Crowned in the realm of death

Hades plunged downward through the pitch-black void, his frail body tossed and battered as it struck the slick, mucous-covered flesh of Cronus's insides. The walls around him pulsed with sickening heat and the suffocating scent of decay. 

Each impact against the titan's inner body left searing pain across his skin, but worse was yet to come.

After what felt like an eternity of falling, he crashed into a churning lake of acidic fire—an otherworldly river that burned like molten lava, made to erase what dared to survive within the god-devouring prison.

 The moment his body touched the surface, agony consumed him. Hades let out a raw, piercing scream as his skin blistered and his flesh melted, layer by layer. But death did not come.

For his body, divine by nature, fought back.

Gods were not like mortals. They possessed incredible strength, unfathomable healing, sharp memory, and unnatural growth.

 His godly essence pulsed in defiance, forcing regeneration again and again. With every cycle of torment, his flesh melted and reformed.

Time passed, each moment carved into his soul by pain. And as two years crawled by in that infernal darkness, Hades unconsciously began to tap into his dormant power.

 His divine energy—wild and unstable—slowly started to obey. At first, it flickered like a dying flame. Then, with a burst of instinct, it surged outward, forming a protective layer around his body. 

The acid still burned, but now with less fury, no longer melting him to the bone—only scorching, the pain now bearable.

Within Cronus's living prison, Hades's body adapted at a supernatural pace. His form, once that of a helpless infant, now resembled a boy of twelve—tall, lean, and carved from struggle. His black wings, though charred, had grown larger and stronger, and his eyes now burned with a fierce violet glow, echoing the torment he had endured.

He began to explore the grotesque prison that had become his world. The acidic river hissed beneath him as he dove in, his body protected by a faint layer of divine energy.

He swam for what felt like hours, maybe even a full day, the darkness thick and oppressive, offering nothing but the sound of his own movement and the constant throb of Cronus's living flesh. He searched for something—anything—that hinted at an edge, a boundary, a way out. Then, through the void, a flicker.

A faint glimmer of light.

His breath caught—not from exhaustion, but surprise. Light in this cursed place? He pushed forward, swimming harder, driven by the hope that pierced through the black like a dagger. The glow grew stronger, warmer, until finally he emerged from the acid river and pulled himself onto a ledge of fleshy rock, slick but solid.

There, nestled within a small, unnatural cave carved into the wall of Cronus's stomach, stood a girl.

She looked no older than a high schooler—beautiful, ethereal even—with long, flowing blonde hair and eyes the colour of new spring leaves. A simple white cloth wrapped around her body, glowing faintly in the dark. In her delicate hands, she held a small lamp, its golden flame radiating not just light, but warmth. True warmth—the kind that made Hades feel like home, of safety.

She stood calmly, the only steady thing in a world of chaos, and as Hades approached, soaked and silent, the lamp's flame seemed to flicker in welcome.

Who was this girl?

And why, in the very pit of a titan's monstrous body, did her light feel like salvation?

~Hestia POV~

Hestia's Point of View

I still remember the warmth of that morning—the soft breeze brushing through the sacred garden of the temple, the way sunlight danced across the blossoms. I was playing there, carefree and smiling, when my father, Cronus, entered with Prometheus trailing behind him. Their faces were dark, solemn, as if burdened by something heavy and unspoken.

As was our custom, I knelt and greeted them with reverence, "Father. Uncle."

But before I could even rise, without a word, without warning—he seized me.

His hand wrapped around me like an iron trap, and before I could scream or plead, his mouth opened wide and swallowed me whole. Just like that. The world turned dark and twisted, and I fell—fell endlessly—until I crashed into a lake of burning acid that clawed at my skin and tore at my clothes. The pain was immediate, unbearable. I screamed, my voice lost in the churning roar.

But I am a goddess—daughter of Titans—and even in fear, I remembered who I was. I called upon my divine flame, forming a protective shell around me, shielding my body from the worst of it. With every pulse of agony, I forced myself to move, swimming blindly through the molten filth, searching for a surface, a wall—anything.

When I finally reached the inner flesh, I realised how steep and smooth it was, impossible to climb. So, with no other choice, I summoned my power again, carving a small cave into the wall with divine fire, a fragile shelter amid the horrors.

There, I stayed—resting, healing, and questioning. Why? What crime had I committed to deserve this? I was his daughter. I had done no wrong. And in that lonely place, I wept for my mother, for the warmth of our home, for the skies I would never see again.

Years passed in that haunting silence.

Until one day—a splash.

A scream echoed through the dark, raw and alive, filled with suffering I recognised all too well. My heart pounded. In this cruel place, where no other soul had stirred for so long, who could it be?

Then I saw him—emerging from the acid like a wounded bird—a boy. Wings of black metal shimmered behind him, and dark haze clung to his body like a curse. He looked like death itself. I trembled… but then I felt something.

Something deeper than fear. Something familiar.

I am Hestia, goddess of home and bonds. I know kin when I see them. And this child-this boy born of shadows-I recognised him not by face, but by soul.

My brother

His eyes met mine, wide with confusion. They asked everything without words:

Who are you?

Why are you here?

What is this place?

And I, holding the small lamp of divine warmth

in my hands, smiled for the first time in years.

You're not alone anymore.