Chapter 215: Chapter 59
The silence inside Hera’s temple was deafening, broken only by the sound of her ragged breaths as she clutched her chest and curled against her silken sheets.
Her body trembled violently, not from weakness, but from the unbearable tearing sensation deep within her soul.
The divine authority she bore, the sacred weight of marriage, of fidelity, of bonds unbreakable, recoiled and lashed against her like a beast denied its rightful mate.
Her temple walls shivered with every pulse of her collapsing aura, the marble cracking, golden ornaments rattling and falling to the floor.
Her nails dug into her own flesh, drawing golden ichor, as if pain might somehow anchor her spinning heart.
She whispered in a hoarse voice, again and again, "No... he wouldn’t... he wouldn’t..." as if the repetition could undo reality.
Yet the truth pressed on her like a mountain. The whispers of the underworld were not false.
Hades had indeed spent the night in Aphrodite’s arms.
At first, she tried to deny it. How could he, the cold, aloof Hades who had never shown warmth to anyone, allow that shallow goddess of desire to hold him?
How could he, who turned away suitors, who drowned himself in endless labor, suddenly... suddenly give in to someone like her?
But the confirmation came, undeniable, from her own loyal spirits.
They saw him enter the temple, they have asked the spirits in Aphrodite’s temple, and they knew what really happened.
The moment truth sank into her heart, her divinity screamed.
Hera’s godhood was not of war or storms, not of flame or destruction.
It was of marriage, vows, unity, and sanctity. It was an authority that did not tolerate betrayal.
And now, though she was not yet wed to him, she had already bound herself to Hades in her heart, her authority had already recognized him as her chosen husband.
Her divine essence had interwoven with his, giving her glimpses of his power, allowing her to borrow fragments of his authority when needed.
It was already decided, at least by her domain, that she belonged to him.
So when that same man embraced another, her domain cracked. Her authority revolted. Her soul burned as if it was being branded with betrayal.
She gasped, every breath like fire crawling up her throat, her body twisting as the sheets tore beneath her fists.
She could feel her very divinity, the eternal force that made her who she was, trembling on the edge of collapse.
It was as though the concept of marriage itself mocked her, whispering cruelly that she had failed, that her chosen bond was shattered before it was ever formally sealed.
Her tears fell, hot and golden, staining her pillow as she bit her lip hard enough to draw blood.
"Why... why her...?" she whispered bitterly.
Aphrodite, the goddess who likes to toy with countless men and women alike, who knew nothing of commitment, who believed that love can be found in fleeting passion, who mocked the sanctity of vows with her domain.
How could Hades choose her over Hera, whose very being was devoted to loyalty, to eternity, to the unshakable unity of souls?
Her heart felt like it was being split in two, her pride as the goddess of marriage humiliated, her body trembling with the raw ache of rejection.
Even her temple reflected her anguish: statues cracked, divine fire flickered low, the sacred aura of harmony and stability collapsed into suffocating despair.
Her servants, divine spirits she had promoted, cowered outside the chamber doors, too terrified to enter, feeling the waves of their goddess’s agony roll through the air like thunder.
In her mind, one truth seared itself cruelly: Hades, the man she had chosen, the man her divinity recognized, had not chosen her.
He had turned his heart, his touch, his soul, to another. And because of that, her entire domain felt as though it were crumbling to ash.
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Hecate sat alone in the grand, dim-lit hall of her temple, the faint glow of countless torches flickering against the black stone walls.
"...Is that so?" She whispered.
Her disciple, Medea, stood behind her, reporting the words flying outside of how Hades had spent the night with Aphrodite.
Hecate sighed, "I want to be alone for now."
"As you wish, milady." Medea bowed.
The silence pressed heavily around Hecate, broken only by the echo of Medea’s departing footsteps.
When the last sound faded, Hecate let out a long, trembling breath.
She had kept her composure, her voice calm, her expression cold when her disciple had delivered the news.
She had even managed a small nod, a soft hum, as if it was nothing more than a report of border patrols or wandering spirits.
But now, with no one watching, her hands shook, her lips trembled, and her eyes, usually so sharp and steady, filled with tears that refused to stop falling.
She pressed her palm against her chest, over the aching throb of her divine heart.
"Why...?" she whispered, her voice breaking as the word escaped her. "Why her? Why not me...?"
Her mind drifted, unbidden, to the very first moment she had met him.
She could recall it with such clarity it was as though it happened yesterday.
Hades, bearing the mission from Gaia, had come to free the Cyclopes from their eternal chains, securing allies who would forge the weapons of gods.
It had been she, Hecate, who stood at the threshold of the underworld, the first to greet him in that silent, forgotten realm.
She remembered how his eyes had been cold, unreadable, his presence heavy with loneliness.
All others had feared him then, whispering that he was the most distant, the most terrifying of the brothers.
But she had not feared him.
She had bowed her head, welcomed him, guided him, and offered her torchlight to banish the suffocating gloom of the abyss that even gods dreaded to tread.
From that moment on, she had been at his side.
Not as a lover, not even as an equal, but as a companion who never once wavered.
Through the endless centuries of silence and duty, through wars with monsters, rebellions of spirits, and invasions of titans, she had stood by him.
She remembered standing behind him as he passed judgment over the souls of kings and beggars alike, remembered following him into the deepest pits of Tartarus where no light could reach, remembered the quiet moments when the two of them would sit at the edge of the black rivers, speaking little, but sharing the comfort of silence.
She had thought, foolishly perhaps, that her loyalty, her constancy, her devotion without demand, would mean something.
She had never asked for his love, never demanded his attention. She had only wanted to be near him, to support him, to serve in whatever way he allowed.
And yet, even without asking, her heart had slowly, inexorably bound itself to him.
She realized one day that his coldness no longer chilled her, that his indifference no longer cut her, that she loved him quietly, fully, hopelessly.
And now... now he had chosen Aphrodite.
Aphrodite, who enjoyed making men fall in love her only to abandon them, who had cruelly broken loving couples just because they dared ignore her words.
Aphrodite, who had mocked the bonds of love countless times, who had turned vows into games, who had twisted devotion into fleeting passions.
Aphrodite, the dumb goddess who only know how to act spoiled and cling on Hades.
Hecate closed her eyes, her tears spilling faster, hot against her pale cheeks.
"Was I not enough...?" she whispered again. "All those centuries... all those battles... all those nights when it was only me beside him... Did it mean nothing...?"
Her hands clenched, her nails digging into her skin until ichor welled. She shook her head, her hair falling around her face.
She could not understand. She had been his shadow, his torch in darkness, his most loyal ally.
She had never betrayed him, never wavered, never once turned her eyes from him. Was that not love? Was that not devotion? Then why... why did he not see her? Why could he not choose her?
Her heart throbbed painfully, an ache she could not suppress. The goddess of magic and crossroads, who had stood unmoved by giants, titans, and even primordial gods, now found herself undone by a single truth:
The man she loved had given himself to another.