Chapter 80: Ch. 80: Hephaestus & The Dove in the Cage (Hermes' POV)

Ch. 80: Hephaestus & The Dove in the Cage (Hermes' POV)

Hephaestus dropped his fourth bottle of vodka, the empty glass thudding against the cold, metal top of the table. His eyes, dark and hollow, drifted to the ceiling, as if there was something up there only he could see. His face, worn and creased from years of anguish, bore the look of a man whose soul had long been crushed under the weight of his own genius. "I didn't tell Talos this, but...

I found her on the battlefield. Hundreds of years after Titanomachy, in the chaos. I was the son whose mother wanted to kill."

I was halfway down my own bottle, the burn of the alcohol numbing my insides. "Sounds painful," I muttered, unsure if my words were enough.

Hephaestus' voice was raspy as he continued, like he hadn't spoken about this in centuries. "What I craved above all else was my mother's— Hera's love. I would have given the world for her to even glance at me, even in contempt." His eyes flicked towards me, I guess he really was that desperate, hard for me to know how he felt though. "But she never did. I think... I think I was cursed.

Cursed with this mind of mine, cursed to create."

His words sent a shiver down my spine. I tipped my bottle back, gulping as if the liquor could wash away the discomfort of hearing him unravel. But he didn't stop. He wasn't done yet.

"I was patrolling the lower rings of the realm, searching for ways to perfect Olympus," he continued, his gaze distant, lost in memories. "That's when I found her. A little girl, drenched in blood, like something out of a nightmare. Her eyes were... empty, like pits. Hollow.

Soulless, like I was back then. I didn't know how she got there, but... I couldn't just leave her to die. Even a monster like me couldn't do that."

His hand reached for another bottle, the cap snapping off as easily as if he were opening a can. He took a deep swig, his throat bobbing as he drank. I didn't dare interrupt, though my stomach twisted with unease.

"I brought her here," Hephaestus said, his voice quieter now. "Back to my home. She was... different from other children. Not noisy, no chaos. Just silence.

Obedient. She did whatever I asked. I thought I could mold her, shape her. I thought I could make her... my perfect child." His lips curled into something resembling a smile, but it wasn't joy. It was regret.

He looked at me, eyes searching mine for something— what, I didn't know. "Have you ever hunted animals in the wild?"

It was such a strange question that I blinked, caught off guard. "No, not really. I'm more of an 'indoor' type, you know what I mean?" I was a city kid so I could not know what he meant to imply.

Hephaestus chuckled bitterly. "That girl... she could hit a target on her first try, like her instincts were wired for survival. Quick, sharp. I thought I was doing her a favor, teaching her how to survive. But I wasn't.

I was keeping her locked up. A bird in a gilded cage."

The room felt colder as he spoke. I shifted in my seat, uncomfortable in the presence of such raw vulnerability. Hephaestus, the god who shaped mountains with his hands, the god who built weapons for Zeus himself, was cracking open before me. That Hades guy said he was some great guy but.... He just looks like a sad man.

"She was never mine to keep," he whispered, the words almost lost in the quiet. "I was never meant to be a father. I only wanted love... and in the process, I turned her into something worse than myself." He laughed then, but there was no humor in it. It was hollow, like the sound of metal scraping against metal. "When she wanted to leave, I tried to stop her.

I thought I could keep her, control her. But she wasn't a tool, not anymore. She was... alive. I saw it in her eyes— the fire. For the first time, I saw that fire.

And I was terrified."

He slammed the bottle down, the sound echoing through the room. His hands were trembling now, shaking with a mix of rage and sorrow. "I forced her to stay," he admitted, his voice breaking. "She fought back. Gods, she fought so hard. I was scared of being alone...

and she was scared of me. I don't know whose fear was worse."

I felt my own throat tighten, the alcohol not strong enough to dull the emotions swirling inside me. I tried to speak, but the words felt thick on my tongue. "You're... you're not a monster," I finally managed to say. But even as the words left my mouth, they sounded hollow. Like a lie.

Hephaestus ignored me, his eyes fixed on the floor. "I hit the anvil to clear my head," he muttered. "I envision my soul as metal, and I hammer at it until I'm sure it's perfect. Until I've beaten out all the impurities. But no matter how much I hammer, I can't fix what's broken inside me."

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of his confession hanging heavy between us. Then, slowly, he looked up at me, his eyes filled with a strange kind of resolve. "Talos is helping you now, isn't she?" he asked.

I nodded. "Yeah. She's... she's helping." Actually I'm more of helping her, not sure what I should do though.

Hephaestus' lips curled into a faint, sad smile. "Good. Maybe that's her way of making up for my mistakes. If she can find her own path, if she can help those she cares about... then maybe there's hope for her after all." Cares about? I don't think she cares about me though.

The silence stretched on for what felt like an eternity. I took another swig of my drink, my thoughts spinning in a million different directions. But there was one question still nagging at the back of my mind.

"You said... you said something earlier," I began, my voice hesitant. "About dying?"

Hephaestus looked at me, his eyes dark and tired. "The curse," he said simply. "It's killing me."

Panic flared in my chest. "Why don't you quit?" I blurted out, the words tumbling from my lips. "Just... stop. Retire! Find some peace!"

He laughed again, the sound sharp and bitter. "There is no peace for me, Hermes. Not anymore. I was creating something... something that could have changed everything. But I gave up."

My heart was pounding in my chest now, the alcohol making my thoughts foggy and sluggish. "Why?" I demanded. "Why did you give up? Why did you make the time machine in the first place?"

Hephaestus was silent for a long moment, so long that I thought he wouldn't answer. But finally, he spoke, his voice low and filled with a pain I couldn't fully understand. "I wanted to see my mother," he whispered. "One last time... before I die."

My heart clenched, the weight of his words pressing down on me. "Why not talk to her now?" I asked, my voice soft, my head heavy with exhaustion and alcohol.

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Hephaestus' face twisted with grief. "Because she's dead, Hermes. Hera's dead."

His words hit me like a punch to the gut, but before I could process them my eyes dimmed shut. A moment later the ground beneath us began to tremble. A low, deep buzzing filled the air, like the crackle of an electrical storm. I stumbled, barely catching myself as the room shook violently.

"What the hell was that?" I slurred, struggling to keep my balance.

I traced the sounds and my eyes widening in horror as I saw Hephaestus standing in front of the time machine, the damn thing roaring to life. Energy crackled around it, the machine humming with a dangerous intensity.

When had he gotten there? How long had I been out for? I thought it didn't work, did that mean he would help miss Talos?

"Hephaestus, stop!" I shouted, but it was too late. The machine emitted a blinding flash of light, and before I could react, an energy wave shot out, engulfing me in its terrifying grasp.

Shit!

My body disintegrated, piece by piece, into nothingness.

Shit!

And then, everything went dark.

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