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Two hundred years was a long time to think.
It was just enough time for the soul to spend this time sleeping and recovering. From some wounds, however, even the soul of God could have never recovered. He looked down at the world below his feet, the one he was projecting just from a mere curiosity.
Usually, when two hundred of years passed, Earth changed drastically. People were developing science, their building, their clothes. The only thing that, apparently, was left without any kind of attention was their faith and behavior.
As for a God, he considered it sad to see. Somewhere, deep within, he was glad opportunities were taken. Humanity knew what steps to take to expand their knowledge. They knew how to properly use given resources, they had ability to take action and foresee the consequences. They weren’t really dumb. However, their intelligence started and stopped in the science fields.
A long time ago they stopped caring about each other. Too often he heard about rapists, murderers, criminals. They spread heresy. They lacked modesty and most of all - love. How could anyone say people were able to feel that emotion, if all they did to their loved ones was suffering? They cheat on each other. Husbands abused wives. Children bullied each other. Employers were treating employees with a below zero level of respect. They passed through a beggar on the street and kick him. They have never reached out for those needing help. They cared only for wealth, money and power. They created wars.
It wasn’t like he wanted to destroy them. People destroyed mankind a long time ago already.
Every time he awoke again, there was a small, black flame of hope dancing within his soul. He always thought that maybe they finally managed to learn what is essential in life. He hoped to wake up to the world without burned up temples. Without killed animals, grass stained with blood. Yet each time he opened his eyes, what graced him was the world even worse he remembered.
Two hundred years was never enough to repair what was lost.
He tried to give them many chances, really. In fact, Hades was giving humanity a chance every time he woke up from this long slumber. He was continuously giving them chances during every Holy War. They were too prideful, though. They didn’t kneel in front of their own Goddess, how could he expect from them to kneel in front of other Gods? Foolish and ridiculous.
He still pitied them, truly.
Humans were unable to recognize the real blessing they got. The Earth, the sun, the nature. If it wasn’t for Gods, they would still be stuck in that dark, little hole without any consciousness, emotions or desires. How easily it came for them to claim the world as theirs, even if it belonged to Gods.
To give them a new start was what Hades wanted. Sinners deserved nothing but punishment, yet they couldn’t even agree to that. They blamed it on justice, while that word should have already be crossed out of their dictionary. Instead of accepting that, they rather engage themselves into meaningless fights. What was the point if in the span of years humans threw their friends, children even! into claws of death. Didn’t they see how wrong it was? Normally, that bravery and desire to save the Earth would grant them peaceful rest in Elysion. But there was nothing noble about getting themselves killed for rotting grounds and rotting hearts; they can never be revived. It was worse than suicide. Simply, it was like reproducing only to give Athena new soldiers that, eventually, would end up either dead or cursed anyway. Yet she dared to speak about love.
Hades would reawake over and over. Until he can complete what a God should do.
For now, he was still a ghost notion flickering in the depths of Underworld. His soul has taken the image of his new vessel, but it wasn’t important how it looked like. Perhaps, the boy wasn’t even born yet.
That gave him time to slowly revive all his Specters. Watch them train from behind the curtain, point out their mistakes, give them lessons. Listen to them bicker; they knew each other so well after all.
They were like family, weren’t they? Hades didn’t need big declarations of love and devotion. Those yelling about that the loudest were usually the first one to betray. What was enough to him was the knowledge that despite the arguments and mutual teasing, his Specters still were the first ones to stand by the side of their companions shall they need help. That was the army Hades created. That was the army Hades wanted.
“I am your Specter.” he turned around at that sound, but there was no one except him. What did he expect? He didn’t yet start to revive his warriors, focused on strengthening his cosmos first.
Still, the words were so clear like there was someone standing right by his side. That was illusion, the painful remembrance of a wound that didn’t yet closed. Perhaps, the wound like this can never close. It will stop screaming and digging its claws into his throat, turning into nothing but dust. But if you blow the dust away, it may still make you cough, tickling your throat.
He knew something about wounds. He was covered with dust.
“Are you, or are you not?” he asked into the void, reaching out his hands. There was nothing in front of him. Nothing behind, neither above nor below.
Was it alright to remember? Clinging to the past like this was nothing Gods should do; was nothing a God like Hades should do. Still, forgetting meant losing his identity.
Sometimes, he wished memories could be locked as easily as his body was locked in Elysion.
Specters… All of them were different, weren’t they? Their personalities were like leaves, or clouds in the sky (but Hades knew very little about clouds in the sky). He was choosing them carefully, but paid even more attention to the star he aligned them with. Thus he had gentle ones. Violent ones, beautiful ones, strange ones. Funny ones and the ones thinking they were funny while, in fact, they were quite miserable. Hades cherished them, truly. Despite his harsh words or actions. He mourned every single one of them, it didn’t matter if they died for the first or sixth time.
Sometimes, even Specters deserved punishment, though.
Sometimes, even Specters betrayed him.
“You told me that human doesn’t matter, but it wasn’t the truth, was it?” he hummed and only silence answered.
The first time Hades saw Kagaho through the eyes of his vessel, he knew he wasn’t like all of them. That man (boy, back then!) has never wanted anything from him. He never asked for more power, even if Hades would have granted him with all the power he could store. He never wanted revenge, neither being on top.
“I only want to protect Lord Hades.”
How delighted he was to hear these words! Obviously, his Specters were supposed to protect him from danger or damage. Twin Gods were in charge of keeping his body safe. Yet, usually it still seemed like it was Hades protecting them, or fighting by their side. Don’t understand him wrong, he was used to that. He never wanted that to change. Still, Kagaho was the first one to voice it out so carelessly. Like it was natural.
With fondness, Hades was reminiscing that small, barely visible cut he earned from the impact of Gold Saint attack and which enraged Kagaho so much. Specter of Violence.
If it wasn’t for the fact that Hades has experienced angry Kagaho, he would have never said there was anything violent about him.
When he spoke to him, his voice was gentle. When he touched him, it could be compared to nothing but feathers gently tickling his skin. Kagaho was also terribly smooth with words.
“I will grant Lord Hades victory in this Holy War, so your majesty can save the world.”
It was night time by then and Kagaho just came back from the Sanctuary straight to the chamber where Hades was settled up on his throne. The Specter kneeled and kissed his hand, tenderly, as if he was a jewel. Hades quickly forgot five seconds earlier he was upset with Pandora that tried to force decisions upon him. Bliss filled him from head to toe and ten minutes later, Kagaho was telling him stories from the mortal world while he was settled on his lap.
Sometimes it was upsetting how small the body of his vessel was comparing to his own. Despite being filled with power, it was tiny and fragile.Sometimes his bones hurt from standing too long in front of the canvas. He could have blown the entire Underworld with a single move of his finger, but that body gave him enough troubles so far. Besides, Hades really missed his true appearance.
He was beautiful, he wasn’t even making that up. Yet, his own body was too precious to be tainted. Mortals couldn’t really appreciate his presence.
There were times like that, when minor Specters played with saints on Earth and Underworld, except planning the Holy War strategy, was in peace. Laughters or small whispers could have been heard in the vast corridors of his palace and each time Hades thought that was the way it should be.
His vessel was really intrusive, though. Especially when Hades had his guard down.
“Lord Hades!” it was like watching himself from behind a glass wall. His soul has been trapped in a small, golden cage and he could swear Alone was laughing at him. At how easily he managed to claim his own body.
Everyone thought it took him no effort. He had chosen a vessel, he took it, end of the story. However, having two souls in one body was no unicorns and rainbows. There were times when his vessel’s soul was exhausted enough for Hades to put him into a peaceful slumber. He had never make them dream about anything; only warmth and darkness. The stronger and vicious the vessel was, though, the harder it was. Usually screams accompanied him for the whole time. Alone was always screaming. Sometimes it was too tiring to endure.
Black dots began to dance in front of his eyes, slender fingers wrapping tighter around his throat to completely cut him out of air. Alone really was ready to die only to chase his soul away, wasn’t he?
He slapped Kagaho’s hand away from his own the moment he took the control of that body back. Hades was enraged. That memory was still making him angry.
It took a lot of coaxing from Kagaho’s side to calm him down.
“You or Alone, you are the same, my Lord. I am your Specter.”
Since that time, Hades felt sheltered only when Kagaho was within his eyes reach. All the other times, he was wary like a predator resting in the wild.
Kagaho quickly became his shadow, and right hand.
“You know I could have just revived him.” it was a casual sentence, like Hades was stating something too obvious to not be noticed before. They were sitting on his bed, far too big for only two people, cut out from the rest of the room by the dark purple canopy. He couldn’t foresee how angry that would make Kagaho.
“Never.” was the only word he hissed before storming out of the room. Hades never touched this subject again.
But he was curious, obviously. That was the only thing awaking in Kagaho reactions different than his usual numbness. For a while, Hades was even insecure. The next day they acted like nothing happened.
“It always was Alone, wasn’t it? Because he looked almost exactly like your brother.”
The void couldn’t reply, but Hades knew it was the truth. Usually he wasn’t interested in stories of the dead ones kept in the Underworld. Death was death. Some died because they were old, others in a fight. Kagaho’s brother died because he was assured of being a burden and the reason for the Specters wounds and misery. The protection, the devotion, putting himself in front of his vessel, it was all because Kagaho has seen it as an imitation of his human life, wasn’t it?
When Hades understood that, it was too late anyway, because Kagaho has long claimed his loyalty to Alone.
He couldn’t mourn or be angry. He couldn’t even feel betrayed, because that Holy War was already on the edge, the winning scale bending toward Athena and her Saints.
Now there was nothing but void enveloped him and Hades let himself reminiscence, just for a little longer.
Kagaho truly was someone different.
He worshipped him with the use of simplest words, strangely, they were more satisfying that those fancy ones. He comforted him. Kept him safe and treated his injuries when Alone played against him again, assuring him it was only because the vessel used his power. He kissed his aching limbs and kept him warm. Most of all, however, Kagaho was his companion. The Specter didn’t mind how much Hades was rambling. With utmost interest he was listening to stories of the past ages, or reasons for saving the world, or that couple of humans he considered worth keeping alive.
When the night was turning into a dawn and the Holy War was slowly turning into its most tragic outcome, he read him ancient books out loud, so Hades could store his power in peace, without disturbance.
Many times Hypnos was advising him to not let his guard down too much; the calmer and more rational of the twins, but Hades always waved it away.
The illusion washed over him like a clean, cold water.
“I told you he was causing me so many troubles, Kagaho.”
As if the void could listen. As if the void could answer.
“Would you have come back to me?”
A question, a wonder, a plea.
The next vessel of his was not really this troublesome, for most of that short time Hades had him, at least. That boy, Shun, he believed, had a heart of pure gold. He didn’t really have any hidden motives, he hated violence; truly, the pure soul.
When the phoenix, weary from the fight, appeared in his throne chamber, Hades felt like the entire world stopped moving for a while. The bird of magnificent wings, not afraid of fire and pain…
“His cosmos feels familiar.” it did, didn’t it? It wasn’t only because he was Shun’s older brother, despite how hard Pandora tried to reassure him of that.
But it was only a mere wish. Another illusion. Devotion of no one’s could compare to those of Kagaho’s. Their strength could not compare, too. Wasn’t that a cruel work of fate, though? Presenting him the brothers so similar to those of the past.
“He couldn’t compare to you, Kagaho.”
No one could compare to you, he wanted to add, but that was of no use.
Dead were dead.
He could have only grant Kagaho’s eternal rest side by side with his brother.