Pitchfork

by Nicole Scarano

  Alkaios raised his arms and encircled his fingers about his wife’s shoulders, forcing all of his dark energy into Hades. Smoke snaked from their bodies, encircling both husband and wife until raging power consumed them. The tentacles twisted and churned, ensnaring Hades’ wrists before diving into the stone. Behind him, Alkaios felt the hands of Keres and Hydra rest upon him, lending their support, and one by one the Olympians followed suit. Together they formed a web of limbs, each and every god linked in unity. Strength flowed from one body to the next until all connected with the three gods at the gate, and as soon as the last hand joined, a shock ripped through the room.

  Power raged through them. The air pulsed with palpable waves, and the door vibrated with rattling tension. It bucked beneath their palms, opposing their force, but the gods did not give way. They forced their blood into the stone, their solidarity driving it deep, and slowly, the grain began to seal itself. The rock knit together to reform a solid surface, devoid of any cracks and blemishes.

  The gate flared hot against Hades’ flesh, the Old Ones resisting the gate’s healing with all their strength, and Hades loosed a scream. Her limbs trembled as she urged her power further into the temple stone. Her hands burned. Her skin begged for reprieve, yet Hades refused to back down. Beside her, Charon’s breath labored, and Zeus’ roar tore through the temple with raw, visceral pain. Together, their anguish and struggle mixed with the anger that oppressed them on the opposing side. Their bodies shook. Their vision blurred, yet still, they held, the rock knitting closed at a sluggish pace.

  Knowing they could not hold on for much longer, Hades peeled her hand from the door and grasped her father’s weapon tight in her bloody palms. It had been his power that sealed the gate those centuries ago. It had been the Omega who had ended it. She was now the Omega reborn, her father’s heir, and once again it fell to her to be the end. With trembling, exhausted limbs, Hades lifted the pitchfork and with astonishing force, slammed the twin prongs into the stone with a lung-piercing scream.

  The jolt that rioted through the temple shook the mountain to its core, a charge so intense it ripped through all who stood joined to the Omega. As power vacated her veins and flowed through the ancient weapon, Hades’ eyes went dark. Her hearing muffled, and her limbs numbed. She fought against the pain. Her voice screamed in rage, refusing to yield, and with a violent groan and heave from the earth beneath her feet, Hades collapsed into darkness.

  His voice was the first she heard - the voice she loved with a fierce devotion. Hades’ eyelids peeled apart. Her head shrieked in agony at the dim light, and her lids clenched shut, returning her to the blackness.

  “Hades?” It came again low and laced with concern. His calloused palms cupped her cheeks, and when she did not open her eyes, he scooped her against his chest.

  “Is it done?” Hades breathed, her lungs stinging. A collective sigh rippled through the room, and Hades finally forced herself to look up when she felt Alkaios’ fingertips press against the swell of her belly.

  “It is done.” Alkaios studied this woman his soul craved, love seeping from his skin into hers, and Hades lifted her bloody fingers to his stubbled, handsome face. That was all the encouragement Alkaios needed. Within a breath, he closed the space between them and covered her mouth with his. He kissed her deeply, enveloping Hades in his arms as if he meant to never let her go.

  Eventually, Alkaios released her lips, much to her heart’s protest, and Hades gulped air breathlessly as her fingers left his face to find his hand. She flipped it over and studied the slice on his skin that mirrored the one on Zeus’. Her mind retraced time and realized Zeus’ blood had already been spilled when she had arrived. Hades’ gaze searched the host of disheveled gods, and Poseidon anticipated her searching and twisted his palm, revealing he, too, bore a matching wound.

  “A blood oath?” Hades asked, scrutinizing Alkaios’ face. He answered with a smile and unable to release her, pressed a kiss to her forehead.

  “I witnessed firsthand what hatred did to the Titans.” Zeus stepped forward. “I thought the evils of my father poisoned them, but look what hate and greed did to the first gods. How long before that becomes us? We are now brothers in blood and in name. Since humanity knows your husband as Hades, god of the Underworld, let it be known that Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades are the three greats of Olympus, brothers who will stand together from this day until the end of our days. Our predecessors perished by violence, and we cannot allow our sins and pettiness to destroy us. Let us give our children no reason to slaughter their parents to save the world.” At his words, Zeus knelt beside Hades and rested his palm against her belly, feeling the strong life growing within her.

  “Thank you,” Hades whispered through cracked lips. Her fingers found his bloodied hand and clenched it weakly. Zeus flashed a quick glance at Alkaios to ensure he was not overstepping and then planted a kiss atop Hades’ head.

  “While the world may recognize you only as Persephone, Queen of the Underworld,” Zeus continued, “You will always be our Hades. The Omega - the end of all ends and the true god of death. Know this, when we rebuild our holy mountain, a seat on our council is yours. A throne will rise from the stone beside your husband’s at my left hand. Hades and Persephone rule together, both in the Underworld and on Olympus.” Zeus’ voice fell silent, and he shifted toward Alkaios. The dark king nodded his head, and Zeus clapped him on the shoulder respectfully before returning to his feet.

  “Hades.” Poseidon stepped forward. He bent and grasped her hand in his and lifting it to his lips, pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Do not go opening any more doors.”

  At his words, the tension dissipated, and a few voices released laughter into the room. A smile brightened Hades’ face, and Poseidon’s handsome eyes winked playfully as he clapped Alkaios on the back.

  “I will see you soon, brother,” Poseidon promised Alkaios. “Now what do you say we go and repair our mountain,” he continued as he joined Zeus. “The Underworld might have been our salvation, but I am looking forward to a home that is not dead, even if it is in ruins.”

  “I could not agree more,” Zeus smiled and reached his hand out to a disheveled Hera. His wife rushed to him, clinging to him beneath the protective pressure of his arm. Their bodies began to vibrate as they prepared for their departure, and Hades lifted shaking fingers into the air. With a shuddered breath, she released all the strength she had left. Dark tendrils licked and devoured the wounds of the suffering Olympians, and together in tumultuous smoke, they vanished from the temple for their holy mountain.

  As soon as they were alone, Keres and Hydra flew to Hades. They enveloped her in their warm embrace, and even Chimera limped forward and laid his heavy weight across her legs. Keres smothered Hades’ filthy face with kisses while Hydra clutched her hands and cried. Chimera’s rumbling purrs reverberated throughout his mother’s chest, and all the while, Alkaios refused to release his wife from his hold.

  “Your son?” Keres asked through her sobs.

  “Strong,” Hades whispered.

  “Like his mother,” Alkaios said and pressed his lips to the back of Hades’ head when the air cracked with a violent wave of wind. The ground thundered, and in a heartbeat, Chimera bolted to a stand and settled his battered mass before the huddled group. A protective snarl seeped past his fangs, and for a terrifying moment, all froze in fear of the worst.

  Without warning, Hades leapt to her feet and raced into the darkness. Alkaios and Keres exchanged bewildered looks and scrambled after her, Hydra and the lion hard on their heels. They tore through the temple at a breakneck pace and burst out into the open.

  “Hades?” Alkaios called as the fresh air caressed his cheeks. The ashen sky was slowly clearing above them, allowing slivers of sunlight to pierce the ground as Hades raced through the rubble. She ignored her husband’s question and searched frantically through the debris. Her eyes peered behind every boulder until they landed on a shredded ribcage panting with fragmented gasps.
Plummeting to her knees, Hades scooped one of Kerberos’ bloodied and bruised faces into her arms. She gathered his head close to her breast, tracing his flayed flesh with delicate fingers. Tentacles of inky power drifted from her skin to seep into his, trying to heal his battered body. Kerberos was so utterly broken that for long moments she waited with bated breath for the dog to breathe his last breath, yet struggle as he might, Kerberos drew one ragged inhale after another.

  “You cannot leave me,” Hades whispered into her god-killer’s ear. “I need you, my darling. I love you.” Tears rolled down her stained face and onto his leathery hide, and as she sobbed bent over his ribs, the dog stirred. Slowly at first, his side head lifted and with a weak slobbery tongue, he licked the tears from her cheeks. Hades jerked back in surprise and watched in awe as he raised his three heads and pressed them against her womb.

  A smile broke Hades’ sobs, and her arms snaked around his thick neck. This was not the great hellhound’s end. It was a new beginning, for as Kerberos’ beloved mother clung to him, Alkaios settled beside his three heads. He wrapped one arm lovingly around his wife and rested his other on the hound’s side. Chimera was next to join them, lowering his body to the dirt at Kerberos’ belly. His warm back insulted the dog’s healing abdomen. Lastly, Keres and Hydra knelt beside their raven-haired queen, their tentative hands resting lightly on the god-killer’s three heads.

  Kerberos had been both created and destroyed by the first Omega, but as he lay there battered and bruised, his ears listening to his mother’s thudding heartbeat, he was granted a new life. This Omega was his, and she loved him. She loved them all, and as they clung together among the rubble of the ruined temple, the proof of Hades’ love radiated from the tiny soul growing in her womb beneath Kerberos’ head.

  Epilogue

  Hermes strolled through the sunshine, enjoying the warmth on his face. Between their retreat to the Underworld and the grueling months it had taken for the dark ash to clear from their mountain, he had despaired he would never see the light of day again. Yet here he was, the brightness blinding his eyes. It was a long and seemingly endless task to restore Olympus to its former glory. Hades’ son had already seen two summers in the time it took to scour the blood from their defiled home, but true to his word, Zeus slaved tirelessly to rebuild what was holy and to ensure both Hades and Alkaios claimed a seat on the council. Hera still hated that fact, even after these past years, but Zeus had made the right decision. Both the gods and the earth had not known peace like this in decades, and as the world healed from Minotaur’s genocide, so did Olympus.

  Hermes turned down a side street and trudged his way lazily through the residences of the immortals. Many of them had perished in the Old One’s attack, but Hades and Alkaios personally delivered them to the great fields of Elysium. These dwellings stood mostly empty now, which is why he relished the peace felt wandering through them. With only the sun as his companion, Hermes reveled in these stolen moments of solitude. He was gloriously alone with his thoughts in these minutes where the endless tasks of restoring the mountain and the earth disappeared from his mind.

  A sudden freezing wind ripped him from his reveries, and Hermes’ face jerked down, lamenting the loss of heat on his cheeks. The icy blast whipped again, the cold air swarming his ankles, and he dropped his gaze to the clean stone on which he stood. Wisps of pure snow fluttered around his feet and melted against his sun-heated skin, the tiny crystals like needles as they assaulted his flesh.

  Alarm seized his spine. Panic froze his veins. His legs followed the fluttering ice before Hermes knew he was moving despite the pit gnawing at his gut. Its frozen beauty led him down the stone to a familiar door where the snowflakes seeped under its crack and out into the openness of the sun-soaked corridor. Hermes’ stomach knotted uncomfortably as he registered two things. The first was that this had been Hades’ old room when she was a mere immortal, and the second was that it did not snow atop this sacred mountain.

  Never in all their centuries had ice cursed Olympus’ perfection, yet there was no denying the snow that whispered from beyond the door, freezing Hermes’ skin.

  About the Author

  Nicole Scarano is an independent author, avid fiction reader, and film enthusiast. Her favorites genres are dystopian, apocalyptic, fantasy, thrillers, and action sprinkled with romance. She lives with her rescued pitbull, China (who was part of the inspiration for Kerberos in this series). Nicole's passion for writing consumes her free time, especially when it includes snuggling on her sofa with China. Her love of writing is so strong, she even tattooed a quote from one of her stories on her rib-cage.

  If you have enjoyed this book and feel comfortable leaving a review on Amazon, it would go a long way in helping Independent Authors like me. Thank you for taking the time to read Pitchfork!