circle was already drawn in silver light.
"Erebus wants us to doubt," Hades continued. "Wants us to second-guess ourselves, to go into the ritual afraid and divided. Because that's what will make it fail. That's what will tear our souls apart and feed whatever's waiting in the darkness."
"Or," Cerberus said slowly, "he's telling the truth. And we're about to hand Chaos exactly what it wants."
"Maybe." Hades looked at both of them. "But here's what I know. I've ruled Hell for millennia by being cold. Logical. Making the smart, safe choice. And where has it gotten me? Alone. Broken. Dying by inches while pretending I'm fine."
He stepped into the circle.
"So for once—for the first time in a thousand years—I'm going to make the stupid, reckless, completely insane choice." His silver eyes found Aria's. "I'm going to trust. Trust you. Trust him. Trust that what we feel for each other is stronger than some ancient curse or prophecy or cosmic manipulation."
"That's not logic," Aria whispered. "That's faith."
"Yes." Hades smiled—small, genuine, devastating. "It is."
Cerberus looked at Aria. "What do you think?"
She thought about everything that had brought them here. The fall. The awakening. The impossible connection between three souls that shouldn't fit together but somehow did.
"I think," Aria said slowly, "that Lyssa told me to choose love over power. And maybe this is what she meant." She moved toward the circle. "Maybe the only way to beat Chaos is to not play by its rules. To not choose the logical, safe option. To just..." She stepped into the circle beside Hades. "Jump."
Cerberus stared at them both. Then he laughed—wild and free and utterly reckless.
"You're both insane."
"Completely," Aria agreed.
"And I love you for it." He shifted to human form and stepped into the circle, completing the triangle.
The moment all three of them were inside, the runes ignited. Silver light erupted around them, forming a cylinder that reached the ceiling.
"This is it," Hades said. "Once we start, there's no going back. If we die—"
"We die together," Aria interrupted. "I can live with that."
"So can I," Cerberus added.
Hades took a breath. Then he began to speak in a language older than time itself. The words of the Triad Ritual.
The chamber trembled.
Outside, in the deepest darkness of the underworld, something stirred.
And smiled.