Hi, everyone! I apologize for the ridiculously long wait for this update. School has been kicking my ass and I haven't been able to set aside time for writing since any free time I've had I've used to study for midterms and other assignments. I wanna exhale in relief now that I finally got to finish this chapter. Believe it or not, I started a pretty good portion of it as soon as I uploaded the previous chapter, but due to the aforementioned reasons (and a couple others as well) I hadn't had the chance to complete it. 

I haven't even read the updates of a really good book I'm reading right now. If the author is reading this, just know I anxiously wait for this weekend when I've already turned in everything I need to so I can FINALLY sit down and spam your comment section! Lol

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Hades

The realm summons me. 

It calls upon its lord, its victorious advocate, weeping its tales of woe in indecipherable chants and sending messages by means of its faithful companion-- the melancholy gales of the Acheron.  

Perchance the Fates have found favor in the likes of Zeus and Poseidon for possessing authorities of vast charm, but nothing exists quite like the contact I reciprocate with the Earth's chassis. The very foundations of Gaea acknowledge me as an ally, the bowels of her womb as an intimate acquaintance. 

They aid me in my violent state of deep-seated panic, breaching the boundaries of Peace and Listlessness in pursuit of youthful coils of priceless obsidian. 

The image of the titans wading the shores of the Cocytus brought the child to the forefront of my mind, thus I sought out the insight of the land for evidence of his presence... only to come about empty-handed.

I am foreign to this disoriented mode of being-- this sensation of maddening restlessness that fixes its roots beneath my breastbone at the reflection that the child wanders the grounds of the Shadows in the absence of my oversight. 

We have long surpassed the relationship of ruler and subject, his cherub countenance has made certain of that. I can no longer seek rest without first being assured that he is within the safety of his chambers, easing peacefully into the illusive land of Hypnos' domain. 

Tendrils the color of a raven's feathers brushing against olive skin will forever remain impressed upon my mind, as will the soft murmurs of his exploits in the realm of his dreams, and the blissful remnants of his good ones evident in the flicker of his eyelids and the surreptitious trace of smiles on his lips. 

The months following Samantha's disappearance were spent administering undertaking after undertaking, until my days became inscrutable in face of labor and the concept of time eluded me. On days when my responsibilities became particularly tedious, I would wander into his chambers before his allotted slumber time to enfold him within his covers and on occasion, sing him Samantha's ballad. 

Within that period, I discovered that the fondness which previously assumed place beneath my breastbone had grown particularly intense. I worried for the child endlessly. I troubled myself with his safety, his whereabouts, his curiosity, his health, his development, his assimilation in Samantha's absence... I was constantly in a state of unease where he was concerned. 

I grew to depend on him. Immensely. 

Panic blinds my judgment as the cool bitterness of the unforgiving wind soon gives way to the smoldering kiss of Tartarus-- feeling fear constrict my ribcage and dry emptiness drain my lips of their life. The powerful gallops of the legendary beast heeding my command thunder so vociferously, each time her hooves chance upon soil the foundations of Gaea groan in miserable agony.

All which follows my swift search are the sounds of heightened breathing. Whether their relinquisher is god or steed, my mind can not decipher, for the only resident inhabiting room upon my contemplation is the child.

He is innocuous in thought and curious in nature. Time and his accomplices will certainly show him no benignancy should they chance upon him and perceive him in his unattended wanderings. 

They will surely inflict upon him great suffering, and that notion itself drives my fingertips to toughen about Alastor's reins, placing emphasis on the direction of the Cocytus' stream-- its furious waters yielding to me his location. 

Eyes of coal and tendrils of sable thread capture my interest as the torrid winds of Punishment caress his youthful countenance. His form is illuminated by the ocean of immortal flames, his back ignorant to the forthcoming faction of ancient evil eager for a sample of innocence. 

His sharp cries awaken my fury as the Evil one steps forward and reaches for him-- encircling his callous hands about the child's neck, startling him and coaxing a strangled gasp from his lips as he stiffens his fingers in their precarious positions.  

His expression betrays naught as he squeezes once-- rendering the boy so still I feared Thanatos himself would be bested upon his soul's approach. 

"Where is your savior now, you pestilent thief?" 

Dark eyes consumed by nothing but terror, the child remains silent-- opting instead to return the titan's fervent gaze... almost lifelessly.

Light could rival not Alastor's velocity.

I plead with Fate that Lachesis avert her sister's shears from grazing his thread. I have beheld its likeness with my own eyes, and its vibrancy is too resplendent --too treasured-- to be disposed of as waste. 

Of all children, not this one. Not this boy. 

"You have committed the ultimate of sins, my child. You have tampered with forces so ancient, Gaea weeps for your corpse."

Each muscle and tendon within my body tenses to a degree unknown to man and god alike. Fastening my helm about my jaw, I narrow my gaze upon the nearing figures and lean forward-- striking the reins so vigorously, Alastor gripes in agony as despite her protests I exerts us into the atmosphere. 

In one swift but blunderous motion, I extend an arm and seize the child by his torso -- obscured in silent invisibility, aided by sluggish experience-- going unperceived to Kronos' vexed surprise. His thunderous dissent goes unacknowledged as my awareness befalls the child.

Coiling my arm about his shoulders, I bring him into the warmth of my breastbone-- feeling that tears may very well spill onto his curls of slate. Fear outweighs the scales of peace in my conscience as he remains unmovable in my embrace for several asphyxiating moments. It is not until my fingertips reach his countenance that I chance upon fresh tears-- bringing profound relief to my aching chest. 

I venture further to the easy slope of his neck, discovering raw flesh there and wounds that make him cry out-- alerting Kronos to our station.

His weak eyes search for but a moment before his godly perception veers his attention to our location a mere five meters away. His lips skew upward, if only slightly. 

 "You have grown unwieldy in my absence, Aidoneous. There once existed an age in which his cries would be perceived naught for hundreds of miles."

His observation is met with inflamed silence. Had a drop of liquid substance made contact with Poseidon's roaring waters, it would have been perceptible to our audible senses. Even his men whose functions remain ungainly in face of thousands of year of incarceration, lie wait in skilled stillness. 

His voice is all which stains the torrid gust, all amiability surrendered to the relentless scorch of Tartarus.

"Cede the child."

Silence, again.

"If you do not relinquish the thief, I will seize him by force."

If anger was palpable, Kronos would certainly perceive it now-- though it did not discourage him.

"Very well."

With two fingers, he summons Crius-- a titan who betrayed his very kind in allying alongside Kronos during the Great War. He has not yet taken a step in our direction before I summon the earth with a palm and he is suddenly plunged into the entrails of cursed soil-- swallowed by the ravenous voracity of Gaea's core. 

Time heeds not his sounds of agony, his gaze unflinching forth. It is then I speak.

"Kronos, the youth you knew is now man. To provoke insurrection in a realm foreign to your rule is imprudent, to have laid hand upon the child of its master is symptom of foolhardiness so potent it rivals that of its mortal counterpart. "

Before he can release a second exhale, I beckon the soil's chassis and one by one, his men are surrendered to the altar of concrete imprisonment-- a method foreign to the vitals of Hades until now. 

"Appeal to Ouranos, for only he can save you now."

Lifting a palm to the complaints of the scathing whirlpool to our west, I summon the chains of eternal thralldom towards his idle form. But, to my consternation, they do not appear. 

Again, I summon their likeness, yet they rebuff my command a second instance and recoil to the depths of the searing vortex-- foreign to my influence. Taking note of the domain's dismissal, Kronos produces a pleased chuckle, taking a step back into a shroud of dusty winds. 

"It seems the realm begins to remember its rightful wielder, Aidoneous. You can not impede the inevitable, only delay its arrival."

In a second, he dissolves into nothing but carbon remnants. 

Only silence follows his departure. 

 Beside me, even the wounded child remains quiet. Turning to the shores of the domain with great displeasure, my brows crease in reflection. Time is unable to wield his power in the absence of his heart. If relinquished even a third, his mere presence weakens the infrastructure of linear time and places in jeopardy the imprisonment of all those condemned to Tartarus. 

If my portion remains undisclosed, what of the second and third? The day Poseidon plunged his trident upon Kronos' breast we reached the only agreement we have ever decided upon in absence of quarrel. We would each harbor a portion in a location unknown to the other two. 

Thus, if my fraction remains hidden, who surrendered his own?

A sharp cry disrupts my contemplation, drawing my attention to the lacerations on the child's neck. Golden fluid bleeds from the masticated skin above his collarbone, an ever present reminder of his covert godhood. It is sufficiently bright to distract from the lesions, but his pain is too profound, and his cries continually pause in their sound for several intervals before returning full force. 

Removing my helm and dismounting from Alastor, I reach for the weeping child-- assuring myself to be gentle. Wordlessly, I lower myself to his stature, easing his worries in whispered assurances before placing a palm about the wounds on his neck-- summoning the coolness of my power to ease away the raw, chewed flesh.  

His whimpers soon give way to light coughs as inky shrouds of mist dance about the depths of his wounds, healing them in their entirety before diffusing their scars on the surface of his skin.

Lifting a couple fingertips to his collar, the child searches for any remnants of the titan's hands,  coming about empty before he violently embraces me with a muffled sob. In an instant, I too am clinging to him.

One arm is enveloped about his back, the other on his head as my entire body shields him from other potentially unexpected visitors.

"Young man, you can not possibly fathom what anguish you have caused me. If you wish to wander the grounds of this realm, you must approach me for admission beforehand. Always. You understand?"

He buries the tip of his nose into my neck as a response.