Wrath "Rise of the Fallen"

The three brothers arrived at the foot of Mount Olympus to find their home swarming with demons. This time, without hesitation, Poseidon tapped out an elaborate beat on the ground with his trident, his tattoos shimmering in time with the rhythm. Poseidon to a long step, leapt into the air and pounded the butt of the trident’s staff into the ground. Wavering silver lines of energy shot outward from the point of contact. Birds puffed into the air, and two deer burst from the foliage to scamper off with panic in their eyes.

The ground began to tremble. Then shiver. A low rumbling swelled up from the earth. All around them, trees began to sway wildly. Zeus tracked the quake as it rolled up the mountain, growing steadily more violent.

“Why are we not shaking?” Hades asked.

“Because I’m a god!” Poseidon snapped. “Or something.” Then they were moving, but in a smooth fashion as the land beneath them seemed to be flowing forward. The Lord of the Seas and his brothers moved along a precise ribbon between two stormy oceans that were not oceans but land liquefying under the ferocious jolting. Trees fell and plumes of dust geysered skyward. Scores of demons vanished into gaping cracks that were once secret paths leading to Olympus’ main gates.

“How do they know the ways to Olympus?” Zeus wondered aloud.

Hades shook his head. “I have not felt so… out of control,” he said quietly.

As they left the trees behind and flowed toward Olympus’ main gates, Zeus whispered, “They’ve breached the gates.” He looked at his brothers with electricity crackling in his eyes and fists wrapped in gauntlets of lightning. “How?”

So many demons squeezed through the open gates that they had jammed the way and seemed to be climbing over each other berserker style to gain entrance. Scores more streamed up steep bare rock in search of other ways through the ramparts. Here and there, demons tumbled away under the spasms and vibrations of the quake. With a tremendous shattering sound, a massive sliver of mountainside broke free and slid away, exposing a portion of the palace’s deep foundation. Like the stone blade of some ancient hunter, the sliver cut a huge swath through the advancing demons and skidded down into the trees with a thunderous crash as it knifed down the mountainside.

“Well played, brother,” Hades said as the low rumbling and shuddering began to subside. “Now it’s my turn.” Above his winged helm, the spiritual fire burned bright and died off with a puff of smoke and ash. It reappeared on his staff forks with a flash and danced along the edge like a crazed serpent. He sprinted toward the gates, Poseidon’s moving land adding to the Lord of the Underworld’s speed. On the backswing of the staff, the green flame shriveled into something inky and foul. Hades snapped the staff at the horde. The darkness flew free of the forks and bloomed like some monstrous flower to engulf dozens of demons clamoring to get through the gates.

The creatures fought wildly as if ensnared in a living web, and then seemed to melt. Hades looked back at Zeus, clearly surprised at the result. “Let’s go!” he said with a shrug, moving toward the now unblocked gateway.

Free of demons maybe, but not of their remains. If that’s what they could be called. “What is this?” Poseidon wanted to know, a look of profound distaste twisting his features. “It stinks. What did you do, Hades?”

“Pestilence,” Hades said. “I think. Accelerated disease. I called on my Grace.” He shook his head and his spiritual fire whickered, sending delicate tendrils of smoke and ash whirling off his helm. “We have always been powerful beings. But now… there is much to learn.”

The brothers mucked through a black pool of goo that trailed off their sandals in sticky strands and stretched far inside the walls of Olympus. “Though not exactly what I’d call full of grace,” Poseidon muttered. Hades laughed bitterly as his staff began flickering again with green fire.

Zeus heard the volley of arrows before he saw them hurtling across a courtyard littered with the bodies of Olympus servants darkening the air like a swarm of locusts. He lashed his hands out before him, casting a net of lightning that caught the arrows and burned them to ash. He turned to Poseidon and Hades, lightning-wrapped fists clenched, and snarled, “Let’s clean house.”