Beyond The Impossible

Olympus, 28,000 light-years from Earth

No mortal has ever seen Olympus, even though the entire galaxy revolves around it in an almost literal sense. While it’s not located in the exact center of the Olympian Galaxy, the stellar cluster that surrounds it is nearly impossible to reach for anyone who isn’t a god.

Ilithyia hasn’t been here very often: as the Goddess of Childbirth, she’s had very few reasons to visit. Even now she’s here against her will, immobilized by chains of neutral matter, and she’s kneeling at the center of a room surrounded by twelve thrones.

Most of them are currently empty, including the tallest one belonging to Zeus himself. The room is uncharacteristically dark, with a single pillar of light centered on Ilithyia’s spot.

She recognizes a few of the gods looking down on her. Hera, on the right side of the throne of Zeus, is staring at her with blue eyes flaming with anger. Athena, on the left side of Zeus, is her exact opposite: her silver eyes are showing no emotion whatsoever.

The other two goddesses that Ilithyia can see are similarly antithetical: her sister Hebe looks distraught and is biting her nails, while Aphrodite hums softly and absent-mindedly checks her manicure. Much to Ilithyia’s surprise, Circe is also present, standing next to Hera.

The only one not obscured by the shadows is Apollo, bright as always and strangely quiet.

The Greek gods are not alone. For the first time in countless centuries, a representative from another pantheon was admitted to enter Olympus.

<Lord Khonsu of Naqada. The Queen recognizes your right to address the Council Of The Twelve Gods.> Athena states; as usual, Hera lets her carry out the bureaucratic duties.

<That’s a stupid name. There haven’t been twelve occupied seats since, like, forever. We should totally get a new name.> Aphrodite comments.

Nobody pays attention to her, which is something she’s not accustomed to. But the Egyptian god standing before them, a pitch black silhouette covered by a white cloak, is still an enemy.

<The Council of Death of the Naqada Galaxy relinquishes all claims on the Olympian Galaxy. As a gesture of peace among our pantheons, we hand over the war criminal Ilithyia to Queen Hera.>

<War criminal?> Ilithyia repeats, utterly confused.

<Agreed. Now get the Tartarus out of my realm.> Hera says angrily. Khonsu takes a polite bow and then simply vanishes, even faster than a god can see.

<What is going on?> Ilithyia asks. Athena stands up dramatically, hitting the ground with her lance three times and then pointing it at her half-sister.

<Princess Ilithyia of Olympus. You stand accused of espionage, treason, adultery, acts unbecoming of a deity, crimes against divinity and conceiving a child out of wedlock. How do you plead?>

<What are you talking about? I carry the child of Helios, conceived after our marriage!>

<LIES!!!> Hera shouts, standing up with her body glowing with righteous indignation: Ilithyia can’t remember ever seeing her so angry.

<How long did you think you could hide the divine aura of your child? The aura of an Egyptian!?>

<Mother, I don’t know what you’re talking about! I never…> Ilithyia tries to defend herself, then she pauses: there can be no mistake, she can feel the child is half-Egyptian… but it should be impossible, since she’s never slept with any of the Egyptian gods.

<Mother, I swear on all that is holy, this is not what it seems!>

<And why should I believe someone willing to betray her own pantheon?>

<I never betrayed Olympus!> Ilithyia shouts with conviction, and she would almost be believable if it wasn’t followed by a recording of her own voice coming from a device held by Circe.

<Once I take over Olympus, I will need to be more than the goddess of childbirth.> it repeats.

<That is a lie! You can’t trust Circe over your own daughter!>

<I checked the recording myself. It’s genuine.> Athena vouches, which Hera doesn’t appreciate.

<I don’t need your technology to tell me who to trust, Athena! If the Ice Queen hadn’t asked Circe to check the aura of your child, you would’ve continued to lie to me!!!>

<The Ice Queen?> Ilithyia repeats, trying to wrap her head around how Circe could’ve tricked Hera.

“I hope this trial doesn’t drag on too long. It would be pretty awkward if my transformation spell wears out and the baby turns back to being fully Greek.” Circe thinks.

<You didn’t answer my question, Ilithyia. How do you plead?> Athena asks again.

<Not guilty! Mother, please, have mercy! I am your daughter!>

<She is guilty. Any objections?> Hera asks. Since Zeus is not present, the rest of the Council could technically overrule her decision… but not a single hand rises in defense of the accused goddess.

<Ilithyia. As Queen of the Olympian Galaxy, I hereby revoke all your privileges and duties as a vassal of Zeus and permanently expel you from the House of Kronos. The Council is dismissed.>

<Ugh, these things are sooo boring! I missed a three-species foursome for this!> Aphrodite complains, vanishing in a cloud of sweet perfume.

<If this is how you win your battles, no wonder you didn’t show up at the Battle of the Gorgon’s Veil.> Apollo tells Athena, before teleporting away.

<I’d better leave as well. Nothing good ever happens at our family meetings.> Athena says, teleporting together with Circe and Hebe.

<That’s… that’s it? You’re not going to exile me like Vesta?> Ilithyia asks. Only now she notices that some of the thrones behind her were occupied the whole time, when Adrestia calmly walks towards Hera and makes a military salute.

<Your Majesty. With your permission, I would be honored to take control over the territories and armies formerly under the supervision of Ilithyia, as well as secure the border of the Apollo sector.>

<Permission granted. Now leave, please, I need a moment with my children.>

<As you wish, Your Majesty.> Adrestia responds, taking a bow before teleporting away.

Ilithyia is glad to be finally alone with her mother: she may be furious with her, but she’s always been able to manipulate her. There’s still a way to get out of this.

Then the ground shakes once the last god stands up from his throne. As he gets closer, the shadow of this eight foot tall behemoth fills Ilithyia with dread.

<M-mother, please, let’s… let’s talk about this…>

<All of my other children are failures. Hephaestus managed to get himself killed by a mortal, Enyo had the audacity of trying to kill me, Hebe married one of my husband’s bastards, and now Ilithyia betrays us for the Egyptians. All of them except you, my son.>

<Mother, I beg of you, don’t…> Ilithyia says, trying to appeal to her mother’s mercy, when a god’s hand grabs her by the hair and lifts her off the ground.

<I’m not a perfect goddess, I’ll be the first to admit it. I am too fond of mortals, I am too forgiving, I am too modest… and I can’t kill my own children.> Hera says, turning her back towards Ilithyia.

<You never let me play with my sisters. Not since I broke Enyo.> the giant god says. His breath smells of blood and gunpowder.

<Do with her as you please, Ares. She is no longer my daughter.>

<You may want to move behind the throne, then. You’re in the splash zone.> he says, placing both hands to each side of Ilithyia’s head.

<No! Don’t kill me, please! Please! I’m pregnant! You’ll kill us both!> she pleads, using all of her divine strength in an attempt to break free. A breeze would have an easier time to move a planet.

<The more the better. You’re the best little sister ever.> he says, starting to apply more pressure.

Hera still doesn’t turn towards him. She doesn’t pay much attention to the horrible sounds, from the screams to the cracks to the splash of blood that covers the thrones. Only when she hears the sound of a body hitting the floor she understands that it’s over, although some body parts need another second.

<I’ll have some lesser god clean it up.> she finally says.

<I’ll keep the juicy parts.> Ares comments, licking the blood off his hands as he walks towards her.

<I don’t know what I would do without you, my son. This galaxy has been going crazy since your aunt Hestia and her pet mortal showed up.>

<Sounds pretty interesting, mother. Tell me all about it… I’m always looking for more meat for the slaughter.>

 

Naqada Galaxy, 17 million light-years from Earth

The dungeon beneath the palace of Nephthys is a scary place: countless mortals have perished here over the eons, unable to die without their captor’s permission. It’s an unescapable nightmare that crushes all hope. Hermes is passing his time here whistling cheerfully while chained to a wall.

The chains are made of intertwined snakes, a tiny emanation of the power of Nephthys but still powerful enough to hold a god prisoner. Except they’re now melting away.

<Ah, that’s about time. I was starting to fear that Sunshine had lost her touch.> he comments, massaging his wrists. In his mind there’s little doubt about what happened to Nephthys or who was responsible: if he’s learned one thing over the years, it’s to never underestimate Null.

<Hmm, should I keep this dungeon, once I’ve conquered the Naqada Galaxy for myself? It’s not exactly my style, but…> he wonders out loud, stopping only when he hears an animal growling.

It’s coming from the same unusually large black jackal that he saw sitting next to Nephthys.

<Hey, little buddy. It’s okay, I’m just the new boss, no need to be angry at me!>

<You are not the one making  him angry.> is the answer coming from the ceiling. Or rather, from the two humanoids with golden skin, a man and a woman, who have just phased through the ceiling.

<Ugh, you guys are still here? I thought someone already killed you.> Hermes complains.

<We are Eden. Death does not concern us.>

<Yeah yeah, I’ve heard that before. Let me guess, you were waiting for Nephthys to kick the bucket before taking over the planet?>

<We have no interest in the planet. But every living creature on it has already joined Eden.>

<Sounds like fun. But, while I hate to be rude, I have places to be. See ya!> Hermes waves at them, expecting to be in another solar system by the time they blink. Except their eyes never close, and Hermes hasn’t moved an inch.

<You are not from this galaxy.> the female Eden says.

<You could say I have a reputation for getting around. Did you just flirt with me? Because I’ve never been with a hive mind before, but I can’t say it’s not something I’d be willing to try.>

<We need access to what you call the Olympian Galaxy. There was a presence preventing you from taking us there, but it is gone now. You will now take us there.>

<And why would I do that, sweet cheeks?>

<Because we are Eden. We are the destiny of all living things.>

<Perhaps I wasn’t clear enough. What’s in it for me if I help you?>

<You will witness perfection. It is the highest honor for those who cannot join Eden.>

<Or, and I’m just spitballing here, you tell me what you’re looking for, so I can steal it for myself and aaargh!> Hermes shouts in pain, crawling on the floor as the golden eyes of the Eden shine.

<The will of Eden shall not be denied. Submit or be destroyed. There is no other way.>

Hermes feels like his brain is on fire, not unlike when Null used her God Eraser against him. It does seem to take a lot of effort out of the two Eden, who don’t seem to notice the jackal behind them grow twice his original size. Not until the animal’s jaws swallow the male Eden’s head, tearing it off the rest of his body. The telepathic attack ceases when the female turns intangible to escape the jackal’s claws, and she quickly escapes flying through the wall.

<Well. That happened. And I thought you Egyptians were dull! You’re full of… surprises?> Hermes says, watching the jackal change his shape. Not only he takes a humanoid form, but there are mechanical parts growing out of his flesh. And since he hasn’t fully recovered from his captivity or from the Eden’s attack, he can’t prevent the weird jackal cyber-god in front of him to grab him by the throat and lift him off the ground.

<Hermes. The god of running away. What vermin have you unleashed upon my galaxy?>

<Anubis, buddy! It’s been so long, how have you been? You work with Nephthys now?>

<She is my mother. Or she was, until your meddling caused her death.>

<My meddling? Well, I pride myself as a master in meddling, yes, but I would hardly say…>

<Your service is appreciated. You may live, for the moment.> Anubis interrupts him, throwing him against the wall. Hermes doesn’t know him well, but he knows his reputation: he’s bad news, and not in a fun way.

<She was holding me back. Now, with her gone and the Eden assimilating all organic life in my galaxy, my undead legions will finally have the chance to rise.>

<Well that’s, ehm, nice. Good for you, Anubis. Be sure to write me when you’re done with that!>

<You are not going anywhere, Greek. You will stand by my side, serving as my general.>

<That’s a generous offer, but me and uniforms? We don’t match. I mean, who would ever want to cover this glorious body with… what is this?> Hermes asks, looking down at his perfectly sculpted abs: there are mechanical tendrils moving beneath his skin, growing from his neck down.

<I have no use for your silver tongue. Cease your prattling or I will remove it. Are we clear?>

<Crystal.> Hermes answers, feeling his body burning from the inside: there’s no doubt in his mind that, if this ended in a fight, Anubis would completely trash him.

“At least we’re done with Nephthys and, most importantly, those stupid snakes.” he thinks.

 

390 light years from the center of the Olympian Galaxy

The nebula once called the Gorgon’s Veil is long gone, blown away by multiple supernovas.

Once Null separated Nephthys from Apophis, the energy of the cosmic serpent was dissipated by the power of Apollo. The only remains are the scattered dead bodies of the snakes that used to form the planetoid briefly used by Nephthys as her throne: with her gone, they don’t generate a decent gravitational field. But some of them are still moving.

There’s almost no energy left in them, but that isn’t a problem. Apophis has been dead for a million years, but its body is still able to absorb starlight to sustain itself. That wouldn’t mean anything without a mind to control the power it devours; but while Nephthys is no longer controlling it, the dead body of the Great Serpent is still possessed by a dark force.

Hundreds of thousands of snakes slowly converge towards a black cloud, a shadow of a goddess that managed to survive the war without anyone noticing.

Nobody else could do this. Nobody else has this much experience being a disembodied force possessing one body after another. Nobody has so much drive to risk annihilation to taste power.

It’s a tiny fraction of what Apophis once possessed, or even of what Nephthys commanded. But the goddess reforming her body can feel that she’s already more powerful than she’s ever been.

<This has potential.> Eris tells herself, alive once again and already absorbing starlight.

 

Cape Town, South Africa

Daren Bekker is making dinner in his kitchen, still using only one hand for everything. Noriko’s technology may have re-grown the left hand he had lost, but it will take a long time to get used to not being an amputee anymore. It will take an equally long time to grow accustomed to having someone teleport into his house.

<Sorry I’m late. I couldn’t talk Kari out of a long distance video chat to show me her kids.> Noriko says, taking off her green leather jacket and throwing it on the nearest coat hanger.

<Don’t worry about it. You know, you didn’t have to come all the way here, we could’ve had our date anywhere in the world.>

<I know, I know. But it’s nice to be somewhere quiet every once in a while… especially lately.>

<Everything okay? You look like you’ve had a rough week.>

<You could say that.>

<Do you want to talk about it? >

<Well, I’ve been in a war, I built a new fleet and an army of robot wolves, I’ve killed three gods, one with a black hole, I broke one of the Keys of Heaven, I’ve acquired a second one that I gave to Hell, there’s an alien hive mind that wants my head to take over the universe or something, let’s see, what else? Ah, yes, it turns out I have brain tumor. All in all, nothing too crazy. How was your week?>