CHAPTER 84: A GOD IN MORTAL SKIN

While lying in bed, he thought about something.

If he left to find the Cyclops... the Underworld would be exposed.

He couldn’t let that happen.

Once Hermes healed, the gods would be free to move again—to travel between realms, even the Underworld. And if they came here... his soldiers wouldn’t stand a chance. Not against all of Olympus. They’d be crushed. Erased.

He needed something permanent. A seal. A wall. A curse.

Something that made this place untouchable.

He had to make it harder. For everyone. God or not.

So he lay still, shut his eyes, and let the silence take over.

There had to be something. A way to seal this place. Something even Olympus would think twice before crossing.

That was his last thought before the dark took him.

And when he opened his eyes, his bed was gone. And he was no longer in the Underworld.

It was stormy—but not like thunder or rain. No lightning cracked the sky, no water fell from above. It was... different.

Like he was inside a dark cloud. Heavy. Cold. Alive.

The air churned with small cyclones, spinning slow and low across the ground like they were breathing. The ground itself felt unstable—shifting beneath his feet like smoke pretending to be stone.

And in front of him... were three women.

Silent. Still. Watching him closely.

The first one was young. A girl, maybe twelve at most. She didn’t say a word. Just sat there, cross-legged and quiet, like she was waiting for something. Her fingers moved slow, pulling a long black thread through the air like she’d done it a thousand times before.

The second one was strange. Half her face was smooth, untouched by anything, like it hadn’t aged a day. The other half sagged, lined deep with time. She ran her fingers down the thread again and again. She wasn’t pulling, but just feeling it. Measuring something only she could see. Her eyes didn’t blink. Didn’t move. Like even she wasn’t sure which half of her still belonged to this world.

The third one was old. Older than anyone he’d ever seen. She didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Wrapped in layers of pale cloth, she held a blade in one hand. Not raised, but just waiting to cut it. Sharp. Still.

He took a step forward, the wind brushed past him like cold breath.

"Where am I?" he muttered. "And who the hell are you?"

His voice didn’t shake. It came out sharp—ready, like a blade drawn halfway.

The youngest of the three stepped forward. Her eyes held no fear.

"We are—"

The second cut in, her face split down the center—half smooth, half withered.

"—the—"

And the oldest, her voice rough like dried leaves, finished without blinking.

"—Fate Sisters."

"What do the Fate Sisters want with me?" he asked, his voice low but steady.

The youngest stepped forward, her gaze gentle.

"We came here," she said, "to deliver a message."

The second, half-young and half-worn, took over without pause.

"It’s from Hades. He left it with us long ago."

And the eldest, her voice brittle but clear, finished the thought.

"We were told to give it to you... when you were ready."

They handed him a glowing dark orb.

The moment it touched his palm, it pulsed—then shattered into light.

Flashes of memory surged through his mind, flooding him with a vision.

He was sitting on his throne, shoulders heavy. His skin looked pale, almost gray. Drained. Like a man who knew the end was near.

"Hello, son... if you’re listening to this—"

He paused. His tone was soft, quieter than when he first met him.

"—that means I’m gone. And the Fates’ prophecy came true."

He lowered his eyes for a moment. When he looked up again, his voice was quieter.

"Kael... what happened to me wasn’t your fault. I chose it. I chose this. On my own will."

"I’m sorry," he said, his voice cracking just slightly. "Sorry I placed such a burden on you."

"A burden you don’t have to carry."

He paused again and took a short breath.

"It’s not a burden, Kael... it’s a curse."

His eyes met the vision’s lens directly—hollow, but determined.

"You don’t have to take that responsibility. Let the other gods handle it."

He tried to smile. It came out crooked. Weak.

"Just... live your life."

Then, softer—almost a whisper:

"Keep your mother safe."

He swallowed hard.

"She has no one but you now."

His eyes lowered, then lifted again one last time—softer than before.

"And no matter what path you choose... I’ll be proud of you."

"I have no regrets. Because in the end... I gave the woman I loved the one thing she wanted."

He smiled—small, tired, but real.

"A child."

Then the light drove into his body.

The breath caught in his throat—sharp, wrong. His knees gave out, and he dropped. He didn’t scream. Couldn’t. The sound just wouldn’t come.

The pain didn’t explode. It sank in slow, wrapping around his ribs like it was trying to burrow its way inside.

He pressed his hands to the ground—only to find it shifting beneath him. It wasn’t solid. It was not real.

He gasped—short, uneven, like breathing was something he had to relearn.

His throat clenched around nothing.

Behind him, one of the sisters spoke.

"We warned him," the youngest muttered quietly. "Told him not to have a child."

The second didn’t wait long.

"It would be the death of him."

The eldest, voice rough like crumbling stone, finished the thought.

"But he only wanted to make his wife happy."

Kael lifted his head, barely.

His face was wet. His lips were cracked. The words trembled out like glass.

"What... do you mean?"

The youngest Fate stepped forward first, her eyes filled with a distant sorrow.

"You see... Queen Persephone longed for a child."

The second, her face half-youth and half-withered, continued without pause.

"But the gods forbade it. A prophecy had been spoken—of a child born from Death and Spring. A child who would unravel Olympus."

The eldest, her voice cracked and slow like creaking stone, picked it up.

"So they bound them. Forced Hades and Persephone to swear upon the River Styx... to never bear a child together."

The youngest’s tone softened.

"But Persephone’s heart ached. So Hades gave her what he could—demigods. Born of mortal women. Gifts meant to ease her pain."

"They didn’t last," the second said, her voice now colder. "They were hunted. Torn from her. Easy prey for Titans... and the wrath of Olympus."

"With each death," the eldest rasped, "your mother withered. She starved herself. She withdrew from the world. Until... Hades gave her a daughter."

The youngest smiled faintly—just for a moment.

"She loved that little girl with everything she had."

Then the second stepped forward, her gaze sharpening.

"But one day... the girl vanished. Just gone. No answers. No gods came."

"And Persephone blamed them," the eldest said, each word weighted with finality. "The silence drove her mad."

"Hades could not bear it," the youngest whispered. "Not her grief. Not another death."

"So..." the second said, eyes narrowing, "he broke the oath."

Snap.

The eldest raised her hand and made a cutting motion through the air.

"The moment the vow shattered, his string was cut. His fate... sealed."

For a breath, none of them spoke.

Then, together, they turned their eyes to Kael.

"They had a child," the youngest said gently.

"A true son," the second added. "Of shadow and spring."

"But they could not raise him," the eldest finished. "So they did the only thing left."

"They hid that child," the youngest continued.

"They placed that soul inside the womb of a mortal," said the second.

Then the eldest pointed at him, her voice quiet—final.

"That... is how you were born."

"I’m... not a demigod?" Kael whispered, questioning everything he thought he knew.

The Fates laughed in perfect sequence. Not cruelly—but like they had been waiting centuries for him to ask.

"You are," said the youngest, her tone almost teasing.

"Yet you are not," added the second, her half-aged face tilting slightly.

"That’s what makes you dangerous," the eldest finished, her voice dry and final.

"Even Zeus fears you," the youngest said, stepping forward.

"Demigods grow faster, stronger," the second spoke, circling him slowly.

"They adapt like no one else," the eldest continued.

"They can defy Fate," the youngest whispered.

"They aren’t bound to one world," the second said. Her voice was soft, but heavy.

"They can walk the Underworld," the eldest rasped. "Survive Tartarus. Ascend Olympus."

"You," the youngest said, pointing at him, "are a god."

"A god," the second echoed, "born in a demigod’s skin."

They all laughed again—sharper, louder, like strings being plucked in harmony.

"You kept all the benefits of divinity," the youngest said.

"Without the chains," the second added.

"Think about it," the eldest said, leaning forward.

"You’ve beaten gods," the youngest stated. "And lived."

"No demigod your age could do that," the second said.

"They thought you were just another lost child," the eldest continued.

"Until you nearly killed Hermes," the youngest growled.

"Now they know," said the second, her tone shifting colder.

"You’re alive," said the eldest.

"You’re no longer safe," finished the youngest.

"They believed Iapetus had killed the son of Hades and Persephone," the second said.

"They thought you were nothing," the eldest whispered. "A mere demigod."

"But how wrong they were," the youngest grinned.

"That human skin," the second said, "was the perfect disguise."

"Now they see you," the eldest added, narrowing her eyes.

"They know who you are," the youngest finished. "And the prophecy still breathes."

Silence stretched... like the pause before a string snaps.

Then the youngest leaned in, her voice lower.

"You know the rest, don’t you?"

"Your village was attacked," the second said.

"Your mother hid you," the eldest added.

"The gods thought you were dead," the youngest said.

"But Nyx found you," whispered the second.

"And the rest..." the eldest smiled darkly.

"...is history," they said in unison.

Kael just stood there.

Frozen.

His body didn’t move. His mind did—but it felt distant, disconnected. Like he was watching from behind his own eyes.

He wanted to speak.

To question.

To deny.

But no words came.

Not even a breath passed his lips.

And the Fates—

They didn’t stop.

They didn’t even give him a chance to speak.

"You were born to break the cycle," the youngest said.

"You were not meant to exist... and yet, you do," added the second.

"The moment you drew breath, Olympus began to tremble," the eldest finished.

"You hide it well," the youngest continued. "But the gods feel it."

"They feel the shift," said the second, "the unraveling."

"You are the fulcrum," whispered the eldest. "The thread that cuts other threads."

Kael’s fists clenched slightly—he didn’t even realize it.

Still, he said nothing.

Still, they didn’t let him.

"Your time in hiding is over," the youngest said.

"They will come for you," warned the second.

"All of them," the eldest said. "Even those who once called you ally."

"And when they do..." the youngest leaned in, voice cold as fate.

"You’ll have to choose," the second added.

"Let go..." the youngest said.

"Or become," whispered the second.

"...what you were always meant to be," the eldest finished.