The Underworld was more alive than it had been in centuries, though not in the way Kore preferred. Souls flooded through the gates at an unprecedented rate, the once orderly process of judgment teetering on chaos. Even Charon, stoic as ever, had begun to complain of the endless line at the Styx.

Kore sat at the edge of the bed she shared with Hades, the faint glow of the Elysian Fields casting an ethereal light through the arched windows of their chamber. The weight in her chest grew heavier each night as she waited for him to join her. But when he finally arrived, his face bore the shadows of exhaustion, his once lively gaze dimmed with the burdens of his realm.

This night was no different.

Hades entered their chamber silently, the black robes of his station trailing behind him like a shadow. With each step he took towards her, his clothes withered away, leaving him only in some loose coverup. He smiled as he gently grabbed her face and kissed her, but found her response light.

"Have I done something?" Hades asked softly, his deep voice laced with genuine concern as he peeled back to look at her.

Kore let out a frustrated huff. "No, you haven't. That's the problem."

Hades sighed and lead her to sit on the bed, resting a hand on her knee. "I know. I'm sorry, my love. I miss you too. I've been preoccupied with... the increase in arrivals. The mortals are dying at an alarming rate."

Her brow furrowed. "Why is that?"

Hades hesitated before answering, his gaze heavy with reluctant truth. "Your mother. Demeter has... withdrawn. The fields are barren, crops fail, and famine spreads across the mortal world."

Kore's heart sank, guilt and anger warring within her. "Because of me," she whispered. "She's grieving because I'm here."

But Hades gave her a faint smile and reached up to caress her cheek and kiss her head. "Don't apologize for her. I understand her pain. Demeter's love for you is as fierce as it is boundless. If I ever lost you..." He swallowed hard, his voice softening further, "I'd likely do something just as reckless."

The sincerity in his tone struck her, and her guilt ebbed into something warmer, something tender. She placed her hand over his, leaning into his touch. "You wouldn't lose me," she whispered. "Not to anyone. Not to anything."

A faint smile tugged at his lips, and his thumb traced a soft line along her cheek. "You are the light of my eternity, Kore."

She closed the gap between them, kissing him softly, the frustration and guilt melting away under the warmth of his affection. His arms encircled her, pulling her close as if to shield her from the troubles of their world. For a moment, there was no famine, no grief, no separation—only the quiet strength of their love.

The next morning, Kore woke to an empty bed. The familiar chill of the Underworld's air felt sharper in Hades' absence. She sat up, the ache of loneliness giving way to a flicker of annoyance. With a sigh, she pushed herself up, deciding that waiting idly wasn't an option. If Hades was too consumed with the plight of the mortals, perhaps she could find a way to help.

After dressing, she made her way to the breakfast hall. Seated at a table carved from shimmering obsidian, she picked at her food absentmindedly, her mind churning with frustration and guilt. The soft chatter of her companions broke through her thoughts.

"What troubles you this morning, Queenie?" Selene asked, her silvery hair flowing like moonlight.

"Your face is too beautiful for such gloom," Helios teased, his golden eyes sparkling with warmth.

Eos chuckled as she sipped nectar. "He's not wrong, though. What's the matter?"

Kore sighed, setting her goblet down. "It's my mother. She's stopped tending to the earth, and mortals are dying in droves. Hades is overwhelmed, and I—" Her voice faltered. "I feel powerless. I want to help, but I don't know how."

The three siblings exchanged glances, their expressions thoughtful.

Helios ate his food and shrugged. "I don't know how we can help. We can only manage the light."

"Light..." Kore murmured, the seed of an idea beginning to sprout. "What if we used light to lead them? Mortals look to the sky for answers. Perhaps we can create a beacon to guide them to what they need."

Selene raised a brow, intrigued. "A beacon?"

"Something unmistakable, visible in the sky," Kore explained. "We could use light to show them where sustenance is, like water or surviving crops."

The siblings were quiet for a moment, pondering the possibility. Then Eos clapped her hands, her enthusiasm as radiant as her morning light. "We could do that! But how would they know what the light means?"

"That's where we experiment," Kore said, her frustration giving way to determination.

Together, the four of them worked tirelessly for days on end, testing different hues and patterns in the night sky. Selene conjured silvery beams, while Helios and Eos contributed golden streaks of sunlight, their combined efforts painting the heavens. Kore helped by seeking out sustenance and giving guidance to where the lights should go.

But as the lights danced across the sky, they realized the beams weren't enough. Mortals were drawn to them indiscriminately, wandering into danger as often as they found aid. Frustrated but undeterred, the team debated into the late hours.

Finally, Eos brightened, an idea lighting her features. "What if we used two distinct colors? One to guide them towards sustenance and one to warn them away from danger?"

"That could work," Kore said, excitement bubbling in her voice. "But which colors?"

Eos thought for a moment. "Green for life, for safety. And red for warning, to steer them away."

The others nodded, and they set to work again. With Selene's soothing touch, they created the vibrant green trails to guide mortals toward food and water. Helios' fiery light gave rise to shimmering red streams, warning of treacherous paths or danger. Kore watched the interplay of colors in awe, her heart swelling with hope.

When their work was done, the night sky blazed with the first hints of what mortals would one day call the northern lights. Kore leaned back, her face glowing with satisfaction. "It's beautiful," she said softly.

"And effective," Helios added, watching the mortals below begin to follow the lights.

Eos grinned. "We've done something good here."

Kore smiled, a glimmer of peace settling over her. For the first time in days, she felt like she'd contributed something meaningful. "Thank you," she said to the siblings. "Together, we've given the mortals a fighting chance."

The celestial siblings nodded, their light mingling with hers in quiet harmony as they watched the mortals respond to their luminous gift.

Kore later strolled through the Underworld, her steps light and buoyant as she took in the quiet transformation of her realm. For the first time in weeks, the oppressive atmosphere seemed to lift. The wails of lost souls had softened, and the endless lines to Charon's boat had diminished into manageable waves.

She paused by the Styx, watching the ferryman guide his barge to the shore. To her surprise, his normally dour expression bore a faint trace of relief. He caught her gaze and gave her a curt nod.

"Seems you've fewer hordes to ferry," Kore remarked, smiling.

Charon inclined his head, his gravelly voice echoing through the cavern. "It's been... a better day, my queen."

Kore beamed, her heart swelling with pride. Her efforts with Selene, Helios, and Eos had borne fruit. Mortals were finding sustenance, and for once, fewer souls were pouring into the Underworld. With a satisfied sigh, she continued her walk, her spirits lifted.

As she wandered through the darkened corridors, she heard a familiar low growl. Rounding a corner, she found Cerberus, his three heads perked up in curiosity. He bounded toward her, his massive paws thudding against the ground.

"Hello, my darling!" Kore greeted, laughing as the great beast nuzzled her affectionately with all three heads. She scratched behind his ears, and his tails wagged furiously.

Spying a gnarled knotted weed nearby, she picked it up and tossed it. Cerberus bolted after it, barking excitedly. They continued the game, Kore laughing as the massive guardian scrambled like a puppy.

A deep chuckle interrupted their play. She turned to see Hades leaning against a nearby tree, watching with amusement. His normally stern face was softened with affection.

"You're very animated today," he remarked, stepping closer. He bent to pick up a giant broken root and flung it far into the distance. Cerberus dashed after it, eager for the chase.

Kore grinned, and without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around Hades' neck. He caught her easily, his hands resting at her waist as she swung playfully in his embrace.

"I'm surprised to see you out of court," she teased.

Hades smirked. "I left Thanatos in charge for a while. It seems he doesn't need to go out collecting souls many souls at the moment."

Kore tilted her head, feigning innocence. "Oh? I wonder how that happened."

Hades raised a brow, catching her tone. "A certain nature goddess, perhaps?"

She giggled, her cheeks flushing. "I may have been working with Selene, Helios, and Eos. We found a way to guide mortals to food and water. The lights in the sky—those were us!"

His gaze softened with pride. "You've been busy."

"And it's worked," she said, her voice brimming with excitement. "Fewer mortals are dying. The Underworld is finally catching a break."

Hades hummed in approval, drawing her closer. "Impressive. Though I suppose it's fair to ask—are you too tired from all this work?"

Kore narrowed her eyes, a playful challenge in her expression. "Too tired? Hardly. I'm too excited to be tired."

Hades chuckled, his lips brushing against her ear as he nuzzled her neck. "Good. Because I was wondering how we might put your energy—and my free evening—to good use."

Her laugh echoed through the cavern, light and carefree. "You're incorrigible," she said, but she tightened her arms around him, her smile giving her away.

"And you love it," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple as he scooped her up in his arms against her squealing.

At last they had each other to themselves again. And again until their tireless exhaustion finally caught up to them and they asleep wrapped in each others' arms.