The Pit of Tartarus – Hours After Typhon's Fall
The darkness of Tartarus curled and pulsed like a wounded beast. The air was heavier than usual, like something massive had screamed and the echo never left.
Then—
A new pulse.
A golden portal twisted open.
Through it stepped Hera.
Her robes glowed faintly, her sandals barely touched the scorched stone floor. Behind her floated the massive, charred corpse of Typhon, twisted and broken—what was left of him after Zeus's final storm. Blood still oozed from the shattered ribs. Black ichor dripped from the limp serpent heads.
Hera's expression was unreadable. Calm. Maybe too calm.
She stood still for a moment, letting the silence throb around her like a drumbeat. Then—without flinching—she raised one hand.
Typhon's corpse slammed to the floor of Tartarus like thunder striking the spine of the underworld.
It echoed everywhere.
Then, slowly, she said:
"I brought this to you. Courtesy of Zeus."
