Then came another

In a cavernous grotto hidden behind a cascade of silent water, a young man awoke. It was not a sudden awakening but rather a slow drift from the veil of sleep, his mind surfacing through layers of dim dreams that clung like mist in the half-dark of the cave.

His amber eyes opened, gleaming faintly in the twilight of the room, and he stretched, yawning as though even in the secrecy of his sanctuary he moved with deliberate calm.

The young man looked to be nearing adulthood, but his form carried a timelessness, as if he had been etched from the shadows themselves.

His hair was dark, the ends fading into the same amber that touched his gaze, a mirror of firelight in still water. With a wave of his hand, he summoned the faint scent of clean air; it washed over him like a breeze, leaving no trace of sleep upon his skin.

Another wave, and black and gold robes materialized around him, robes that seemed to shimmer with the sheen of forgotten twilight as he strode silently from his sleeping chamber.

The air in this cavernous hideaway was still, old with the timeless patience of stone and shadow. It had been years since Hades had found himself in this dimension, a small, floating island adrift in a forgotten pocket of the Titan realm.

The island was a strange place, no larger than a small city, barren and desolate save for a single stretch of forest at its center.

There, trees grew twisted and gnarled, bearing fruits that gleamed with unnatural colors, with creatures that watched from the shadows, beasts that had never known the light of day. It was a place caught outside the cycle of time.

In the silence of his morning ritual, Hades found the kitchen. With a flick of his wrist, various ingredients levitated from cupboards and pantries he had conjured long ago, an enchantment that kept his stores magically replenished.

He set to work preparing a simple meal, his mind wandering as he stirred and seasoned, humming a tune that seemed to drift up from the distant shores of memory.

"It's hard to tell the time here," he mused aloud, his voice a soft murmur that blended into the silence. "But I feel as though years have passed since I was swallowed into this forsaken place."

He had learned to survive, adapting to the harsh air that felt like needles in his lungs, wrestling against the realm's suppressive weight that dampened his divinity.

The environment resisted his every breath, every movement, yet with each day he grew stronger, weaving his will through the land's desolation, shaping it, and in some ways, becoming part of it.

When his breakfast was ready, Hades carried his meal to the table, a simple wooden structure he had crafted in one of his first lonely months.

The cavern, in truth, was no mere cave—it was a home, conjured with his divine power, an echo of the comfort he had never quite known, yet imagined all the same.

It was small, warm, filled with enchantments and artifacts that made it feel almost, just barely, familiar.

"Thank you for the food," he murmured in a half-smile, as though the air itself could hear his gratitude.

As he lifted his fork, a soft ripple spread through the air before him, like a single stone thrown into a still lake. Out from the shimmering void flew a raven, its feathers a dark purple sheen, eyes glinting with a silvery intelligence.

"Ah, Ciel," Hades greeted, his voice warm with affection. "Good morning. Did you have a pleasant flight?"

The raven gave a soft caw, a sound layered with a mischievous humor, before a voice entered his mind, smooth and gentle as velvet.

"Good morning, Master. My flight was pleasant indeed," she replied, her mental voice lilting with amusement. "And I come bearing news, as always."

Hades raised a brow, listening intently as he poured a bowl of fruit, placing it across from him for Ciel, who alighted on the table, feathers ruffling in satisfaction.

Ciel was more than a companion; she was a familiar, an extension of his will, crafted to gather whispers from the edges of the world beyond this prison.

With her, he could reach out, touch the world that had, until recently, seemed forever beyond his grasp.

"Well," he prompted, a wry smile on his lips. "What news of the outside?"

Ciel's silver eyes gleamed with excitement. "It seems the Titan Queen has given birth to her second child," she said, her voice edged with curiosity.

"And—this very morning—your father, the King, has devoured the newborn daughter as he did with you."

Hades felt a pang that was both rage and sorrow, his heart tightening with the knowledge. He could still remember the cold gleam in Kronos's eyes, the unfeeling grip, the soundless void as his father had cast him into the shadows.

It was a memory both distant and near, yet seared forever into his soul.

"So," he murmured, voice heavy with the weight of prophecy and defiance, "another sibling… already taken by him."

Ciel watched him with a gentle, sympathetic gleam, sensing the quiet fury that stirred in his heart. The raven nibbled delicately at a berry, her head tilted to one side, her gaze both observant and knowing.

"Will she survive, as you have?" she asked softly, her voice like a distant echo in his mind.

Hades looked down, his hand clenched as he considered the fate of his sister. "I cannot say," he replied, his tone hollow. "I only hope she has the strength to endure what I have endured."

Breakfast finished, Hades rose from the table, stretching as he prepared for his daily regimen. It was a ritual he had honed over countless hours, a blend of exercise and meditation that had become the bedrock of his days.

First came the physical conditioning, exercises that pushed his body to its limits, each movement a refining of his strength, each breath a lesson in endurance.

The cavern floor became his arena, and he trained with a fierce precision, fists cutting through the air in strikes honed from the memories of ancient martial arts, stances fluid and powerful.

And always, the weight of his own gravity seals pulled at him, dragging him into the earth with an invisible force, an anchor that grew heavier with each passing week.

These seals were a self-imposed challenge, enchanted restraints that responded to his growing power, ensuring that he would never reach a limit, that he would always push beyond.

With every punch, every step, he could feel the reservoir of his Divine Power simmering within him, a silent storm waiting to be unleashed.

In the afternoons, he would turn his focus inward, molding that divine energy with a practiced hand. It was a power born of both body and spirit, drawn from the dual wells of stamina and soul, forged into something greater than the sum of its parts.

Through this practice, he had discovered that Divine Power was a substance unique to gods and spirits, a raw potential to shape reality itself, if wielded with precision and restraint.

He had learned to harness it in fragments, to thread it through the fabric of his mind, carving spells that would protect, enhance, and conceal.

But here, in this place where time itself was fractured, he had learned the greatest lesson of all: that control, not strength, was the true measure of power.

To wield without waste, he thought, focusing on the energy that flowed through him. To bind without burden.

After his training, Hades would venture out into the forest with Ciel at his side, the raven taking to the air to scout, her keen eyes tracing paths through the underbrush, alert to the creatures that lurked within.

Some days, the hunt was quiet, a simple game of stealth and patience.

Other days, it was a battle, and Hades would draw upon his Divine Power to strike down beasts that towered over him, creatures with teeth like swords and claws like daggers, their roars echoing through the caverns as he felled them with ruthless precision.

Yet this day, as they ventured to the edge of the forest, a strange ripple surged through the air, a shiver of magic that hummed against his senses.

"Hades," Ciel whispered, her voice taut with urgency, "something… something has breached the realm."

Hades stiffened, a surge of anticipation sparking through him. The raven's silver eyes flashed as she soared higher, her mind linking with his, her vision spilling into his own.

Through her eyes, he saw it—a figure tumbling from above, hurtling toward the colourless sea that stretched below the floating island.

A girl, wreathed in silvery light, her features distorted by the shimmering waves that lapped hungrily below. She cried out, a scream that echoed through the air, sharp with fear and pain.

"My sister," Hades murmured, a thrill of recognition tightening in his chest.

Below her, a dark shape glided through the water—a monstrous crocodile, black-scaled and sharp-toothed, its mouth yawning wide as it rose to meet her descent.

Without a thought, Hades was moving, his steps quick and sure, his mind a razor focus as he summoned his power.

The spell surged from his fingertips, a rush of wind spiralling around him as he hurled himself from the cliff, hurtling down toward the scene below.

He reached her just as the beast's jaws snapped shut, its teeth missing her by mere inches. With a roar, Hades cast a shield of shimmering energy around them, deflecting the creature's snapping maw, forcing it back with a surge of divine will.

The girl gasped, her gaze wide and fearful as she looked