The Nameless Heir

"Kael, please heal him." Hypnos's voice came out softer than usual, stripped of its normal foolishness. For once, he didn't sound like an idiot—only desperate.

"Move aside," Kael muttered, stepping closer. He reached for Thanatos, but before he could lay a hand, the god's lips moved.

"Don't." His voice was rough, every word dragged out of exhaustion. He took a shallow breath. "Healing a god costs too much. It will drain you."

Kael's eyes lowered to his hand. He hadn't known that. Still, his reply was flat. "It's fine. I'm strong."

His palm pressed down, purple light burning against the wasted body. The power bled into Thanatos, and immediately Kael felt it—his strength being pulled out, drained into that hollow frame. His jaw tightened. "Damn… this is harsh."

Slowly, the god's body began to recover. His form grew, wings pushing back into shape, feathers returning one by one. But Kael couldn't hold it. The weight was too much, his energy bleeding out too fast. With a sharp pull, he tore the chains instead, forcing them free.

After that they left the volcano together. Hypnos clung to his brother while Kael's wings beat heavy, unsteady, dragging him higher through the ash-filled sky.

"Do you need help?" Hypnos asked carefully.

Kael shook his head once. "No. Help Thanatos. I'll be fine."

The words had barely left his mouth before the mountain roared behind them. The volcano split apart, lava spewing upward. Fire lit the hollow sky as black smoke choked out the peak.

Thanatos and Hypnos froze mid-flight, their faces drawn tight with shock.

"What… the hell is that?" Kael's words came out raw, chest tight. His eyes burned, every breath heavy, strength bleeding out of him.

Thanatos's face twisted, panic breaking through his usual calm. "We need to get away from here. Now."

His head snapped toward Hypnos. His voice rasped, low and sharp. "No. You… did you hide something from me?"

Hypnos's mouth clamped shut, eyes darting away.

"You didn't tell him before bringing him here?!" Thanatos shouted, fury cutting through his weakness.

Kael's vision blurred. His wings twitched, unsteady. "…Am I going to die?"

"Maybe," Hypnos muttered, voice small.

"Maybe?!" Thanatos's voice cracked. "We're not 'maybe' going to die—we are definitely going to die!"

The ground shook again. Another roar ripped through the hollow sky, louder than before. Smoke and fire poured upward as the mountain split wider. Something massive was moving beneath it.

The hair on Kael's arms rose, every nerve on edge. He had never felt anything like this. His hand lifted on its own, as if the air itself pressed him down.

"What is this feeling…" he muttered, voice low and rough. His eyes snapped to Hypnos, anger tightening in his chest. "What did you hide from me?"

The mountain cracked open, a line splitting its heart like the world itself had been torn apart.

Fire surged from its mouth. Lava burst outward, but it wasn't just stone breaking—it was alive.

A sound rose from the pit, too deep to belong to anything mortal. It shook the false sky, rattling the ground under their wings.

Then it came.

A hand, massive and black, tore free from the molten rock. Its fingers were twisted, claws dragging through fire as if it were water. Another followed, each movement slower, heavier, like the world itself resisted his birth.

Shoulders broke free next, scaled and ridged, not human in the slightest. From his back, wings unfurled wider than the mountain—one feathered, one torn like smoke.

Hypnos's breath hitched. His face drained of color. "No… no, no, no… not now."

Kael's eyes narrowed, shadows stirring at his boots as he hovered above the shattered peak. His voice cut through the roar, low and steady.

"Typhon." He looked at Hypnos. "That's why you told me about him."

A roar ripped through everything. The force sent them all rolling backward.

The monster bellowed. The sound carried through the hollow Underworld, rattling rivers, splitting stone. It wasn't just noise—it was a cry so raw it made the world itself flinch.

The mountain bled fire as more of him crawled free.

First came the hands, vast and black, claws longer than ships. They clutched the ground, tearing it open.

Then the chest and torso, scaled and ridged like living mountains.

From his neck, a hundred serpent heads twisted upward, hissing and shrieking. Venom poured from their jaws, fire spilling between fangs. Together they screamed, a noise so sharp it scraped Kael's skull.

Above them all rose the central face. Not man, not beast—something caught between, eyes burning with flame. A beard of snakes writhed as its mouth exhaled storms.

Flames poured down his body. Where legs should have been, endless coils writhed instead—serpents thick as rivers, slamming against the ground with every shift.

Kael froze. "What kind of monster is this? What the hell did Gaia create?"

When Typhon opened his maw, not just fire came out but ruin—storms, quakes, winds strong enough to rip trees from the ground.

The roar that followed shook the false Underworld. It wasn't just sound. It was every disaster chained into one voice.

The beast unfurled its wings like a storm given flesh. Kael's chest tightened. He turned sharply toward the brothers. "Fly. Now."

He moved first, shadows burning at his feet, but it didn't matter. Typhon's eyes locked onto him. Not them. Him.

And then—it smiled. A twisted, malicious curve that made Kael's skin crawl. A smile heavy enough to feel like a threat on its own.

The wings beat once. Then again. The air split, the false river below tearing apart under the gale. Typhon surged forward, storm made flesh.

"Go!" Kael roared, hurling himself into its path. His sword slammed against the monster's flesh, but it did nothing. Typhon only grinned wider, his hand descending like the strike of a god.

Kael raised his blade, but the force crushed him downward, driving him like a falling star. The impact ripped the river apart, carving a pit into the ground. The waters of the false Styx crashed back all at once, drowning him under its weight.

It wasn't chasing Hypnos and Thanatos. It was chasing him.

"I'm getting tired of everyone wanting to kill me." The words slipped between ragged breaths, bitter and pained.

His body refused him. Shock locked his muscles, leaving him still—like prey under a predator's gaze.

Then came the voice.

"Come out, son of Hades."

It wasn't a roar. It was worse. A sound that carried fear itself, sinking into skin, urging him to crawl into the dark and never leave. Not even his father had made him feel this way.

He forced himself to move, dragging through the water, swimming hard. But Typhon was there. Always there. Watching.

"Come out. I can see you."

The voice vibrated through the river, the water itself rippling, tearing at his chest.

"Fine."

Snakes hissed, venom dripping into the river. The poison bled fast, burning black as it spread. Kael felt it bite into his skin. No escape.

He shot upward, breaking the surface, wings snapping wide as he bolted in the opposite direction. Typhon surged after him.

Kael weaved through falling stone and fire, dodging as best he could. It didn't matter. The monster's hand caught his head in a single motion, slamming him down. Stone scraped his face raw. He tried to wrench free, but the grip only tightened.

Then it took his arm. Lifted him like nothing and slammed him again. And again. His body cracked under the force, his scream breaking with it.

The world spun as Typhon hurled him across the sky. His back struck jagged rock, crushing the air from his lungs.

The sound that tore out of him was raw, broken.

When his vision cleared, he saw where he'd landed—the way they had come in.

One arm hung useless at his side. His breath shallow.

He forced himself up.

Thanatos and Hypnos waited, pale and trembling. When Hypnos saw him—saw what Typhon had done—he broke. Tears ran down his face.

"I'm sorry, Kael…"

Kael gave him a cracked smile. "Go. Now. He's coming back."

He grabbed his broken arm, teeth grinding as he forced it back into place. The crack of bone made his jaw clench, but he didn't stop.

He was tired. Too tired.

"Envy. Lust." His voice was hoarse.

Lust came first, a whisper threading through his nerves. You're not scared. You feel nothing. No pain. No fear. He let it sink in, drowning out weakness.

Envy followed, colder. Their voices wove together, urging him on. Singing to him. Healing him.

He dug deeper. His blood had already claimed most of this place—eighty percent of the island was his. Now he was taking it back, draining the ground itself. The power trickled in, thin but steady, stitching him together.

The land shuddered with every pulse.

He needed time. Time to rebuild. To reach full strength.

But the mountain rumbled again. Typhon was already forcing his way through the hole.