Unlike the desperate and chaotic state of the Norse pantheon where the scent of war and despair still lingered in the air like smoke after a dying fla, the Underworld of Hades was basked in a peace so serene it almost felt sacred.
The atmosphere was neither cold nor oppressive as mortals often imagined, but calm, luminous, and filled with the soft hum of divine power that resonated like a heartbeat through the realm itself.
At this mont, the Lord of the Dead sat quietly in the garden of Deter, his expression unusually gentle as he watched his children play among the blooming obsidian flowers and rivers of silver light.
Hades, the man who once ruled the depths with solemn dignity and unyielding isolation, now found himself surrounded by laughter and life, an irony that both amused and ward him.
His eldest daughter, Nekyria, the child born from his and Gaia’s union, was running barefoot across the luminous grass.
Despite being the oldest among them, she remained in the form of a young girl, eternally curious, eternally innocent, as if her mind and body was untouched by the weight of divinity or ti.
The earth itself seed to move in rhythm with her joy, petals and dust rising as if celebrating her presence.
Hades couldn’t help but smile; Nekyria was a reminder that even death and darkness themselves could produce sothing pure.
Beside her, Eros, his eldest son with Aphrodite, fluttered around with his small white wings gleaming under the soft radiance of the garden’s light.
He had inherited his mother’s golden hair that shimred like dawn, and his father’s piercing purple eyes that carried the calm of twilight.
Though he looked no older than seven, his aura rippled faintly with the primal energy of love itself—an energy that could both heal and destroy worlds.
He would sotis shoot invisible arrows at his siblings, giggling as they glowed briefly with light hearts floating above their heads, before Ilithyia scolded him.
Ilithyia, Hades’ daughter with Hera, sat regally on a floating cushion of divine energy, watching her brothers with mild exasperation.
Her long silver hair flowed like starlight, and her eyes—one golden, one violet—reflected both judgnt and compassion.
She carried herself like a young empress, her every movent asured, her speech formal, though every so often a mischievous smile would break through her calm deanor.
Even at her age, she exuded the commanding grace of her mother and the quiet authority of her father.
Not far from them, Mageus, son of Hecate, was absorbed in his own little world.
Purple-haired and purple-eyed like his mother, he was creating small magical constructs, a floating orbs that danced in the air like miniature moons.
Occasionally, he would mutter incantations far too complex for his apparent age, bending shadows and light together into symbols only gods could decipher.
When Eros and Ilithyia annoyed him, he simply turned invisible, which always led to Eros panicking and Ilithyia sighing in defeat.
Hades was incredibly satisfied with his children. Although if there is sothing he regretted about them, it is the fact they cannot grow or transcend if the universe stayed as is.
After all, these four are special.
All four of them, though outwardly appearing to be children, radiated an overwhelming potential that even the cosmos struggled to contain.
Their divinity was so vast, so beyond the comprehension of the current universe, that reality itself suppressed their growth, locking their power behind the barriers of existence.
He and Nyx, along with other Primordials knew it well, that these children were destined for sothing far beyond even their own understanding.
But with how the universe is, they wouldn’t be able to achieve their true potential.
Well, not until the day ca when this universe rged with others—forming a Hyperverse, a boundless realm of infinite realities expanding without limit—only then would their true potential would no longer remain dormant.
When that ti arrived, when the very fabric of existence evolved to accommodate them, these children would awaken, and their growth would be unstoppable.
They would transcend even the gods who birthed them, becoming forces that shaped creation itself.
And as Hades watched his children play and laugh under the golden glow of the Elysian sun, his lips curved faintly.
He thought to himself—perhaps for the first ti in countless eons—that even for a god of death, life could be beautiful.
He really has to thank his wives for giving all of these to his life.
The garden of Deter echoed with laughter.
He watched with a soft smile as the garden of Deter shimred like a sea of light, flowers blooming in impossible colors, with golden lilies that whispered, silver roses that glowed faintly with souls of blessed mortals, and rivers flowing with silver luminescence instead of water.
Butterflies made of light flitted between the petals as the Underworld itself seed to hum with life, a miracle that only Hades’ children could bring.
Little Eros was flying clumsily above the grass, his small white wings flapping too fast for his little body.
He was trying to shoot tiny arrows of light toward Mageus, who kept vanishing every ti one ca near.
"Stay still!" Eros shouted, pouting as his next arrow hit nothing but air.
A faint voice replied right beside him, "You missed again."
Eros spun in panic, only to see Mageus reappear upside down, floating cross-legged midair, reading a book that shimred with violet runes.
"That’s cheating!" Eros protested, puffing his cheeks. "Magic is so unfair! You’re not playing fair at all!"
Mageus smirked faintly. "No, it’s called strategy. You should try it sotis. After all, I don’t want my brother to grow up dumb."
Eros growled and puffed his wings, charging toward him, but before he could reach, Ilithyia raised a hand and both boys froze midair, surrounded by a soft golden aura.
"You two are giving a headache," she said with a sigh, sounding far too much like her mother, Hera. "Eros, stop shooting arrows everywhere. Mageus, stop turning invisible. Do you want to scare those poor divine spirits again?"
"But he started it!" Eros whined, pointing at Mageus.
"And you continued it," Ilithyia replied sharply, letting them drop gently to the grass. "Now behave before I call Mother."
At that, both froze in horror.
"Not aunt Hera please. Just call my mom." Eros muttered.
"Or mine, just no aunt Hera." Mageus added under his breath.
Unlike Aphrodite and Hecate, who were quite willing to spoil their children, Hera was completely different.
As a queen, she expects her children to act in a manner befitting a noble.
She is incredibly strict and would punish anyone who misbehaved.
"Then behave."
anwhile, Nekyria was sitting by the riverbank, her feet dipped into the shimring water, humming softly.
Her voice carried through the air like a lullaby that could make even the restless souls of Tartarus sleep.
Around her, flowers blood instantly—dark violets, black lotuses, and glowing white lilies, all swaying in rhythm with her song.
When she noticed her siblings’ antics, she tilted her head and giggled. "You’re all so noisy. The river spirits are complaining again."
Eros, with a sheepish grin, flew toward her and sat beside her, hugging her arm. "Sorry, big sis. But Mageus is an!"
Mageus raised an eyebrow, still floating lazily above the grass. "Am not. You’re just mad that you can’t beat ."
"What!? I’m totally winning! You are just cheating!"
"Still winning."
"Hah! So you admit that you’re cheating!"
Before Ilithyia could scold them again, Nekyria clapped her hands, and a wave of soft energy pulsed outward.
Suddenly, glowing petals surrounded all four of them, swirling like a tiny storm of light.
"Now, now," she said with a bright smile. "Let’s play sothing else. No magic, no arrows, just sothing fun that we siblings can enjoy."
"What do we play then?" Mageus asked, his curiosity piqued.
"Tag!" Eros shouted imdiately.
But Ilithyia, crossing her arms, frowned. "Tag? That’s childish."
Eros smirked. "You’re just scared you’ll lose."
That did it. Ilithyia’s princessly pride flared up instantly. "Fine! But don’t cry when I win."
And just like that, the divine children of Hades, the future transcendent beings, began chasing each other through the glowing fields of the Underworld.
Their laughter rang across Elysium, rippling through the soul streams, reaching even the quiet halls of judgnt where Hades sat and listened, the faintest smile on his face.
For a mont, the Lord of the Dead felt sothing he had not felt since the day of his marriage —contentnt.
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