Meanwhile Hades was going through a mess in his head and he couldn’t stay here and do this.

Not after Athena spoke. Not after the cracks widened again. Not after he felt the pressure inside him surge one more time, like something clawing at the inside of his ribs.

He looked at Zeus once. Just once. No long talk. No speech. Just that look.

Zeus met it. He understood.

"Go," Zeus said.

Hades nodded. Turned. Walked.

No portal. No grand movement. He stepped forward—and the world shifted around him. The white of Heaven faded. The broken sky stretched. Darkness rose. Cold settled.

By the time his next step landed, he was home.

The Underworld didn’t greet him. It reacted.

The ground trembled once, deep and low. The air grew heavy. Not because he returned. Because of what he brought back with him. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦

Hades exhaled slowly. "Yeah," he muttered. "I feel it too."

The realm wasn’t empty anymore. It hadn’t been since the souls returned. But now it was crowded. Not physically. Existentially. The space itself felt tight. Too full. Too many presences packed into one layer of existence. Too many lives that hadn’t been meant to sit this close together. Too many endings without rest.

Hades walked forward. Each step left a faint ripple in the ground. Not visible. But real. The Underworld responded to him differently now. Like it didn’t know how to hold him. Or what he had become.

He moved deeper. Past the outer plains. Past the broken fields where lost souls once wandered freely. Now they didn’t wander. They gathered. Clusters of light. Masses of dim shapes. Echoes. Fragments. Watching. Waiting.

They felt him. Of course they did. But now they reacted.

The closer he got, the louder it became. Not sound. Never sound. Pressure. Weight. Voices that weren’t meant to be heard all at once.

Hades slowed. "Alright," he said under his breath. "Calm down."

They didn’t. If anything, it got worse.

He reached the center. His throne. Still standing. Still untouched. Black stone rising from the ground like it had always been there. Like it always would be.

He stared at it. Didn’t sit. Not yet. He stepped past it, turned, and leaned both hands against the edge. His head lowered.

"Just breathe," he muttered.

That was a mistake.

The moment he tried—they came. Not as one. Not as noise. As individuals. Clear. Sharp. Too real.

A child’s voice hit him first. Soft. Confused.

"Where’s my mother?"

Hades froze. His fingers tightened against the stone.

"Not now," he whispered.

Another voice cut through. Rough. Worn. A soldier.

"I died on the field. I remember the blade. Why am I still here?"

Another. A woman. Crying.

"I can’t see. I can’t feel my hands. What is this place?"

More. More. More. They layered over each other. Not blending. Clashing. Each one demanding attention. Each one real.

Hades’s breath hitched. "Stop."

They didn’t. A hundred voices. A thousand. Ten thousand. All speaking. All feeling. All existing at once inside him.

He pushed himself upright. Took a step back from the throne. His hands moved to his head.

"I said stop."

A whisper slipped through the noise. Soft. So soft he almost missed it.

"Hades..."

Everything in him stilled. Not the voices. Not the pressure. Him.

"No," he said immediately. Too fast. Too sharp.

The whisper came again. Closer.

"You can hear me..."

Hades’s grip tightened. "Not you," he muttered. "Not like this."

The voice didn’t push. Didn’t beg. Just stayed.

"You’re hurting."

That broke something.

Hades clenched his teeth. "I said stop!"

The Underworld shook. The ground cracked in thin lines around him. The souls outside the throne space flickered, some dimming, some flaring too bright.

Inside him—the voices surged. Not louder. Sharper. A child screamed. A man laughed. A woman sobbed. A thousand deaths replayed at once.

Hades dropped to one knee. His hand slammed into the ground.

"Get out of my head!"

They couldn’t. That was the problem. They weren’t in his head. They were him now.

His chest tightened. Not pain. Compression. Like something inside him was expanding too fast and had nowhere left to go.

His eyes flickered. For a second—they weren’t his. Different colors. Different shapes. Different lives trying to look through one set of eyes.

He squeezed them shut. "I can handle this."

The whisper came again. "You don’t have to do this alone."

Hades’s head snapped up. "Don’t."

Silence. For one breath.

Then the voices hit harder. A warrior’s shout. A child crying. A mother screaming for her lost son. A king cursing his enemies. A thousand prayers. A thousand regrets. All at once.

Hades roared. The sound tore through the Underworld like a blade. The ground split. Shadows twisted. Souls outside scattered, flickering wildly.

He pushed himself up. Staggered. His body didn’t feel right. Too heavy. Too full. Too many directions at once.

He grabbed the side of his head with one hand. "Focus," he muttered. "Focus."

His breathing slowed. Not naturally. Forced. He had done this before. Controlled the dead. Guided them. Held them. This wasn’t different. Just bigger.

He planted his feet. Straightened. Pulled everything inward.

The voices resisted. Of course they did. They weren’t meant to be held like this. They weren’t meant to be one.

Hades gritted his teeth. "You’re not in charge," he growled.

Something inside him pushed back. Not the souls. Something deeper. Something darker. The weight of death itself shifting under the strain.

For a second—just one—he felt it. The edge. The point where he could lose control. Where the voices wouldn’t just speak. They would take. His thoughts. His will. Him.

Hades inhaled sharply. "No."

The word came out heavy. Grounded. His.

The pressure buckled. Just a little. Enough. He forced the voices down. Not gone. Never gone. Just contained. Barely.

His breathing steadied. Slow. Controlled. His hands dropped from his head. His eyes opened. Dark. But his.

For now.

"Okay," he muttered. "That’s... manageable."

A lie. But one he could work with.

He turned. Looked at the throne again. Then walked to it. This time—he sat.

The moment he did—the Underworld settled. Not fully. But enough. The cracks in the ground stopped spreading. The shadows pulled back. The distant souls quieted, just a fraction.

Hades leaned back. Closed his eyes.

"We’ll figure it out," he said quietly.

The whisper came again. Closer than before.

"I know you will."

His eyes snapped open. For a second—they weren’t dark. They weren’t calm. They weren’t fully his. They shifted. Flickered. A thousand lights behind them. A thousand lives trying to see.

Then it passed. Just like that. Gone.

Hades sat still. Breathing. Holding. Barely.

"Yeah," he said under his breath. "That’s gonna be a problem."