The crack of wooden blades colliding rang across the clearing like thunder through the forest.
Zeus stumbled back, gritting his teeth, his sweaty grip tightening on his carved staff. I lunged again, faster this time, driving my blade toward his side. He spun, deflected, barely parried in time—but his footwork was sloppy. I twisted low, swept his leg from under him, and he hit the dirt with a grunt.
"Don't drop your heel, idiot!" Adrastea's voice sliced through the trees like a whip. "You're not dancing! Plant your stance or you'll end up dead!"
Zeus groaned from the ground. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered, pushing himself up and brushing leaves from his curls. "You yell the same thing every day."
"That's because you keep making the same mistake," she snapped, arms crossed over her chest. Her brow was furrowed but not unkind. "Again."
We reset. Zeus took his stance, and I mine. Our weapons—long rods carved from bark-hardened olivewood and wrapped in stitched-leather for grip—met in a flurry of strikes and blocks. He was stronger now, faster too. For all his laziness and bravado, he learned quickly.
Still, he was impulsive.
He lunged too far, overextending. I twisted my staff and knocked his blade from his grip.
He gasped as it clattered behind him.
I didn't strike. Just leveled the end of my staff at his chest. "Dead," I said simply.
He stared at the tip, scowled, and then sighed. "Dead," he repeated with a huff, throwing up his hands.
"Enough," Adrastea called. "Drop your weapons."
We obeyed, panting.
She walked toward us, calm and stern as always, eyes flicking between the two of us. "Hades. Good control, good patience. But don't telegraph your footwork. And never pity your opponent. Even if he's your little brother."
I gave a slow nod.
"Zeus," she continued, fixing him with a look. "You're improving. You finally blocked Hades's third faint. But your stance is a joke and your temper still rules you."
Zeus puffed up his chest. "Hey, I'm not angry."
She arched her brow. "You're always angry. But that's alright. Anger has its uses—so long as you learn to wield it like a spear, not swing it like a club."
She looked up at the sun and waved for us to follow. "Come. Time for your next lesson."
We left the clearing and made our way through the pine-shadowed woods until we reached a sunlit grove where four flat stone platforms jutted out from the mossy ground like the crowns of ancient pillars. The grove was encircled by elder trees, their roots twisting through the soil like the veins of the earth.
Amaltheia sat cross-legged on one of the stones, arms draped loosely over her knees. She nodded to us as we entered.
Adrastea gestured for us to sit. I climbed onto the stone and sat opposite Zeus, who flopped onto his back dramatically.
"This again?" he groaned. "We already know this part."
"Then show me," Adrastea said with a calm smile.
Zeus sat up, folding his legs as she began to speak.
"All living things possess Divinity," she said, voice steady as mountain wind. "It is the breath beneath breath, the river beneath skin, the spark in the marrow of all that lives. But those born of divine essence—us, the Divinus—we are different. Our spark can grow into a blaze. If we choose."
Divinus. That was the word they used for us. Not mortals, not Titans, not Primordials. Something… in-between. Or beyond. We were still learning what it meant.
"You each have the potential to bond with a domain," she continued. "A power that shapes your soul and defines your place in the cosmos. But to claim a domain is not simple. Most never do."
She turned to face us both. "There are two paths. One: you seek out a Primordial. You earn their favor. You become their pupil, and in time, they may grant you a portion of their domain."
"And the other?" I asked quietly.
"You forge your own path," she said. "You shape your life so completely that reality itself bends around you—and you claim your domain by right of existence. But that is harder. And the price can be steep."
"Yeah, yeah," Zeus muttered. "You say that every time. Why not just get to the cool part?"
"Repetition," I said flatly, "is the soil knowledge grows in. You want to wield a storm before you've planted a seed."
He shot me a look. "Ugh. You sound like her."
"I take that as a compliment."
Amaltheia snorted. "Enough talk. Close your eyes."
We obeyed.
"Breathe," she said softly. "Find your rhythm. Slow. Steady. Let your mind fall inward."
I inhaled. Exhaled.
"In your chest lies the pool of your divinity," she said. "It is yours and yours alone. Picture it."
I did.
A well of warmth—no, not warmth. Something… deeper. Older. Like stone beneath water. Like velvet night pressing on my lungs. It pulsed. My chest tightened. I kept breathing.
"You're drifting now," Amaltheia's voice echoed like a whisper through water. "Let it take you."
And then—
I was no longer sitting.
The grove was gone.
I stood in the center of my mindscape, my innate domain as Amaltheia had called it. The pool of divinity sat in the middle lined with these white stones. It was circular and the size of an olympic pool, and the energy in it pulsed as if it had a heartbeat.
And yet everything else was empty.
White.
Barren.
"So, this is it…" I whispered, spinning slowly in place. "This is where it all begins."
Amaltheia had said that starting out our innate domain was a blank canvas, and depending on what domains I selected it would cause my innate domain to change to reflect who I decide to become.
I stared down at the pool and saw my reflection wavering. Younger than I expected. Uncertain. Maybe even afraid.
"Alright," I murmured to myself. "Clear your mind. Focus on the god you want to be."
I knelt at the edge of the pool and closed my eyes. What do I want?
I had done quite a lot of thinking and had created a plan that would allow me to become who I wanted and to get exactly what domains that I want. The problem was if everything went correctly, what I needed to do was to contact the primordial that I wanted to inherit a dominian from. Originally Hades would contact Erebus and retrieve shadows as he wanted to keep mostly to himself and it had suited him, but not me, no I am after a whole different Primordial at the moment.
I knelt lower, pressing both palms to the cool stone beside the pool. The shadows seemed to lengthen, swirling in the corners of the space. I closed my eyes and began to speak—not loudly, not pleadingly, but with reverence.
"I seek counsel with the Incarnate of the Abyss," I said. "To Tartarus, the primordial that lies below us all."
My fingers tightened on the stone.
"Grant me the domain of the Underworld. The realm that exists above the Abyss and below the very earth we walk."
Silence.
Long.
Heavy.
Then…
A rumble.
Deep and low, like the growl of a mountain waking from slumber. The pool began to boil—quietly at first, then more violently, until waves of black energy sloshed over the stone.
Then came the laugh.
A booming, thunderous sound that rolled through the space like an earthquake through the soul.
"Bold," came the voice. Masculine, ancient, more a presence than a sound. "Very bold, little godling."
A pause.
Then more laughter. "To think that you would contact me out of all others, very well. I, Tartarus of the Abyss, shall grant you your wish."
The space warped. The air thickened. I looked up—and there, emerging from the darkness above was a hand that moved toward me.
It was larger than a house, seemingly made out of obsidian. These tattoos adorned the black stone glowing almost like lava. The index finger extended—and pressed gently to my forehead.
It didn't hurt.
Not at first.
Then came the burn.
A spear of molten fire stabbed straight into my skull—not physical, not real, but so vivid I screamed. The nail on the finger seemed to extend and sharpen as it pierced my skin.
I fell backward, gasping, as the hand withdrew as the laughter faded.
"You have my curiosity, boy," Tartarus said. "I can not wait to see what kind of god you become."
And then just as he had come he was gone.
I lay still, my chest heaving. Something inside me had changed. I could feel it—feel this new pulse of power thrumming beneath my ribs. I could feel the connection to my new domain.
I stood, slowly and noticed that the space around me had shifted. Polished black stones had replaced the old white stone. Around the pool was a marble pergola with eight corinthian pillars rising to over 40 feet. A stone floor now replaced the once white space.
I took one last look at the pool, then I exhaled, stepped backward, and let myself leave the innate domain.
When I opened my eyes, I was still sitting on the stone slab in the forest glade.
Beside me, Zeus was glowing.
Not metaphorically.
Literal arcs of electricity danced along his arms and shoulders, crawling like silver snakes down his skin. His eyes were wide, his grin even wider.
"I felt it!" he laughed, voice cracking with excitement. "I felt it, Hades! It was like thunder wrapped around my spine! Lightning listened to me!"
He raised a hand and a tiny spark jumped from his fingertip to a stone, leaving a charred mark.
"I'm the god of lightning!" he shouted, standing up and thrusting his hands to the sky. "I AM THE SKY! HAHAHA!"
I sighed.
Of course he was.
Adrastea watched from the edge of the grove, arms folded and an amused smirk pulling at her lips. Amaltheia looked peaceful, as if she'd expected all of this.
"I am going out for a walk." I said, but nobody was paying me any attention.
The sky was a soft golden hue, warm with the scent of wild thyme and summer grass. I walked through the meadows alone, the wind brushing against my hair like a playful spirit, tugging, pulling, teasing. The training fields had grown quiet—Zeus's maniacal laughter had finally died down—and I needed to be somewhere else. Somewhere peaceful.
Away from everything
My feet carried me without direction. The meadow rose and fell like gentle waves of green and gold, dotted with the occasional burst of color—poppies, lilacs, the soft white bloom of wildflowers. I wasn't looking for anything. Just breathing.
And then I found them.
Grapes.
Not just grapes.
They were the size of my fists, glistening in the sunlight, almost glowing with life. Heavy bunches draped over curling vines, thick with leaves, like something out of a dream. Their scent hit me like a sweet breeze—tart, ripe, and being the size of a grapefruit
I plucked one.
Bit into it.
Juice exploded across my tongue. Rich. Deep. Like it had been aged in the sun for just the right amount of time.
"By the abyss," I muttered, reaching for another. "These are ridiculous."
I sat beneath the vines and ate half a bunch, licking the juice from my fingers. The sun warmed my face, and the breeze hummed through the meadow.
"I could use a drink," I muttered to myself.
My gaze drifted to the grapes. Then back to my hands. Then to the grapes again.
Would it hurt?
I mean, really—would it?
I stood up, brushed the juice from my chin, and began harvesting like a madman.
☼
The cave we'd taken as home smelled of stone and salt and old magic, but today, it would smell of something new.
I set the grape clusters down on a flat stone slab and started crushing. I didn't have proper tools, but I had two good hands and an idea. I mixed in nectar stolen from Adrastea's satchel (she wouldn't notice… I hoped), a little honey from the forest hives, and something from one of Amaltheia's herbal pouches that smelled like clove and rosemary.
I poured it all into a large oak barrel we'd used for bathing once.
And then, without hesitation, I plunged my hand in.
The liquid swirled around my fingers—sticky, sweet, slightly foamy. I focused my divinity, letting it bleed from my veins into the mixture. Heat stirred. Power licked the inside of the barrel. The fluid shimmered, bubbles rising and bursting like laughter underwater.
It smelled incredible.
Then it began to glow.
The color shifted—no longer just red, but deep ruby edged with violet, like captured twilight.
When it settled, I drew my hand back and wiped it clean on my tunic. I grabbed a carved wooden cup and dipped it in, scooping out the first glass.
It looked alive.
"Here goes nothing."
I took a sip.
Velvet fire. Sun-drenched thunder. Sweet. Sharp. Complex. The world around me dimmed and focused at once, like I had just remembered who I was supposed to be.
I let out a long breath. "Gods, that's good."
"I'll say."
I nearly dropped the cup.
Adrastea stood at the entrance, barefoot and half-asleep, her hair a complete mess, one eye still half-closed.
"What's that?" she asked, yawning as she stepped inside, blinking at the barrel.
"It is wine." I said, caught completely off guard.
She raised a brow. "Huh, did you just make it? It really smells good."
I nodded too quickly. "Yeah, I just made it right now."
She shuffled forward, took the cup from my hand without asking, and took a long sip.
Then she froze.
A strange light bloomed across her face.
She laughed.
A real laugh—loud and warm and surprised. "That tastes amazing!" she said, shaking her head. "What did you put in that?"
Before I could answer, I felt it.
A jolt deep inside my chest. I could feel my divinity slightly shift beneath my skin. A soft violet glow burst from my chest, just beneath the skin. It wasn't painful—just hot. Alive.
I clutched my chest. "What… what just happened?"
Adrastea smiled, a little too pleased. "Congratulations, Lord of Wine."
"You've got to be kidding me," I muttered, staring at the cask like it had just insulted me. Dionysus didn't get the domain of wine until years after spreading it across half the world. I just brewed a single barrel and now I have it? How is that even possible? "How can I get a domain without, you know, building a following or making it known?"
Adrastea, lounging nearby, cracked open one eye. "Domains don't always wait for temples or worship. Sometimes, if you're the first to create something—truly divine—the universe takes notice."
My jaw dropped, I had not accounted for that. To think that I could receive domains just like that? "No. No, no, no. This wasn't the plan!"
She shrugged. "You made quite a delicious beverage. The Fates probably noticed and granted you the domain before you finished fermenting."
"This is a disaster."
"Could be worse," she said, flopping back with a yawn. "You could've ended up god of spoiled milk or aggressive bees."
I stared at the glowing wine and I really wanted to throw it all away and yet I filled another cup and downed it. I am going to make the best of this domain and then pass it to Dionysus when the time arrives.
After a moment, I sat down on a stone bench, still stunned. Adrastea plopped beside me, cradling the cup in both hands like it was her favorite blanket.
"Wine god, huh?" I muttered.
Adrastea raised her cup in a lazy toast. "To Hades. May your drunken followers someday dance naked in olive fields."
"Oh gods," I groaned.
But I laughed.
And the cave echoed with it.