As the petite figure of Hestia squirms in her bed, sweat dripping from her forehead, her faced scrunched up in absolute terror, residing beside her was the spirit of hope. The little spirit flutters nervously in Pandora's Box. As if sensing something wrong with her owner, it desperately tries to escape its confinement within the vase, ramming futilely against the magical barrier which surrounded said jar. However, each attempt only served to discourage the spirit more, as the magical confinement emitted a low hum, seemingly trying to taunt the spirt.
However, the case suddenly began to vibrate, at first slowly and rhythmically. But as time went by, the shaking became more erratic, more violent, until the vase exploded from the inside out. Free at the last, the spirt jumped for joy as it raced out through the vase, somersaulting in the air. However, it's celebration was short lived as the magical confinements of the vase let out one final burst of energy. As the energy sphere sped outwards at inconceivable speeds, reducing anything surrounding it to ashes. Yet, the spirt of hope seemed to be unfazed by it.
Curious, it began surveying the room, what's left of it anyways. As it's eyes peered through the dust and ash still lingering in the air, it spotted another figure who too was untouched by the explosion. Hestia. As if finally realising it's initial objective, it raced towards the sleeping goddess. However, as it approached her, an invisible barrier seemed to be erected from thin air. Mystical runes dotted the barrier's surface. These runes were so old and ancient that even the spirit has never encountered it before. Yet, it seemed to be brimming with power. Squinting its eyes it tried its best to peer through the gold tinted barrier. It's eyes widened to the size of saucer plates as it noticed that the once elegant, pulchritudinous goddess, now seemed to be a husk of her former self. Pale white face, skeletal arms and ripped clothes were just some of the horrifying transformation she had underwent.
Suddenly, the spirit felt it's body evaporating. Slowly but surely, death is reaching its icy, cold hands towards it. Unable to retaliate against death's grip on her life, she could only hover aimlessly about the barrier until her time came to pass. However, as her eyes lingered to a heart shaped rune on the barrier, her eyes widened as realisation finally dawned on her. The apocalyptic prophecy, so old that it was foretold even before her, had finally come to pass. However, unlike previous prophecies, this is not a battle they can win with sword and shields. No... not even a thermonuclear weapon can save them. For this a the prophecy of a lost goddess who has yet to find her hearth. Mustering up its final energy, it's let out a burst of pure white energy which coalesced into a white orb. Pulsating with energy, the orb received its final orders from its mistress as she faded into the void. The orb then froze and for a brief moment, glowed brightly, as if attempting a salute before speeding of into the horizon.
The now ghostly body of the spirit of hope let out a small smile as she whispered to the orb, "Bring her home". As she let out her final breath, the wind sped up around her. As if mourning her death, ghostly sounds can be heard emitting from the wind as it brought the sparkles of energy up towards the starry sky. As the sparkles began to dissipated, the bright dots in the night sky seemed to fade along with it. For centuries, humanity have gazed towards to stars as they uttered their wishes. It inspired hope in them. It brought the worries to rest. It gave them courage and propelled them forward.
But now, as both hearth and hope fade from Earth, humanity no longer have a sanctuary. They no longer find solace with their family. They no longer hope for a better future. Without hope, humanity's primal instincts finally begin to resurface. And unrestrained, they do so with a vengeance. Not even the gods have to power to stop this carnage, for it is not a physical entity they can so easily extinguish. No... it's an emotional one. And emotions are much more tricky. One wrong step, and they blow up in your face, condemning you to eons of torture, tearing apart your soul piece by piece. Truly, emotions are the hardest beasts to tame, especially if the gods no longer have the goddess most attuned to it.
