Hecate felt like her body was going to explode into a million pieces, her joy and relief rushing over her in a palpable sensation. The last of her fear ebbed away as Aeëtes managed to close the wound that had been bleeding for a thousand years. His lips trailed over her skin as he moved down her nose, gently kissing her lips once.
“Not even death will keep me from you, little witch.”
Hecate threw her arms around his shoulders and kissed him back, the flames leaping from her body to his, encompassing both in the rich, ebbing tide of her power.
Aeëtes’s arms slid down her back and gripped her thighs, getting ready to pick her up and take them both to the ground, but a massive screeching sound pierced through the air. Hecate ripped herself from Aeëtes and stood a few feet away, her arms ready at her sides as she started scanning the heavens for the threat.
Aeëtes looked up and saw it, that same dreadful vortex appearing in the skies above them. It was tinged in the cantankerous shades of pink and green, the smell of rotting flowers putrefying on the wind. There was another deadly screech, and he watched on as out dropped Hera, hurtling towards the ground. Her long, signature brunette hair was whipping around her face, her eyes tinged with a sick glow. She landed on the ground with the same impact as Hecate, sending another shockwave through the Underworld, and Aeëtes got a good look at the queen of the gods enraged.
He had seen her mad before, but never like this. She looked more like a demon or a deranged siren than a goddess. Her skin had taken on the appearance of a bruise, and the hem of her tunic was strewn with rotting flowers. Even her hands had long, broken nails, nearly filed to the shape of claws. She stalked towards Hecate, and every step she took, the grass died beneath her feet. Hera was everything that was supposed to be divine—flowers, light, and growth—but she was filled with rot from the inside.
Hecate turned to look at Aeëtes, tossing her chin in his direction. “Stand back, Aeëtes, and get out of the way.”
He did what she said without question; he was no fool to think that he would be able to help in a fight between the goddesses. Aeëtes found a large boulder a stone’s throw away, and ran to it, standing at its side to keep an eye on the feud.
Hecate had turned her attention to Hera, the tri-head appearing, and the snakes on her skin began moving. They writhed until they slowly became three-dimensional then pulled themselves off her skin and dropped to the ground. Whenever one fell, a new one would take its place around her arms, until it, too, fell off. They followed Hecate as she walked, almost like a living, undulating train of her skirt.
Hera and Hecate stalked towards one another until they were barely forty feet apart.
“All I have ever asked is that you give me what’s mine,” Hera hissed, and Aeëtes could hear her voice echoing throughout the Underworld. Hecate shook her head once, not even honoring Hera with a verbal response. Hera shrieked and spat in anger.
“Then I guess there’s no point in pleasantries,” Hera roared and crouched, leaping up in the air. Hecate did the same, both of the goddesses kicking off the ground in a fury of power. They went soaring towards one another, nearly obscured in clouds of pink and red magic, rotting flowers falling from Hera as snakes littered the ground underneath Hecate.
The goddesses crashed into one another in midair, causing a crash like a thunderclap to shake the very foundations of hell. The sky above them went dark, as if a storm were rolling in, and even lightning began flashing amongst them. Aeëtes could only see the goddesses now, illuminated by their own power, as they went falling to the earth amidst a storming sky. Waves of power rolled off them like shockwaves, and Aeëtes found himself sliding down to the ground and gripping the boulder to not get blown away.
Hera and Hecate were tangled together as they fell, Hecate with her hands wrapped tightly around Hera’s throat. Hera clawed for purchase, streaking her nails across the crone’s face, but nothing broke Hecate’s concentration. She was murmuring, beginning to wind together a spell that Hera could feel, the trickles of Hecate’s magic feeling like spiderwebs on her skin.
Before she could try to retaliate, they crashed into the ground. The goddesses jumped to their feet and climbed out of the pit that their impact had made, smoke now rising up from all around them. The atmosphere was responding to the threat of the gods, and it was throwing the entire Underworld into a storm. Hecate stood with her arms held out, her lips ever moving, and Hera began to shriek. The spell felt like it was crawling all over her arms and legs, and then it began to tighten. It was a binding spell, one that would keep Hera bound to the land that she was on.
“You’re going to have to try harder than that!” she yelled at Hecate, reaching down and pulling the magic off of her like she was pulling weeds off her skirt. Hecate felt a sharp sting at a spell broken, and both of the goddesses were launching themselves at one another.
Aeëtes was transfixed, gripping the stone tightly and finding himself desperately thinking of a way to help. A calm voice appeared next to him, causing him to fall over in surprise.
“Hecate has to be careful.” Aeëtes looked up to see Thanatos, now perched on the boulder next to him. His dark hair was nearly covering his eyes, and his armor gleamed in the dark light of the storm.
“What does that mean?” Aeëtes urged him, standing up and staring at the god. “What do you mean she has to be careful?”
Thanatos turned to look at Aeëtes, studying him. “You don’t know much about witchcraft, do you?”
“I missed that subject when I was younger,” Aeëtes deadpanned, flinching when there was another explosion and a wave of power that poured out from the battle behind him.
“Witchcraft is powerful,” Thanatos warned him. “There has to be some sort of balancing act in the universe to keep it from running wild. Whatever you send out comes back to you.” He waited until Aeëtes processed that information, realization dawning on him. There was another shriek, and Aeëtes couldn’t bear to look to see who it had come from.
“Hecate can only do so much because if she ends Hera outright…”
“She’s eventually doomed herself,” Thanatos finished for him, both of them turning to look at the brawl. The goddesses were entangled, and Aeëtes was pained to see that Hecate was the one who was beginning to look tired.
“What do we do?” Aeëtes hissed as he turned back to Thanatos with rage in his eyes. “Why are you here?”
Thanatos shrugged, looking utterly unbothered. “Someonehere is on my list. I don’t know who.”
“You don’tknow?”Aeëtes suppressed the desire to punch him in the jaw. “How do you not know?” Thanatos had a dazed look on his face, as if he were looking at something none of them could see.
“It’s changing too quickly. Every other second, I’m here for Hera, or Hecate, or…you.” He turned to look at Aeëtes with cold, blue eyes. Then something changed in the air around them. It happened quickly, like a flash of lightning, and the atmosphere dropped twenty degrees. Aeëtes almost screamed as all the color drained from his vision, the entire world had gone black and white. A small, serpentine smile appeared on Thanatos’s face, his pupils dilating. His countenance flickered and Aeëtes felt a chill go down his spine as he looked at the God of death, who seemed to be coming alive.
“Never fear, Aeëtes.” His voice sounded like oil, “When will you remember that witchcraft is not the only power that Hecate possesses?” Aeëtes tumbled back from the boulder and fell backwards, his eyes going wide as he stared on in shock. Thanatos stood up, stretching until he stood over ten feet tall. His body began to emanate a blue light, his eyes going entirely black. He licked his lips, and Aeëtes could see that his teeth had grown out into fangs. A wicked looking blade appeared at his waist, which Aeëtes knew hadn’t been there before.
Thanatos often got a bad reputation as the God of Death. He was kind and gentle, appearing as rest, peace, and eternal sleep. This wasnotthat god. This was the God of death as retribution, vengeance, and finality. Thanatos looked positively hungry as he stared at the goddesses, who were entrenched with each other once again, their clothes ripped and bleeding ichor from various scratches on their skin. They seemed to be catching their breath, a few feet apart from one another, finding a small reprieve.
