The Prometheus Spark

The rope ladder groaned beneath Colton's weight, the rungs damp and splintered. Wind whispered from below—cold, stale, carrying groans and mutters that scraped his nerves raw. The deeper he went, the more the air felt… wrong. Like something had forgotten how to breathe.

His fingers ached. His legs burned. He didn't care. One more rung. One more heartbeat.

Then everything shifted.

No last step. No warning.

He was just there.

Standing on dead stone. Breathing air colder than ice. The change didn't feel physical—it felt mental, like a dream snapped into place around him. The world above vanished like it had never existed.

The Underworld stretched around him in all directions. There was no sky—just endless dark, swirling and pulsing like something alive. Jagged cliffs surrounded a barren plain, where rivers of black sludge bubbled and hissed through cracked ravines. The air was thick with rot and ash. Something distant screamed, then went silent.

Colton took a breath that felt like swallowing soot.

A growl rolled through the stone.

Then came the bark—deep, violent, like a building collapsing inside his chest.

Cerberus emerged from the smoke.

Three heads, each the size of a man. Eyes like hot coal. Teeth that didn't just cut—they ruined. Its body was more shadow than flesh, its movements smooth, unnatural. Each clawstep left deep gouges in the rock.

Colton moved. Fast. He triggered the Hermes speed in his blood, sidestepping the first strike as one head lunged down, jaws snapping shut inches from his shoulder.

Stone shattered.

The second head whipped sideways. It caught him mid-step.

The impact crushed the air from his lungs. His body flung backward like a broken rag, skidding across the ash-stained ground. Pain flared along his ribs. He tasted blood.

He got up, barely.

"You want a fight?" he spat out blood. "Come get one."

He triggered the light—the power Apollo had sparked into him. Golden heat burst from his palms, slamming into one of the heads. The beast reeled, but only for a second.

It roared, louder than before.

Colton ignited his spear and charged.

The left head struck. It clamped down on his waist, armor straining to hold. Bone-cracking pressure made him scream. His vision blurred. His spear clattered to the stone.

Cerberus threw him, and he hit hard.

He didn't get up this time.

The beast advanced. Saliva hissed where it dripped on the ground.

"Hey."

The voice cut through the chaos—cool, dry, sharp.

"Down, boy. He's not on the menu."

Cerberus stopped.

All three heads froze, still snarling but hesitant.

From the smoke walked a man in black.

He wasn't huge. He wasn't glowing. But he carried weight—the kind that bent rooms around it. His coat brushed the ash but never collected it. His skin was pale but not sickly. His hair slicked back like it didn't care. His eyes were bottomless and tired, like he'd seen too much and cared too little.

He didn't walk like a god.

He walked like someone who owned the place and didn't want to be bothered.

Colton pushed himself to one elbow. "Are you Hades?"

The man arched an eyebrow. "No. I'm Hermes after a bender." He paused. "Yes, I'm Hades. Who else do you think controls that?"

He nodded at Cerberus.

Colton groaned. "You're not what I expected."

"Good," Hades said. "I'd hate to be predictable."

He studied Colton like he was a puzzle missing pieces.

"I heard something unusual clawed its way down here. Another spark bearer."

"I didn't claw," Colton said. "I climbed."

"Semantics." Hades knelt near him, fingertips ghosting the cracked ground. "You know how long it's been since someone with Prometheus's spark made it all the way down?"

"No," Colton muttered.

"Neither do I." Hades leaned back on his heels. "I've got hundreds of you spark-bearers scattered down here. Some managed to find peace. Most didn't. You're a rare breed. Dying's usually what you do best."

Colton blinked through the ringing in his ears. "I'm not dead."

"Not yet," Hades said. "So. Why are you here?"

"Kevin." His voice cracked. "My friend. A shade took his soul. I want him back."

Hades stared. Then laughed. "You came all the way down here to save one mortal?"

Colton didn't answer.

Hades stood again, brushing ash off invisible places. "Look. I don't help mortals. Not unless there's a reason. You're all the same—selfish, messy, break everything you touch."

He stepped away, then stopped.

"But Cronus… he's not mortal. Not god. Not even Titan anymore. He's evolving. The longer he's trapped in Tartarus, the more he becomes something worse. And if he breaks free, he brings Chaos with him."

Colton swallowed. "Chaos?"

"The first void," Hades said, voice hollow. "The undoing of matter. If Cronus lets it loose, there won't be gods or mortals left to bury. Just emptiness."

He lifted a hand.

The air twisted.

A shade-lord appeared, writhing and screeching, its claws tight around a single flickering thread. A soul.

Kevin's.

Hades yanked it free. The shade screamed.

"You want it?" Hades asked. "There's a price. Someday, I'll call on you. You won't know when. You won't like it. But you'll answer."

Colton stared.

He didn't say it out loud.

But he thought it.

This feels like making a deal with the devil.

Hades looked sideways. "I'm not a devil, by the way."

"What?"

"I heard that thought." He smiled faintly. "Just because I run the Underworld doesn't mean I'm evil. It's a job. Somebody has to do it."

Colton sat up straighter. "Fine. I'll do it. I'll owe you."

"Good." Hades flicked his fingers.

The shade-lord exploded into ash.

Kevin's soul collapsed to the stone. Pale. Scared. "Colton?"

"Don't just sit there," Hades said. "Go."

He raised a hand.

Kevin vanished.

Hades turned back, expression unreadable.

"That was the first mortal I've ever helped. Not sure if I'm proud or nauseous."

He stepped close. Too close.

Colton didn't flinch.

Hades's hand pressed against Colton's chest, right over the spark.

Something shifted inside him. A new kind of cold. A silence that hummed.

"You'll need this," Hades said.

Colton's chest glowed faintly, heat curling up his spine.

"Now get the hell out of my realm."

The wind rose, biting and loud.

Colton vanished.

The cave wind hit him like a slap. He stumbled, coughing, falling to his knees.

He was back at the mouth of the cave.

Alive.

Breathing.

He can feel his bones already healing.

As the taste of blood lingers.

He pulled his armor aside.

A new mark had joined the others. Black, jagged, shaped like a crown made of blades. The silhouette of a helm stared back at him, its eye sockets hollow, endless.

The Helm of Darkness.

He didn't know what it did.

But he knew who gave it to him.

And that made it worse.