The air around the veil curled and hissed as Anubis stepped through, violet threads dancing behind her in slow, deliberate spirals. It wasn't a flash of power or an explosion of divine majesty.
It was a whisper—quiet, absolute, terrifying in its calm.
The veil closed behind her like breath returning to the lungs of the dead.
She had returned to Hades.
To her real home, a place she thinks she belongs.
It was a place where her name was burned into stone and her fate no longer asked for permission.
Behind her, Uriel followed, still adjusting to the shift in pressure. The mortal world fell away like a forgotten dream, and the true nature of the realm hit him like gravity in his chest. His newly transformed soul trembled at the edge of something it couldn't fully comprehend.
The ground beneath them pulsed.
Black obsidian bled with cracks of molten gold, like veins of a slumbering god. The sky overhead was no sky at all, but a churning ceiling of ash and emberlight—hellfire clouds woven with whispers.
Uriel stopped walking. "Is it always like this?"
Anubis didn't slow. "Only when it recognizes power."
A wide bridge stretched out ahead of them—suspended over a bottomless chasm that breathed heat like a living thing. On the other side, the spires of Hades clawed up from the deep like jagged teeth. Obsidian towers. Lava-fed fortresses. Walls made of chain-bound bones. A city built on punishment, power, and rule.
But she didn't fear it.
They crossed the bridge in silence. Uriel walked behind her like a knight at the heel of a queen, even if he didn't know it yet. He was just a demon after all.
"Let me ask you one thing," Anubis said as they halted.
"Go ahead, my Lord," Uriel replied.
"Why do you choose to follow me?" She asked him. "You seem practically excited about it."
Uriel tried to laugh but after glancing at Anubis and realizing that nothing was funny, he stopped.
"Truly," he began. "Before, I was a mere human trying my best to become strong but even with all the efforts, nothing is working and I do not see myself getting any stronger than I was. But that was until you came into my life and made me what I am today. Ever since that day, I have felt that something has greatly changed in my life. I have not only become stronger but a better version of myself. I owe you my life, my soul, and my body. Whatever you want me to do, I will do it willingly, wherever you go, I'll follow you."
"What if I want you to die for me?" Anubis asked and raised her brows.
"My life is yours. I am willing to do it a thousand times if required," Uriel replied.
Anubis didn't show any emotion that moment but as she turned to continue walking, a smile flashed on her lips. A genuine smile.
---
At the base of the highstone gate, where magma pooled in ornate runic trenches, the Guardians of the Seven Arches awaited them.
Seven towering statues stood in formation—each one a carved effigy representing the Seven Sins. They were not just stone. They watched. They listened.
As Anubis approached, the statues began to move. Their stone mouths opened with a slow grind. Runic fire poured from their lips, inscribing a circle of permission into the air.
Then, they spoke—one voice from seven mouths.
"Who returns to the Underflame?"
"Anubis," she answered, steady.
The runes flared. The gate split with a hiss.
The realm opened to her.
Uriel looked up at the doors as they groaned inward. "My Lord, you weren't lying."
"No one lies to the Underflame," she replied. "It burns truth and nothing less."
They stepped inside.
The full expanse of Hades swallowed them in flame, stone, and shadow. The black rivers pulsed with the screams of lost souls—less tortured, more transformed. This wasn't hell as mortals feared it.
This was a kingdom. An empire of strength born from breaking.
"Where are we going?" Uriel asked.
"To the central tower," Anubis replied. "To stand before the throne."
"I feel strangely scared," Uriel stepped forward. "Am I going to be fine here?" He asked her.
"No one will touch you," Anubis assured him. "No one touches what's mine."
----
* Throne Hall*
The obsidian streets echoed with their steps. Winged demons passed overhead, their mouths sewn shut. Crawling beasts of ash and rune scattered into alleyways. The citizens of Hades had seen wars. They had served gods and devoured kings.
But as Anubis passed, they bowed. Some dropped to their knees.Others pressed their foreheads to the stone. Not from love but from instinct.
The violet flame in her aura shimmered visibly now, wrapped around her like a living mantle. She no longer needed to raise her hand for obedience. Her existence bent the realm around her like a flame bends air.
Uriel was quiet.
He couldn't find words for what he was seeing.
"You're not like them," he said finally, as they reached the iron stairway to the throne hall.
"I'm not like anyone," she said as she climbed.
The throne hall towered before them like a cathedral of fire and judgment.
Its gates stretched into the gloom above—black iron laced with soulsteel, etched in runes that hadn't been spoken aloud in over a thousand years. A place not built to welcome. A place meant to end lesser things.
Anubis placed her hand on the gate.
The metal hissed beneath her touch and opened without resistance.
Inside, the Throne of Hades waited—massive, jagged, carved of obsidian and infernal bone. Empty. Watching. A monument to power and isolation.
But she was not alone.
Seven figures stood around it in a wide circle.
The Seven Sins.
They turned one by one as she entered—each radiating their own domain like a god carved from concept.
Pride, tall and cold, adorned in white-gold, eyes gleaming like a man who'd never known failure.
Envy, sharp as glass, her green eyes cutting through Anubis with practiced disdain.
Greed, smiling too wide, his fingers twitching as if already measuring her worth.
Lust, crimson-lipped and barefoot, perched lazily on a floating spine of stone, licking blood from her wrist like honey.
Gluttony, broad and slow, devouring a glowing heart pulled from some unseen source, face splattered with black ichor.
Wrath, molten-eyed and crackling with suppressed fury, arms crossed, legs braced like a coiled beast.
And lastly...
Sloth.
Tall and pale. Elegant in a way that made stillness seem like a weapon. Draped in robes that dragged across the ground like mist. She didn't turn fully to face Anubis—just tilted her head, eyes half-lidded, mouth curved in a faint sneer.
She was the only one who didn't speak.
Sloth had never liked her.
Anubis stepped into their circle with Uriel behind her.
A subtle shift passed through the group.
"Welcome back," said Pride, cool and measured. "We felt you breach the veil."
"You tore the mortal realm like a blade through skin," Envy added. "Quite the entrance."
"Messy," Gluttony murmured through a mouthful.
"Delicious," Lust purred.
Anubis stood still. Her violet-gold eyes scanned them like a queen checking pieces on a board. "You all seem surprised."
"Not surprised," Pride said. "Just... curious."
"You weren't expected to survive the Black Forge," Wrath admitted bluntly. "No one has in centuries."
"I didn't survive," Anubis replied, her voice low and level. "I changed."
Silence followed.
It was Sloth who finally spoke.
Her voice was soft. Beautiful. And venomous.
"Changed into what?"
Anubis turned her full gaze on her.
"I don't know yet."
Sloth stepped forward slowly, her every motion graceful and lazy, like a predator with infinite patience. "That's what makes you dangerous. You don't even know what you are. But you've already started playing god."
"I was made to be more than what you expected," Anubis said, evenly.
"You were made to serve," Sloth snapped. "And you're already forgetting your place."
Uriel's jaw tightened behind her.
But Anubis… smiled.
"I didn't forget. I just replaced it."
That earned a soft hiss from Envy.
Sloth narrowed her eyes. "You think you're ready to rule? Or are you here to play at power until it kills you?"
Anubis took one step closer.
"When I kill Yama," she said, "it won't be for the throne. It'll be because he branded me like property. And I don't belong to anyone—not even Zeus."
That made several of them stir. Even Wrath raised an eyebrow.
But Sloth?
She just laughed.
"You're not the flame," she whispered. "You're the spark. And sparks die first."
A sharp tension flooded the room.
But Pride lifted a hand, diffusing the heat before it could ignite.
"Enough," he said. "She has earned the right to stand here. Her power is undeniable."
"She's unstable," Sloth countered. "And that makes her a threat."
"Then keep watching," Anubis said. "You'll either see me burn out—or burn everything else."
She turned, walking toward the throne.
The others parted to let her pass.
Uriel followed in her wake, heart pounding, unsure if he was watching something beautiful or horrifying bloom before his eyes.
Anubis stopped before the throne.
She didn't sit.
Instead, she looked up at the massive seat carved from dominion and sacrifice. She felt it—not just the heat, but the weight of expectation and judgment. The kind of power that pressed on the bones and whispered: take me if you dare.
Uriel stepped beside her.
"Are you going to sit?"
"No."
"Why not?"
Anubis tilted her head, her expression unreadable.
"Because I don't need a throne to rule. Besides, it's not mine to begin with."