Spring in Hades ✔

Prologue

Hellas. The Golden Age of Man is in decline.

A vast once-prosperous land steeped in spiritual rituals and mysteries. The peace and harmony that were enjoyed by all are now non-existent. Strife and impiety became the way of life. Mortals lived their daily lives to appease their gods, pawns in their gods' game of power.

An ancient prophecy made true. All living beings above and below the earth were thrown into chaos in a decade-long war. The earth was heavily soaked with the ichor of the Deathless. Kronos, the Titan King, led his army of Titan warriors into a brutal war against his offspring. The Olympians, led by three sons of Kronos – Zeus, the Saviour; Hades, the heir; and Poseidon; fought ruthlessly and relentlessly against their forefathers, with the aid of their kin, the Hekatonkheires, the Cyclopes and the Titan Traitors.

The Fates smiled upon the Olympians and their allies. Ananke blessed the successors with inevitable victory. As the Titans were cast into Tartarus, the Olympians mapped out their future scheme for the ruling of the cosmos.

* * *

Secluded in the Dikti Mountains on the island of Crete, three pairs of hands are busy spinning and weaving white and golden threads alike. The Diktaion Antron echoed with the whirring sound of the spinning wheel of life.

The Maiden in pink chiton spun a golden thread of life onto her spindle. A bright smile carved on her face as she pulled the thread. Excitement gripped her chest. "Sisters!" Clotho cried in delight.

A slender hand reached out for the golden thread. The Mother in crimson chiton gasped and she too smiled. "Oh, she is beautiful. Yes, yes, this is perfect!" agreed Lachesis, sharing her sister's sentiment. She drew out another golden thread from their depository of countless fibres, one that is worn out but the golden glow still glorious, and starts to twist and knot it together with the former golden thread tightly.

"Oh Lachesis, Atropos, can you imagine?" asked Clotho gleefully.

The Crone in black peplos sat in her chair stoically, but her lips curled up into a small smile. "Yes. So shall it be, sisters. I believe this one will last through the ages."

* * *

In the middle of the verdant meadows of Enna, on the island of Sikelia, a lone figure stood by the cliffs. Standing firm, he took in every detail of the majestic view. Battle-weary, in heavy ichor-stained armour, he heaved a sigh of relief. Helm in one hand, a damaged doru in the other; he has decided. He is the eldest son of Kronos, ascension to the throne is his birthright; he is ready.

Mount Othrys, Mount Olympus; what difference does it make. He has found the perfect place for him to build a new home-base for the victors. He knew in his heart that this place held an importance to him. When I am king... he thought and smiled. A gentle breeze blew, carrying the sweet scent of violets. His long raven waves brushed against his luminous cheeks.

The sky turned into liquid gold. He was about to turn away when he saw it in the heavens; lying in between the Lion in the west and the Scales to the east – the Maiden. Little did he know, the Fates have started to weave his golden thread of life with another; a golden thread that is all yellow with happiness, joy and vitality. 

A golden thread that promised spring in Hades.