Zorya sat quietly in the dimly lit chamber, her body still aching from the injury she had barely recovered from, thanks to the little magic she could control. She had her back against the headboard, her eyes closed.

She couldn't shake the lingering weakness that pulsed through her. The mission had been brutal, and even with her celestial healing, the toll had been heavier than usual.

Her hands, though steady, trembled slightly as they rested in her lap, as if mocking her weakness. She hated it. She hated the price she had to pay each time she used her abilities—the exhaustion and feeling of being drained. But it was better than having to deal with the pain.

She knew this was not something Persephone meant, when she told her to rest and heal, but the nymph was simply too restless to simply sit around and wait for it to heal naturally. She wanted to help, act, do something, anything.

But even with her magic, the wound would still take some time to fully heal.

The doors creaked open, and she didn't need to look up to know who it was. Hades' presence was unmistakable—cold, commanding, and oddly calming.

"You should still be resting, Zorya," he said.

The glanced towards him, her lips pulling into a faint smile.

"I am resting," she replied quietly, her tone laced with quiet defiance. "But I doubt that you're here just to check up on me."

Hades chuckled, though it held no warmth. She already got used to it—the only people he showed true emotion to were his wife and children. But she still knew that in his own way, he grew to care for her, too.

"Always sharp, even when you're wounded," he remarked, then sighed. "I need you to accompany me. There's someone I want you to meet."

Zorya hesitated.

"Who?" she frowned.

Hades didn't answer, simply extended a hand. Reluctantly, she rose, wincing as the pain flared in her side once more. It was a distant echo of what it once felt like, but it still wasn't something pleasant.

But she said nothing, slipping into the shadows with him as they moved deeper into the Underworld.

*****

Seraphim had no idea where he was. He could feel something was really off and as much as he hated to admit it, it filled him with fear. The surrounding were unfamiliar, shrouded in fog and darkness.

He felt the need to defend himself, but he had no weapons on him. Wait... Where was...?

Reaching his hand out, he focused on the bident he's been using for years, now. Never once had it failed him, always returning to him when he called for it. It became an extension of him, something he never parted with for long.

But he couldn't feel it, which meant it was either hidden by something greater than him—most likely a god—or it was not there. Both options filled him with dread.

However, suddenly he felt it—the comforting aura his weapon always gave off, making it possible for him to track and call it back. He focused on it, willing for it to return to him.

And it worked. Or at least he thought he did.

He jerked to the side the last second, or the bident would've stabbed him right through the head. Instead, it flew right past him, into a hand of someone, who stood behind him.

How had he not noticed someone was watching him all along?

"You've used my bident well," they said.

The demon whirled around, narrowing his eyes on the stranger.

"Who are you?"

"Someone you should pay great respect to," another voice echoed, sounding from right behind him.

Seraphim whirled around once again, taking a few steps back to keep track on unknown creatures he had on both sides. He could see their shapes in the fog better now—one was of a man, and the other of a woman.

The man moved first—a tall, muscular man with pale skin adorned with purple markings, purple, short hair, and a black beard, with a few streaks of grey. He was wearing black robes and golden jewels.

"Now, now. There's no need for that. He's just confused. They all are, in the beginning," the man told the other being, who just scoffed.

Then, he turned back to Seraphim, who was watching him with narrowed eyes, almost as if trying to decipher whether he could take him in a fight, or not.

"Hades," was all the god said and the demon's eyes widened suddenly.

Just as suddenly, the fog lifted, revealing the Underworld all around them. Now, he could see the truth and it scared him—the fiery river, the old wooden boat he found himself in, the desolation stretched out in every direction, vast and empty.

He vaguely registered that his form also changed, his skin going from the light bluish-grey he got so used to, turning to translucent blue, instead. And it scared him more than he cared to admit, but he didn't let it show, as he faced the god once again.

Hades stood tall, exuding power, his piercing gaze fixed on Seraphim, as if studying his every move. But the other figure—Seraphim's eyes flicked to her as the fog fully cleared—was a woman, her presence strange and unsettling.

The moment Seraphim saw her, he could feel something... off. She stood just behind Hades, her posture calm yet somehow alert, like she was measuring him the same way he was her. He quickly glanced towards the spot, where he heard the second voice come from earlier, but there was no one there.

He turned back towards the two beings, his attention focusing on the woman. Her hair, midnight black streaked with faint threads of silver, caught what little light there was, and her skin seemed to shimmer faintly.

Her eyes met his—a blend of violet and silver—and he felt an odd sense of familiarity, though he was sure they had never met before.

There was something in her gaze, something layered and complex, that made his skin crawl with unease. She radiated both light and shadow, but it was the shadows that seemed to cling to her more fiercely.

Unable to bear the eye contact any longer, he turned his gaze away, looking towards what looked like a temple, looming in the distance. Just looking at it filled him with unease, unlike anything he felt before.

"It's far worse than you can imagine," Hades said, noticing where Seraphim's eyes went. "But I can help you. We both can. Save you from the fate that awaits you there."

"Who is she?" Seraphim glanced towards the woman, who was still silently watching.

"This is Zorya," Hades said, breaking the silence, "One of my most trusted. You'd do well to listen to her."

Seraphim's eyes darted between them, his mind racing. And while the fear that had gnawed at him moments ago still lingered, it was now tempered with frustration and the sense of having been cornered.

"As I was saying, I can help you. I just need you to do one thing for me."

The demon looked at him, his eyes filled with desperation.

"Kneel," Hades' smile was cruel, filled with malice.

The desperation that Seraphim held in his eyes disappeared just as quickly, turning into rage and defiance. He grit his teeth and let out an angry roar, that echoed all around them. But neither Hades, nor Zorya seemed like they were going to relent.

When Seraphim noticed this, he settled on glaring at the two beings.

"What do you want?" he spat.

"Justice," the god said simply, the word rolling off his tongue with the gravity of finality.

His eyes gleamed with something more dangerous beneath that promise. They gleamed with well-hidden pain and rage. With hatred and torment that's been fostered carefully for centuries.

"Don't you want to be free, once and for all? That's what I'm offering you.

Seraphim hesitated. Trusting Hades was dangerous, and the god's intentions were rarely pure. That much he had already learned. None of the gods wanted to help him in life. Why should one want to, after he died?

"Why would I trust you?" the demon spat.

Hades' gaze grew colder.

"Because those that ruined your life... ruined mine. And let's be honest, you don't have a choice," the god glanced towards the building in distance. "It's either eternal judgment or me."

The demon narrowed his eyes at the two beings, his lips curling in a sneer. For a moment, Zorya truly believed he might go along with what the god was saying. But she was proved wrong, as Seraphim's jaw tightened.

"I choose judgment."

Hades' face was a mask of indifference, but there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes. The demon stood tall, defiant. He had endured enough torment to know when his back was against a wall, and this time, he wasn't about to let someone else control his fate.

*****

Once Seraphim was taken away by Charon, and Hades returned to the palace with Zorya, he turned towards the nymph.

"What do you make of him?"

She hesitated, searching her memory for any sign of something that might help them. Seraphim's defiance was fierce, but there was something more in him—something raw and fractured, but not beyond repair. She could see the cracks in his anger, in his torment.

"I'm... not sure yet," she admitted. "But he could still be useful. He's strong, determined. He'll just need... special care. Guidance."

Hades' lips curled into a faint smirk, though his eyes remained as cold as ever. This was what he was hoping for. For something he could use for his advantage. And he had a perfect opportunity. A new pawn with potential.

"Good. Then guide him, then. Coax him if you must. He'll either break, or he'll prove his worth."

The nymph mirrored his smirk, though her mind was already elsewhere, lost in thoughts of the past.

This wasn't the first time she had crossed paths with Seraphim. He didn't know it, but their fates had brushed together before, years ago.

She had been working from the shadows then, unseen, unnoticed. She was just walking around the forest after a meeting with her sister, when she had found him, half-dead, lying on the forest floor with an arrow lodged in his side.

He had been reckless back then, driven by the same anger she saw in him now. But even as he bled out, there was still that defiant fire in his eyes, the refusal to give up.

Although Zorya wasn't sure why she didn't act directly back then, she had guided the priestess of Artemis, to him. She was the closest mortal, able to help him. She had brought the woman to Seraphim's side, ensuring that he would survive, if only barely.

The priestess had been the one to save him, and he had never known that Zorya had orchestrated the encounter from the shadows. After making sure that the priestess spotted him, she left them. There was nothing more to be done there.

She had wondered what became of him after that. Whether he had learned anything from the near-death experience, or whether he had simply returned to his path of destruction.

And now, standing here in the Underworld, seeing the torment in his eyes once again, she had her answer. He hadn't changed—not entirely. But she could see the new pains and anger in him. They weren't the same she saw in him back then, but something deeper and more profound.

Zorya kept her expression neutral as her thoughts raced. Hades would expect her to manipulate Seraphim, to turn him fully to their cause, to break him if necessary. But something deep within her stirred—a strange reluctance. She didn't want to break him.

No, what intrigued her was the possibility of moulding him. There was power in Seraphim's defiance, but also a vulnerability that she couldn't ignore.

"What is it?" Hades asked, his sharp gaze slicing through her thoughts.

"Nothing," Zorya shook her head slightly, offering him a small, knowing smile. "Just considering how best to handle him."

"He'll resist," Hades continued. "But that's what makes him valuable. The harder they fight, the more they are worth when they finally fall in line."

Zorya glanced at him, her expression unreadable, though a flicker of something dark crossed her gaze. She didn't like the tone in Hades' voice. There was an edge to it, one she heard him use few times before.

"And if he doesn't fall in line?" she asked quietly.

The god was quiet for a moment.

"He will. One way or another," he said, his voice soft but full of dark intent. "Make sure Seraphim understands what's at stake."

Zorya nodded, though her thoughts lingered on the memory of Seraphim lying broken on the forest floor.

"Of course, my lord."

*****

Seraphim had no idea what to make of the offer. Ever since Hades and the nymph disappeared, he's been thinking it over and over again, debating whether or not he should have accepted it.

But it was too late to turn back now. He made his decision and he intended to stick by it.

Instead, he focused on what was coming next—his judgment. The one he had chosen for himself instead of serving yet another god.

When Charon's boat finally reached the shore, Seraphim stepped off with confidence. He hoped he looked braver than he actually felt. He forced himself to focus on his anger and disgust, keeping his expression hard, though the fear gnawed at him beneath the surface.

He knew he had no chance at Elysium—not after everything he had done. But maybe he could avoid Tartarus. Maybe he would be sent to Asphodel or somewhere less cruel. He wasn't sure, but he knew his odds were low.

He looked around and saw a Shade waiting for him there. The creature gestured for him to step forward. The demon did so and approached a glowing eye built from gold and blue stone in the ground.

He hesitated only for a second, before stepping on it. Once he did, his form was suddenly coaxed in a bright, red glow. His eyes widened, as feeling returned to his limbs and body.

He had a physical body once more. He wasn't just a transparent blue form anymore.

But he had no time to wonder, as another Shade approached him, shackles in hands.

"Show me your hands," they rasped out.

Scowling, Seraphim held out his wrists, and the creature locked the cold metal around them. The scowl deepened when he felt a cold hand on his back, pushing him forward.

"Keep moving."

He was led into the temple. The corridor ahead stretched on, the faintest glow flickering at the end. The walk down the hall seemed to be even longer.

His mind started to wander once more, pondering whether or not he should have accepted the offer. It raced with possibilities of where he might go after the judgement. It made him more nervous than he anticipated.

Finally, his thoughts were cut short as his vision suddenly brightened. They reached the judgement room.

Looking up, he saw three judges sitting on a balcony above. He remembered the legends—those were three bastard children of Zeus. They were just like his brother. And yet, they were so different.

The three sons of Zeus were weak, in his eyes. Born to power but never rising to its true potential. His brother, on the other hand, was raised poor and mistreated by villagers, who went on and possessed such power only few can dream about.

But just as he was about to look for more comparisons, his gaze went up. There, on a lone throne above the balcony, sat Hades. The god kept his face impassive, as he merely watched the demon.

"Do you know who we are?" one of the kings asked, bringing Seraphim's attention back to them.

"The kings... who stand judgment," he said answered, the title bitter on his tongue.

He always had a problem with those, who had more power. Those who ruled. In his experience, the only thing they brought was pain and terror, never bothering with the feelings of those around them. The only thing they focused on were their own wealth and happiness.

"You have sent many to stand before us. More than any other mortal-born man," the middle king stated. "Now, you will stand in judgment, like all those you sent here. This is but a small taste of the fury you unleashed on the world."

As he said that, he summoned a spark, that formed a glowing circle before them. In the circle, some of the events he'd rather forget played out— a younger version of himself hiding in the trees, killing all those men... when it all started.

"Not since the 30 tyrants have we seen bloodshed like this. You killed guilty and innocent alike," the king said, as he showed how Seraphim killed one of his cousins, then the woman he murdered the night he attacked the polis where his brother used to live. "Mere association was enough to draw your wrath."

Another murder, this time of the man he recognized as his uncle's cousin. He cut the man in half, simply because of the man's ties to the usurper. Before that, he had never even seen the man.

Thud. Thud. Thud. The kings tapped their staffs on the railing and three coins dropped into the scale, on the side where his wrongdoings were measured.

"And then, there is the matter of your mother. And brother," the king said and Seraphim's face hardened.

Although the demon would never admit it out loud, this was one of his main two regrets. Everything else, he learned to ignore or simply forget. But this was something that haunted him still.

"You didn't know who they were when you first crossed paths with them. But you recognized their anguish. You bore it as a child," the image in the sphere changed once again.

It showed the moment Seraphim would never forget—the moment the woman he thought to be his mother, the woman who raised him, was killed.

"But instead of showing mercy, you tried recreating the pain and horror you endured."

The scene changed once more—it showed Heron fighting the demons, trying desperately to get to his mother, only to be taken down by Seraphim himself.

In the background, the demon could see a woman coming out of the forest and fight against some of the demons. He remembered her too. Lyra. A dear friend of his brother.

Then, another flash, and the circle showed the moment Seraphim threw his bident and impaled the woman crawling towards her son and the girl.

"To light a fire in the one you wished to convert."

He remembered that moment clearly. Back then, he thought Heron to be nothing more than another man filled with pain and anger, like most of those who sought to join demons' forces. The demigod had a great potential to become someone important in their ranks.

Same with the girl. She was strong and intelligent, not to mention skilled with bow. She would climb high, maybe even to the same hight as Heron.

But it all changed when the truth came into the light.

"But the breadth of that weight is not yours alone," the king continued, breaking Seraphim out of his thoughts. "It's shared by another."

This time, the image showed a goddess Seraphim knew all too well—Hera. It showed as she waved her hand and directed a cape, that was flying in the wind, towards the familiar looking hut. The same wooden hut where his mother and some other villagers hide.

With a clang, another, smaller coin dropped into the scale.

"And while your life was filled with horrors, you were not without some small kindness," the king said, and Seraphim could swear he heard his voice soften slightly. "In fact, with her, you showed true philotimo. And dare I say, agape."

The image changed once more. It showed a breathtakingly beautiful woman, with golden skin and emerald green eyes. She always wore a veil that covered her hair, but one lock was always on display, no matter how many times she tried to tuck it away.

Seeing her again brought pain and heartbreak he didn't expect. He couldn't help the pained gasp that ripped itself out of his throat.

Gorgo.

The only person, other than his adoptive mother, that showed him kindness. That didn't judge him for his appearance or his deeds. No, she loved him. She was the only person who cared and gave him a reason to keep going, even when everything else failed. She was his light in the dark, his salvation.

And yet...

"I've seen years of brutal villainy redeemed by a single act. One truly good measure can be more than many make in a lifetime," the king finished.

Thud. Only one of the kings tapped his staff against the railing. A single coin dropped into the scale of good deeds. It was nowhere near enough to balance the scales.

But he never expected them to.

"Your fate is clear," the king declared. "Do you repent?"

For a moment, Seraphim felt the urge to say yes, to maybe grasp at a chance for a better afterlife. But then, he remembered the truth—lies were pointless here, where everything was laid bare in the Underworld.

And the truth was simple. He didn't regret most of what he had done.

He knew exactly what he deserved.

"No," he answered honestly.

He glanced up and saw the kings exchange looks. Looking even higher up, he saw Hades' eyes widen. Seraphim barely stopped himself from smirking. This was the exact opposite of what the Lord of the Underworld was expecting. This was not the part of some grander plan the god had prepared for him.

"Listen well, Seraphim," the king said, his voice harsher this time. "All men make mistakes. But good men yield when they know their course is wrong. They repair the evil they have wrought. Thus, the only true crime is pride, which you are most certainly guilty of. Repent now, so that we may show mercy."

The demon almost wanted to scoff. Mercy was not something he believed in. He didn't want it. He didn't deserve it.

"I refuse," he declared.

"Repent, you fool!" Hades exclaimed and in that moment Seraphim was sure that the god did not have a plan for this course of action. "If you don't, your punishment will be far worse."

That's what Seraphim was hoping for.

"I want nothing from them. Or you," the demon was not going to give in.

"We should cast you into the abyss!" one of the kings shouted, raising from his seat.

"No," Hades immediately protested, also raisin up from his throne.

The silence that followed was uncomfortable and tense. The kings looked up to their rulers, almost as if unsure if they heard him correctly. But the god paid them no mind, as he kept his focus on the demon.

Finally, the middle king sighed.

"You will suffer an eternity in Tartarus," he said, his tone final. "May your fate there burn the pride off your soul."

A Shade stepped forward, grabbing Seraphim, ready to drag him away. But the demon wasn't finished yet.

"Do I get to speak?" he asked.

He got no reply. They didn't grant him his request, but they didn't deny either, so he took it as a permission and continued.

"You're cowards. Who are you to judge me, bastard sons of Zeus?" Seraphim spat, glaring up at the kings.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a Shade raise a whip, and braced himself for the strike, but it never came.

"Let him speak," Hades demanded.

Seraphim shrugged off the Shade's grip and took a few steps closer, his anger focused on the judges once again.

"They were all born kings. Given kingdoms by their father. And what did you do? How many youths did you feed to the Minotaur, King Minos?"

Minos' glare deepened, his anger palpable, though he remained silent. The tension in the air between them grew, but Seraphim wasn't done.

"And you, King Rhadamanthus, did you give freedom to your people? Or was your love to reap what others sowed too great?"

Rhadamanthus' expression was more controlled than his brother's, but Seraphim could see the simmering distaste beneath his calm facade.

"And let us not forget you, pious King Aeacus. Zeus made ants into men, so you could rule them. But they were better off as insects than to be ruled by the likes of you," the king looked like he wanted to protest, but the demon didn't let him as he continued. "If the Underworld reveals truths, then here's one you can't deny. I murdered and pillaged because no one was free. No one was secure. It was impossible to be decent and survive in your forsaken kingdoms."

By the end of his speech, he spat on the ground, his contempt clear. That was the final straw.

The middle king tapped his staff and not even a second later, a Shade struck Seraphim with his whip. The blow landed hard, and though Seraphim had expected it, the pain still burned. But instead of crumbling under it, he let the pain fuel his anger, making him stronger.

When the Shade prepared to strike again, Seraphim was ready. He caught the end of the whip, yanking the Shade forward. Without hesitation, he drove the spiked end of his elbow into the creature's throat.

The second Shade rushed at him, but Seraphim was faster. With a swift turn, he plunged the same spiked elbow into the Shade's chest.

But even as the bodies fell, the ground beneath him trembled. Rhadamanthus' eyes gleamed with cold authority as he tapped his staff once again, summoning something far worse than the Shades.

From below, the earth groaned, and a massive abomination rose from the depths. Its monstrous form was unlike anything Seraphim had faced before, its twisted limbs and gnashing teeth radiating pure malice.

The demon had no time to react. The creature struck with terrifying speed, a powerful blow landing squarely on him before he could move.

The impact sent him crashing to the ground, the strength of the abomination overwhelming him instantly. Before he could even think of raising to his feet, the abomination struck once again, knocking the demon out, leaving him defenceless against the continued onslaught.

Above, Hades watched in silence, his displeasure etched in the coldness of his gaze. His plan had just gotten a lot more complicated.