Chapter Thirteen

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Chapter Thirteen

The very first time I had ever laid my eyes on Hades was during a UP meeting in Scotland.

It was cold that day. The snow whipped through the air in a frenzy, the sky was dark with storm clouds. The pines in the forest even trembled, the wind knocking clumps of snow to the ground. In the distance, snow capped hills and mountains peered over the horizon. The air was crisp and fresh with the scent of snow, of storm, pine, and soil.

The meeting was being held in an ancient castle. It was a massive structure with several wings and robust towers that rose high into the sky. Dark gray stones piled high with arched windows and doorways, and a great fortress wall that surrounded the place.

It had been abandoned centuries ago and made the perfect place for a meeting of supernatural entities. In the tallest tower, a grand wood table intricately carved by hand was placed in the center of the room with enough seats for nearly a hundred men. Foreign flags from lands humans had never heard of hung on the walls as decoration, a fireplace the size of an entire room itself burned heavily on one side where gods gathered for warmth as they dressed in heavy furs.

It was my first UP meeting as the head of my realm. After years of wars with foreign lands, civil wars that ravaged my homeland, betrayals left and right, struggle after struggle, I'd finally managed to stake my claim. I'd officially been crowned the King of Hell. I was the first non-god to own a realm, the first to fight wars on my own land against no one army, and win control. I had earned my place in this room, earned the right to stand amongst the gods, who eyed me suspiciously.

Let them gawk, I thought, scanning the room. Most of these gods had only moved into a land and claimed it without war, without bloodshed, without labor. I had fought for what I had. I had worked hard for it all. I, a mere archangel, in the presence of gods.

But it was also the first time I'd been to the mortal realm. There was a thickness to the air here that I was unaccustomed to. However, there was a beauty here unlike any other. I had thought my own realm was filled with wonders and beauty unmatched, yet I couldn't pull myself away from that fragile diamond glass window. I had the perfect unmarred beauty of the Scottish Highlands in my sight and I would forever remember it. The green dusted in pure snow white, the untouched wild lands of the heathen mortals who called it home.

At that time, Scotland was raw and beautiful. There were only a few clans that fought and made treaties, who danced and sang together, who killed invaders, who worshipped the trees and the earth, who sang to some of the gods that were actually in the room with me at that moment.

It was... incredible.

Though, the air was too cold beside the window, so I withdrew and once more scanned the room, watching self-important gods strut around as if they owned this realm as their own. Some even wore crowns of silver and gold, sparkling and glittering with gems not found in any other realm. Peacocking, really, and their eyes would drift to me in disapproval, where I regarded them with cold disinterest.

I knew well the tales of the gods. Fear was a lure to them, long glares were challenges.

And I had just finished the final battle before Hell became mine. I had no interest in starting wars with the likes of these barbarians, so I simply took their disdain in stride as I drew to the seat that was mine, my name engraved on the back of the seat. I pulled it out and sat down, gathering my heavy black furs close to shield against the cold. I took another skim about the room, noting each god and their unique styles, the different languages spoken around me, the different mannerisms. From the politeness of the Japanese envoy to the gruff challenge of the Norse. Each had their own individual personalities, yet they all shared similar traits; such being that their god complexes were rightfully named.

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