WHEN THE TRUTH BECOMES A BURDEN

She was home.

How?

Impossible. She was in the Underworld and hadn't been home in months. Everything was dark, yet she knew perfectly well she was lying on the bed in her bedroom. So she got up.

The only sound was the breeze blowing through the windows. She peeked into the hallway, searching for any lights turned on, and noticed something downstairs.

She descended the stairs cautiously. In the middle of the table, a single candle was lit—but what struck her most was seeing her mother and younger brother sitting around the table.

Her mother sat with arms crossed, her expression stern, her brow furrowed. Her eyes looked at Erianthe with a mix of pain and disappointment. Not only that, but her little brother, on the other hand, stared at her with deep sadness, tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Why did you leave, Eri? Don't you love us anymore?" Zenos asked through sobs.

"No! I love you so much! I…"

"You abandoned us," came another voice, this one from behind her.

She turned around and saw her friends: Patroclus, Ilena, and Tadd.

"Guys! What are you doing here? I would never abandon you," Eri replied, desperate, but her friends only looked at her with anger and disappointment.

"Where were you when we needed you most?" Tadd said coldly.

Erianthe's heart sank at those words.

"Tadd, no, I…" She tried to talk, but only a whisper came out.

"I thought you were different, Eri," came her mother's voice. She turned and saw her standing right in front of her.

There was no time to respond.

The ground began to move under her feet. The world shattered around her like a mirror breaking into pieces.

Erianthe felt herself falling.

A scream escaped her throat as everything turned into a whirlwind of shadows.

And then, she woke up.

Her breathing was erratic. Her body trembled from the cold that filled the room.

She had felt the Underworld growing colder for days now.

"It must be winter on Earth," she thought.

She sat up in bed. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest, as if trying to break free.

The images of her mother, her brother, and her friends lingered vividly in her mind.

"It was just a dream," she told herself.

But it felt real. Far too real.

And with that feeling came a crushing sense of guilt.

She ran a hand down her face and got out of bed. She knew she wouldn't fall back asleep. So she went straight to the cafeterium; cooking would help clear her mind.

When she arrived, the room was empty.

She prepared the ingredients she needed and got to work.

Her hands moved on autopilot, and the only sound in the room was the soft clatter of the utensils she was using. But her mind was still trapped in the dream.

"Why did I dream about them? Are they okay?"

Her mother's words and the accusing stares of her friends weighed heavily on her chest.

Since arriving in the Underworld, her life has changed in ways she never could have imagined. And even though she had found something—someone—in this place, she couldn't forget that they were still out there.

"Are they in danger?"

She had no way of knowing.

What if she asked Hades? Would he let her visit them?

Part of her doubted he would.

She exhaled slowly and kept cooking, trying to calm the storm inside her—but the knot in her chest refused to loosen.

Elsewhere in the Underworld, the Lord of the Dead awoke, feeling… strange.

He had slept well. No nightmares, no waking in the middle of the night. None of that. In fact, he had dreamed of a certain orange-haired girl. And that, perhaps, was what truly felt strange—because it had been a long, long time since he had opened up to anyone.

He ran a hand down his face and sighed. He had said too much. Furthermore, he had spoken of his mother, his past, even his true name.

"I shouldn't have told her so much. What was I thinking?"

But deep down, he knew the answer. With that girl, opening up felt natural. It wasn't forced. In fact, after telling her all those things yesterday, he felt as though a weight had been lifted off his chest.

Still, it unsettled him. She was the daughter of his nemesis.

And he had laid bare pieces of himself that almost no one knew. Now, he was vulnerable to her.

Yet, he knew—she would never use that against him. She wasn't like him.

He rose from bed with a frustrated sigh and headed for her room. He needed to see her. Not only that, but he didn't know exactly why, but he needed to.

When he arrived, her room was empty. His brows furrowed.

"Where are you, brat?"

He searched through several rooms until it dawned on him—she was probably in the cafeterium, preparing breakfast.

He didn't take long to get there. And the moment he stepped through the door and saw her, his heart kicked in his chest with an intensity that bothered him.

Erianthe was focused on chopping several ingredients, but something felt off. She looked tense—distant. Hades frowned and approached her silently.

"Erianthe?"

No response.

He raised an eyebrow. Then, the god waved a hand in front of her face to get her attention. Nothing. The only option left was to reach out and touch her shoulder.

That, at least, got a reaction.

Eri hadn't expected anyone to touch her—she hadn't even noticed the god's presence. In that precise moment, startled, her hand jerked, and the knife she was holding slipped, cutting her.

"Ow!" she cried out, dropping the knife instantly.

Hades moved without thinking. Before she could pull her hand away, he was already holding it gently in his own. A thin line of blood trickled down her finger.

"What were you thinking?" he scolded, his tone sharp but laced with concern. "At this rate, you'll end up slicing your whole hand."

Without hesitation, he summoned his power. Blue flames flickered around her palm. As always, she felt warmth—but it wasn't until now that she noticed those healing flames were blue. And strangely, they didn't burn. On the contrary, they gave off a comforting heat.

"You know," Erianthe said softly. "I always thought Apollo was the only one who could heal."

"It's one of his specialties," Hades replied. "Every god has a gift. For him, it's healing and clairvoyance. But Zeus, Poseidon, Hera, Hestia, Demeter, and I… we have a bit more. More power, more domains—especially those of us who rule over entire realms."

"So, your powers can do everything?" Eri asked, clearly amazed.

"Not everything, sweetheart," Hades replied, pride edging his voice. "I'm not the Lord of the Cosmos like Mr. Thunderbolts. But let's just say I've got considerable power. In this case, I can heal certain wounds—especially when the one wounded is under my care."

"What do you mean by, especially if they're under your care?" she asked, puzzled.

"Well," he began, lifting his shoulders in a casual shrug. "When someone makes a pact with the Lord of the Dead, moi, a bond is formed. That bond makes it easier to utilize my power, especially for healing. That's why I can mend your wounds so easily."

Then he added with a sly look, "By the way, the knife is off-limits for you now."

He picked up another knife and began helping her slice the ingredients. Erianthe blinked, completely thrown off.

She had never truly stopped to consider how powerful Hades really was. Sure, her mother had told her stories, and she herself had seen him fight slavers, battle a gorgon with his bare hands, and use his powers to fend off monsters. But still… seeing the King of the Underworld, the Lord of the Dead, calmly slicing fruit in the cafeterium? It was surreal.

"You know how to cook?" she asked, curiosity and wonder lacing her voice.

Hades gave a faint smile as he worked the knife with ease.

"I learned when I was young," his voice dropped, softer now. "I used to help my mother in the kitchen."

That simple comment tugged at something deep in Erianthe's chest. There was something so… human in that image—Hades as a boy, helping his mother cook. She couldn't help but see him differently.

The two of them kept cooking in a companionable silence, occasionally stealing glances at each other. Erianthe, especially, watched him with growing fascination. There was something intimate about seeing someone so powerful do something so mundane.

Eventually, she began preparing one of Hades' favorite dishes: seasoned worms. As she laid them out carefully on the tray, the god's patience gave out. With a mischievous grin, he leaned in and started stealing from the tray before she was finished.

"Aidoneus!" Erianthe protested, gently pushing him away. "I'm not done yet!"

Hades stopped chewing.

"Say it again," he said, eyes locked intensely on her.

"Huh?"

"Repeat what you just said." He was getting closer with every word.

"That I'm not done yet?" Eri frowned, confused by his sudden change in tone.

"No, not that." His voice was low, almost pleading, "Say my name again."

"Aidoneus," she whispered, barely audible. Her eyes met the god's, understanding dawning in their depth. Then, without hesitation, he pulled her into a tight embrace.

"I like it when you say my name, brat," he murmured softly.

Erianthe never imagined Hades could hug someone like that—with so much tenderness. And she couldn't help but wonder how many times he had needed to hear someone call him by his true name.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Hades sneakily grabbed more worms from the tray.

"Hey! Don't take more; I haven't finished!" Erianthe scolded, breaking away from the hug.

The Lord of the Dead just laughed, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he chewed happily on one of his favorite delicacies.

"I can't help it, brat," he said between chuckles. "They're too good. Though I have to admit, I'm starting to prefer your cooking. The way you prepare them… they're to die for."

Erianthe burst into laughter, caught off guard by his enthusiasm.

"Want one?" Hades offered, holding a worm out to her.

Erianthe pulled back immediately, making a face.

"Not a chance!" she exclaimed, shaking her head.

Hades laughed even harder, his deep voice echoing through the cafeterium.

"And it doesn't gross you out to cook them?" he asked, raising a brow.

Eri shrugged with a small smile.

"I've gotten used to it. Besides…" she glanced at him sideways. "I add a bit of rosemary. It's my special touch. I'm glad you like it."

Hades arched a brow in surprise.

"So that's your secret ingredient," he muttered, his voice full of admiration and amusement.

Erianthe smiled proudly, pleased that he appreciated her seasoning. Once the worms were done, and since she was "banned" from using knives, she began kneading dough for pita bread instead. Her hands moved with purpose, pressing deep into the soft dough, while Hades watched her with growing interest.

But the god of the underworld couldn't stay still for long…

A mischievous idea crossed his mind.

With a swift motion, he grabbed a handful of flour and tossed it gently at Erianthe, covering her hair and part of her face. The girl froze for a second before slowly turning toward him, one brow raised.

"Did you actually do that?" she asked, though her smile betrayed any attempt at sounding stern.

Hades shrugged with mock innocence.

"What? Don't look at me like that! For the record, the flour suits you. Gives you a more rustic aesthetic."

Erianthe wasn't about to let that go.

She grabbed a handful of flour and hurled it straight at his chest.

"Well then, you clearly needed a makeover too, Lord of the Underworld!"

Their little battle continued for a few more minutes, laughter filling the cafeterium as clouds of flour swirled around them, covering them from head to toe.

When they finally stopped, both were breathless, cheeks flushed from laughter and the burst of energy. Erianthe was smiling—she liked this playful side of the god. He looked like a mischievous child with a hunger for fun, and she thought, "He missed out on childhood too early." After all, his father had stolen part of his youth.

Hades looked at her, his dark eyes glowing with a rare warmth.

"I don't remember the last time I had this much fun," he admitted quietly.

Erianthe looked at him with tenderness, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Me neither," she whispered, her eyes meeting his.

The nightmare from the night before faded into smoke, and all she could focus on was this—how lighthearted he could be. And for a moment, time in the underworld seemed to stand still.

They gazed at each other.

Hades wore a satisfied expression. His breathing was still a bit ragged from running around the kitchen and from making her bite the dust—or, more accurately, the flour—in that "little" battle. Erianthe, who was slightly more covered in flour, had rosy cheeks from dodging the god's playful attacks. Both tried to catch their breath again, but they ended up laughing at the ridiculous mess they'd made.

Hades moved first, brushing off his chiton with an exaggerated gesture.

"Brat, look what you've done," he joked, though the smile on his face betrayed any trace of irritation.

Erianthe giggled and stepped closer to help dust the flour from his robe.

"You started it," she replied with a mischievous smile.

Their closeness became palpable again. Their hands brushed unintentionally, and for a moment, the room seemed to shrink, leaving only the two of them in its center. They couldn't deny it—there was something pulling them together, something neither of them could resist.

Hades looked at Erianthe, his dark eyes studying her with a feeling he couldn't quite put into words.

"You know…" he began, his voice low. "It's been a very long time since I cooked with anyone. Especially a mortal."

Erianthe blinked in surprise at his confession.

"I guess that means I should feel special, then," she whispered, smiling softly.

Hades nodded, taking one of her hands gently into his own.

"You are."

The honesty in his voice left her speechless. He moved even closer.

"How about we do this more often?"

"What? Cook together?" Eri teased.

Hades leaned in, his warm breath brushing her cheek.

"Spend time together," he murmured, then pressed a kiss to her hand, still cradled in his.

Erianthe's cheeks turned crimson at the gentle warmth of his lips on her skin. Her heart raced wildly in her chest.

Neither of them could tear their eyes away from each other. Lately, there was something pulling them together, urging them to share these moments. Deep down, Erianthe knew she was dying to kiss him—just like that time in her room when they almost did.

Still, she didn't dare. She was afraid to be the one to cross that line, to misread the signs and lose these precious moments with him. She preferred things just the way they were, even if she couldn't stop staring at his lips.

"ERI!"

And just like that, the magic of the moment shattered with the arrival of two all-too-familiar troublemakers and a gorgon who walked in with a smug grin, catching the Lord of the Dead holding the girl's hand.

"Well, well… Are we interrupting something?" Euryale asked with a teasing smile.

The two sprang apart as if they hadn't bathed in weeks. Erianthe backed away from Hades so quickly she nearly tripped over one of the chairs in the cafeterium, her face completely flushed.

Hades wasn't faring much better.

His flames flickered and rose slightly higher than usual—a sure sign of his inner turmoil.

"What in the Underworld are you doing here?!" he growled, frowning deeply, his dark eyes flashing with irritation.

Panic and Pain glanced at each other nervously before recovering quickly.

"Ahem… well, we were just coming to check on breakfast," said Panic, waving his hands.

"Yes, yes! Breakfast!" added Pain, nodding vigorously.

Euryale crossed her arms and smiled playfully.

"Seems like you two were having a good time," she said in a sing-song voice, dragging a finger along the counter. "Who started the flour war? Was it you, Eri?"

Erianthe let out a choked noise of indignation.

"What? Me? It was Hades! Besides, we weren't doing anything!" she exclaimed, her face still burning with embarrassment.

"Enough! If you came for breakfast, it's not ready yet. Don't be a nuisance—and vanish before I fry you both," the god snapped, his irritation flaring so strongly that his flames began to glow orange.

The imps obediently shuffled over to their usual table, and Euryale followed them—though not before giving Erianthe one last cheeky grin.

The daughter of Hercules got back to work finishing the breakfast—which thankfully didn't take much more time—while Hades, with a snap of his fingers, made the floury chaos vanish instantly.

Just then, Giles appeared, and the few other Underworld subordinates began filtering into the cafeterium, drawn by the promise of their first meal of the day. Once the food was ready, Erianthe brought it to the table, where everyone—Hades included—was already waiting.

"This looks amazing!" Euryale exclaimed as she saw the spread.

"Eri's a great cook," said Pain, already digging in.

Euryale took a bite of her food and let out a satisfied sound.

"This is delicious! I haven't eaten this well in ages!" the gorgon declared.

Erianthe smiled proudly—she always put effort into preparing a good meal. She had just started eating when the gorgon suddenly spoke up:

"So you're the daughter of Hercules," Euryale said, her voice curious.

At once, the daughter of Greece's most famous hero stopped eating and looked at her. She wasn't entirely sure what kind of expression the gorgon was giving her. Hades, on the other hand, was watching the exchange closely. Something about Euríale's sudden interest in her father didn't sit right with him. He decided to stay quiet and observe—ready to step in if she tried anything.

"Yes, I am," Erianthe replied. There was no use in lying, not when she had practically shouted it while escaping from Echidna.

"No way! I thought Hercules' entire family was dead! And it turns out, the mortal trying to sneak into the monsters' lair is none other than his daughter. And you're fantasticwith a bow! I didn't think you'd have such sharp aim!" Euryale replied, genuinely excited.

"Uh…?" Erianthe was speechless. The rest of the table seemed just as caught off guard by the gorgon's enthusiasm.

"Who taught you? Hercules? Or his trainer, Phil?"

Euryale looked like a child meeting her favorite hero, and Erianthe couldn't help but smile.

"It started with Phil. He taught me how to 'fight', made me learn the rules of being a hero, and he was the first to notice I had talent with the bow. My father, though… he didn't like it. He didn't want his daughter fighting, let alone getting hurt," she said, her voice tinged with nostalgia.

"Your father forbade you from training?" the gorgon asked, surprised.

"Pretty much, yeah. I adore my dad—I love him dearly—but he treated me like I was some fragile vase that might shatter at any moment. His plan was to marry me off to someone who could protect me and give me a comfortable life."

"And your mother? Was she okay with that?" asked Hades, irritated. His former subordinate would never have supported such nonsense. He already knew that the idiot of a nephew had once tried to arrange a marriage between Eri and the prince of Thebes, and that infuriated him. Yet, he was secretly relieved it had never come to pass. The thought of Erianthe being promised to someone else… bothered him more than he cared to admit.

"Mom never liked that idea," Erianthe answered proudly. "She always told my dad that women aren't trophies to be handed out, and that everyone should have the freedom to find their happiness."

That made Hades smile. That's so Meg—rebellious, untamed. In many ways, Erianthe reminded him of her. However, unlike his former subordinate, his daughter had a light about her that could brighten any room, especially when she smiled,

"Her smile shines brighter than the sun Apollo drags across the sky each day," the god of the dead thought to himself.

"I like your mother," said the gorgon with a grin. "So, did Phil teach you everything you know about archery?"

Erianthe shook her head gently.

"He taught me many things, but when it comes to archery, my true mentor was Dione—the Queen of Thebes," she replied with a smile tinged with nostalgia.

Silence fell over the table. Everyone stared at her in stunned disbelief.

"The queen?!" they all exclaimed at once.

"Yes," Erianthe said calmly, "Dione was a descendant of the Amazons. She always said I had a gift… that I could become a great archer."

"I would've loved to meet her! An Amazon!" Euryale cried, visibly excited.

Erianthe gave a faint smile, but this one lacked joy. It was empty, hollow. The memory of Dione still hurt—like a wound that refused to heal.

"Unfortunately, she's no longer with us," she murmured, trying to hold back her tears. "She died many years ago."

"Really? What happened to her?" Panic asked cautiously.

"She was murdered," Erianthe answered coldly, her voice sharp and firm as a blade.

Her gaze darkened at the memory, a flash of pain and buried rage flickering in her eyes—something that didn't go unnoticed by Hades.

What else is she hiding? How much has she endured all these years? Why won't she share it with me?

The King of the Underworld watched her in silence, his expression unreadable.

"Eri, I… I'm sorry," Euryale said softly, her tone sincere.

"Don't worry, Euryale." Erianthe replied with a bitter smile. "Dione was a strong woman. But even she couldn't stand against Licario and his men. After all, his personal guard is made up of assassins."

At that revelation, everyone around the table paled.

Assassins? What kind of king surrounds himself with murderers?

The question hung in the air, unspoken. But Hades didn't flinch. He already knew the story—the bastard who had burned her home to the ground, slaughtered her grandparents, and taken Lysander from her.

Erianthe continued, her voice colder now, her eyes hardened with hate.

"King Licario commands the worst scum imaginable," Erianthe said firmly, though her eyes betrayed the shadows of her past. "Pyros, the pyromaniac, is a sadist who takes pleasure in torturing and killing his victims by setting them ablaze. I know it. I was fortunate enough to survive one of his incursions."

A shiver ran down her spine as the memory resurfaced. For a brief moment, her gaze drifted into the void, but she forced herself to go on.

"Toxicón, the silent assassin. A master of poisons. He was the one who killed the queen with cyanide. And Hybris, a girl of my age," she paused, swallowing down the bitterness rising in her throat. "She earned her place in the personal guard when, at just eight years old, she beheaded our teacher without hesitation."

Her voice hardened even further as she spoke the next name:

"Caestus, the 'Iron Fist', is the master of the underworld. He controls the prostitution, underground fighting clubs, and the black market in Thebes."

The silence that followed weighed heavy over the table. But in Erianthe's eyes, there was nothing but tightly contained rage. The others stared at her, stunned, but she barely blinked before continuing.

"But you know, the worst of them all is Catharsis, the puppeteer. He pulls the strings from the shadows. No one knows his true face, but those who've been in his presence are never the same again."

"Now I understand why the Children of the Revolution exist," Euríale murmured, breaking the silence. "Without them…"

"Thebes would've fallen long ago," Erianthe finished resolutely.

Hades narrowed his eyes, studying every detail of her expression. Her voice held fury, yes, but also a fierce determination—like the weight of that fight rested squarely on her shoulders.

"The Children of the Revolution." Euryale echoed. "Are you… part of them?"

Erianthe met her gaze without flinching.

"Yes, I am. The Children of the Revolution are the only ones who dared to stand up to Licario," she declared, her voice unwavering.

Euryale leaned on her elbow, eyeing her with growing interest.

"I'd love to meet them in person, maybe even join them," she said with an eager smile.

Erianthe looked at her with surprise before offering a curious smile.

"Really? Why? I never thought a gorgon would want to get involved in human affairs."

"My sister, Medusa, always said not all humans are bad," Euryale replied, her tone softer now. "Besides, she was a very close friend of your father, Hercules."

Erianthe blinked, visibly surprised.

"Seriously? I had no idea."

"Yes," the gorgon nodded. "They met back when your father was attending Prometheus Academy."

"Pff… I remember that," Hades cut in with an ironic smile, crossing his arms. "I'll never forget the disappointment I felt. When Medusa saved that fool of a nephew from being turned to stone forever."

Erianthe raised an eyebrow.

"Wait! Seriously? You were about to let my dad get petrified?"

Hades smirked mischievously.

"Let's just say… unfortunately, my plan didn't go as expected," he said with a casual air, then paused, his expression softening. "Although, if he had stayed petrified, you would've never been born."

The comment caught Erianthe off guard. A faint flush crept up her cheeks, but before she could say anything, Euryale burst out laughing.

"Well, well! That almost sounded like a compliment, Lord of the Underworld!"

Hades rolled his eyes and huffed, turning his attention back to his food. Erianthe, however, still felt the weight of his words lingering in her chest. There was something sincere in them—more than Hades likely intended to show.

"Eri, I'm curious, have you ever seen Phoenix?" Euryale asked with interest.

"Who's Phoenix?" Pain interrupted, frowning.

"Well…" Erianthe started to answer, but the gorgon cut her off abruptly.

"What? You've never heard of him?" Euryale exclaimed, staring at everyone in disbelief.

The others exchanged puzzled looks and shook their heads.

"He's the leader of the revolution. The founder of the Children of the Revolution," she explained with excitement. "He's the one who defied King Licario by shooting an arrow at him and declaring war. Or at least… that's what the stories say."

"You sound like a huge fan of this Phoenix guy," Pain commented, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course I am!" Euryale said enthusiastically. "Since that day, Phoenix has led the revolution with courage. He's a symbol of hope for so many."

Erianthe offered a faint smile at the gorgon's words but remained silent.

"So… you really want to join the revolution, Euryale?" Erianthe asked, watching her with curiosity.

"Yes, but also, I would like to tell Phoenix something."

"Something? What is it?" Erianthe leaned in slightly.

The gorgon's expression turned more serious.

"I know who made a pact with Echidna."

Silence fell over the table like a heavy weight. Everyone held their breath. A chill ran down Erianthe's spine before she found the courage to speak.

"Euríale, please tell me it wasn't someone from Thebes."

The gorgon averted her gaze uncomfortably, then let out a sigh.

"Well… I think it was," she admitted at last. "It was a woman, stunningly beautiful, with long black hair. She introduced herself to us as the High Priestess of Thebes."

Erianthe felt the blood drain from her face.

"What… what did you say?" she whispered, completely pale.

Hades clenched his fists. His expression darkened, and the flames above his head flickered violently. That woman. That damned woman who had stolen the favor of the monsters. What had she offered them in return?

Erianthe swallowed hard. Her thoughts raced, going through every possibility, every disaster that alliance could unleash.

"Euryale, tell me what she said," her voice trembled, urgency lacing her words.

"Eri, I…" the gorgon hesitated, biting her lip, unsure if she should go on.

"Please," Erianthe pleaded, her voice cracking.

Hades furrowed his brow. He didn't like what he was seeing. The desperation in her eyes, the fear freezing her in place—something was terribly wrong. And he had a sinking feeling that it was about to be confirmed.

"She promised that if the monsters supported her cause, she would hand Thebes to them on a silver platter."

Erianthe felt her stomach twist into a knot. Her mind processed the words painfully slowly, as if refusing to accept what she was hearing.

"So that means…" she murmured, barely audible. "They're going to let the monsters attack Thebes… to devour the people."

The weight of that truth hit the table like a death sentence. Suddenly, Erianthe stood up, her eyes vacant, her gaze far away.

"Erianthe?" the imps called cautiously.

The girl didn't respond. Her gaze was distant, her body tense, and her lips trembled as she fought to hold back tears.

"Eri?" This time it was Hades who spoke, his voice firmer, closer. But it was no use. Erianthe was lost in her thoughts.

The silence in the room became unbearable. A suffocating pressure hung in the air, as if it had thickened around them. Erianthe felt a knot in her throat, her breathing was erratic, and her hands trembled on the table. Her mind was stuck in a loop of thoughts.

"Thebes… My friends… My family…"

Hades watched her silently. He saw her unraveling, trapped in her panic, and the feeling was disturbingly familiar. Without thinking too much, he reached out and took her hand, squeezing it firmly but with a gentle touch.

Erianthe flinched at the contact, as if waking from a nightmare. She blinked several times, slowly coming back to herself, but when she finally looked up at the god of the underworld, Hades didn't like what he saw in her eyes.

It was fear.

Fear and uncertainty.

Hades felt a heavy weight in his chest. He wanted to say something, to stop her from falling further into that spiral of anguish. But just as he made the slightest move, Erianthe quickly pulled her hand away.

"Oh gods, it's late." Her voice sounded forced, as if she were pretending everything was fine. "Sorry, guys, I really have to get started, or I'll run out of time."

And without looking at anyone, without giving anyone the chance to stop her, she walked out of the dining hall without looking back.

Hades stared at the door through which Erianthe had vanished, unmoving, his brow furrowed. He didn't know what to do. Should he go after her, or give her space?

He knew full well the news had affected her, but he didn't know how much. And that troubled him. His flames flickered faintly as he drummed his fingers on the table, lost in thought.

The imps, noticing the tension, exchanged looks and decided to step in.

"Come on, Euryale! It's time for your orientation," said Panic with forced enthusiasm.

"Orient-what?" asked the gorgon, raising an eyebrow.

"Orientation," clarified Pain with an air of importance. "Every new employee needs training about the underworld."

"We're a serious business," added Panic proudly, puffing out his chest.

Euryale stared at them in disbelief but didn't object. With a shrug, she picked up her breakfast and followed them.

The three left the dining hall, leaving Hades alone, lost in his thoughts, absentmindedly stirring the food on his plate. The aroma of the breakfast Erianthe had prepared lingered in the air, but for the first time in ages, the food tasted like nothing to him.

Throughout the day, Erianthe buried herself in work, cleaning and sculpting the columns of the throne room with near-obsessive focus. She avoided Hades, the imps, and Euryale, making sure to stay busy so she wouldn't have to face her emotions.

But her mind kept drifting.

"What should I do? How can I contact Thebes to warn them?"

Each tool strike against the stone, each careful carve into the sculpture, served only to mask her rising desperation. For the first time since arriving in the Underworld, she skipped her lessons in the library with Hades. She didn't show up to prepare dinner, either.

When the time came and her absence became obvious, the god of the underworld felt a rising fury bubbling inside him.

Annoyance. Frustration.

So, now she was avoiding him?

The flame above his head burned brighter, reflecting his growing agitation. His fingers drummed impatiently on the armrest of his throne. Erianthe could dodge him all she wanted, but eventually, they would talk.

He was so caught up in his anger that he didn't notice the shouts breaking the palace's silence at first.

"Boss! It's Erianthe!" shouted the imps in unison as they burst into the throne room.

Hades scowled, his irritation quickly turning into alarm.

"We found her passed out in one of the palace corridors during the orientation tour!" exclaimed Euryale, her voice laced with worry.

The god didn't wait to hear more. Instantly, he vanished in a burst of blue flames, leaving behind only a sweltering heat.

It didn't matter how upset he had been. Erianthe was everything to him.

And he had to find her.

Hello everyone!

Thank you for your patience. It's been impossible for me to update sooner, and moreover, I've been lacking inspiration and hit a bit of a creative block. But I finally managed to get the chapter done.

Little by little, I'll start diving deeper into the Thebes conflict and the Hades/Erianthe relationship, but well, patience. Hopefully, I'll be able to translate the next chapter sooner and not take almost two months to update again.

You know, if you like the story, leave a follow, a like, or review! I hope you like the chapter. And remember, English is not my mother tongue; if you see any mistakes, don't hesitate to tell me.