Erebus left before sunrise. He knew that Nyx heard him leave but couldn’t summon the courage to acknowledge it. Something in them had cracked, and he didn’t know how to fuse it back together. Whether it was the prophecy or a break that had been brewing between them, he didn’t know what could save them. If Nyx felt like their relationship was that tenuous, thatfragile,then he was out of ways to convince her otherwise.
The Underworld was still dark, and Erebus felt Nyx depart Tartarus not long after he left. She hadn’t come looking for him. Slowly, methodically, from where he sat in between the realms, he felt his darkness come back to him. Shadows rushed over the grass and disappeared at his ankles while waves of black clouds rolled over the meadow’s skies. He watched and recognized Nyx in her primordial form from a distance, ushering nightfall back under her breast, tucking stars into her hair, and descending the moonlight back into the depths. It was a long time before Erebus moved, watching the sun rise, wondering what the purpose of darkness was without night.
Skies moved when primordials and immortals navigated their way through the world. Not a cloud moved in the Underworld when Zeus crossed the border and began walking the fields, looking for Erebus. Erebus didn’t move. He waited, eternal in his patience, as he knew that the dogged god would find him eventually. It was no surprise what Zeus was after, and it was a conversation that Erebus was all too willing to avoid.
It was impossible to miss Zeus as he rounded a hilltop and saw Erebus down below, on the banks of Styx. Only Dionysus made a louder entrance.
“Erebus!” Zeus clapped his hands together, a thunderclap disrupting the solitude that Erebus was licking his wounds in. He didn’t acknowledge the god’s presence with anything but a subtle nod, refusing to even look in his direction. Zeus watched the back of Erebus’s head as he walked down the slope, unable to keep the scowl off his face as the golden-boy facade cracked. He wasoverthese primordials and their temper tantrums.
When Erebus sensed the god was next to him, he turned, looking at the saccharine smile that Zeus had plastered on his face. To anyone else, it would be genuine—charming, even—but Erebus’s desire to smother the grin off Zeus’s face had him pulling back his shadows before they followed through.
“Zeus.” Erebus’s face was expressionless. “What brings you to the Underworld?”
“Can an immortal not visit the realms as he pleases?” The reply was both a quip and a challenge, putting Erebus on edge. There was nothing he hated more than the passive aggressive word games of the gods, of their oaths and promises that said one thing and meant another. He was much more prone to blunt statements and swift action, and why wouldn’t he be? He had the power to back it up.
“An immortal, maybe. Are the gods immortal? Seems too soon to tell.” It was Erebus’s turn to smile. To Zeus’s credit, only a flicker of emotion passed over his face.
“I’d like to speak to you about that, actually.”
“Your mortality? I’d love to discuss it.” Erebus couldn’t resist. The frustrations of the past year started bubbling up to the surface, a slick, white-toothed grin of an ancient predator slipping across his face. Zeus fought back a shiver at the feral look in the ancient’s eyes.
“This affects all of us, Darkness.” Zeus used the Greek title that man had picked up over the past few centuries. It didn’t inspire the severity that he had hoped as Erebus only raised an eyebrow.
“Does it?”
“Yes,” Zeus sighed as though he was repeating himself to a child instead of a primordial, older and more powerful than he was.
The gall on him, though…Erebus’s thoughts were violent.He certainly does believe his own mythos, which is impressive for a god who created half his own stories.
“I’m waiting with bated breath.”
Zeus took a step closer to Erebus and looked him dead in the eye, his mouth tightening into a thin line. It was the most severe that Erebus had ever seen Zeus; most of his expressions were laced with some bought of comical anger or mischief.
“We need you. This confrontation with Kronos is getting closer every day. You know this, and I won’t repeat to you the severity of the situation we find ourselves in.”
“The situationwefind ourselves in?” Erebus couldn’t help but push. This entire situation was Zeus’s fault. He wasn’t going to allow the child-God to push a narrative where he was the victim. Zeus threw up his hands in mocking frustration.
“However we got here, we’re here now.”
“No.” Erebus’s voice was resolute. There was a timbre in his voice alone that rivaled all the thunder Zeus could manufacture. “How did we get here, God of lightning? If you want me to join your cause, be direct about it.”
Zeus stared at Erebus, his brow darkening. There was an anger to Zeus that made Erebus understand why man and other gods were afraid of him; why they had so willingly fallen under his heel. It had nothing to do with his ability to lead, whether he was the most powerful or even the most likable. No. Zeus’s secret was much more nefarious than that—more dangerous than all the demons in the Underworld. Zeus wasvolatile.His face twisted, and any traces of niceties fell away. What remained was an angry man, lightning crackling between his fingertips and smelling like smoke. What he didn’t understand was that there was nothing Erebus loved more than the scent of conflict and scorched earth.
“My father has had his time.” Zeus spoke and his voice had transformed, devoid of true power but loud. Loud enough to hide its insecurities from anyone but a primordial, who had seen everything since the day that they had created themselves.
Interesting.Erebus let his eyes wander over Zeus’s body, watching as Zeus almost imperceptibly shifted his weight nervously from one leg to the other.Do you not like feeling scrutinized? What is it like, being on the other end of a power dynamic where you don’t know what the other man will do?Erebus kept the thoughts to himself, but his shadows reacted once more, reading his subconscious thoughts like commands. They slipped out from under his chiton, curling around Erebus’s strong legs before sliding over to Zeus.
Zeus could only watch in horror and pull his hands away as the shadows gripped his fingers, extinguishing the lightning like candles.
“Erebus—”
“You do not speak honestly,” Erebus growled, tired of Zeus’s games. He made no effort to recall his shadows as more of them poured from him, wrapping around Zeus like hungry dogs. The blackness licked at his arms and his legs, winding around his waist as they pushed at his back. Zeus’s face turned from anger to panic as he began pulling at the shadows like they were flies he could cast off. Every time he tried, his hands went through the shadows, and they tightened their grip.
“Stop this,” Zeus roared, the last of his control shattered. His face was red, and his beard was flecked with spit as he yelled at Erebus, a sound that was possessed like that of a dying animal. It was not the noise of a powerful god but a weak man or a lame predator. He attempted to lunge for Erebus, but the shadows around his ankles snared, causing Zeus to fall to the ground in a tumble of blackness. He landed with a cracking noise as weak bolts of lightning shot out of him and singed the grass around his body.
“You do not speak honestly,” Erebus repeated himself, bending down on one knee and leaning over Zeus’s face until he was next to the god’s ear. “I will have nothing to do with liars and cons, Zeus. Mark my words—watch your back. It’s dangerous to play power games when you only have agod’sshare.”
As if to spite him, there was a strike of lightning, and Erebus and the shadows were gone. Zeus waited a breath, then two, before sitting up slowly. He was alone on the hill in Asphodel.
