She is beautiful.

She always was. Hair like silver stars and moonlight, eyes like the sky at dawn. Clear as day.

My mind is twisted.

I hate her.

Don't I?

Seeing her after all this time cracks something inside of me.

Resolve?

But between her and I, are three monsters.

"Who are you?" I shout at the old women, all bones and brittle hair. Withered skin and faded hearts. They are not of this world.

Are any of us?

"It's the Fates, Father," Lark says, in her phoenix form.

My jaw tightens. Is this creature truly the blood of my blood, the flesh of my flesh?

"The Fates?" Hades asks from behind me. As we stand in the small house, we overpower it... but then I realize it isn't just us.

There is so much strength in this room.

If only it was harnessed for the same thing.

Right now, the power the gods and goddesses hold is at odds.

"Yes. The Fates," Tennyson says, her purple hair swishing as she walks toward us, fearlessly. "And you may hate me, but you have it all wrong. I'm beginning to think men usually do," she says with a salty smirk. Her arms cross and she stares down the ruler of the Underworld. "I don't believe we've met," she says, offering him her hand.

It catches him off guard. Lark, Harlow, and Remedy wanted nothing to do with us once they knew who we were... but Tennyson faces Hades without flinching.

She is her father's daughter.

"Tennyson?" Hades asks. Something shifts in the room when he speaks her name. Some of our power seems to diminish as he takes her hand in his.

"Don't, Ten," Lark screams. "Don't trust him. Any of them.They tried to murder us."

Tennyson shakes her head. "I'm not scared of dying."

For the first time in his life, it seems as if my brother has met his match.

Hades looks past her, to Persephone. She's on the ground, her hands on Gaia's face.

"We came to kill Gaia," I remind Hades.

"It's too late for that," Persephone whispers. "It's all too late. Unless the Fates agree to save her. I offered them anything in exchange for her life."

I face the Fates, confused at the women before me. "Clotho?" I ask. "Lachesis, Atropos, is it truly you?"

They cower in the corner. "It is. Just don't... don't kill us..."

I look at the other gods. Poseidon and Ares shake their heads. Don't back down from the plan, they seem to be saying.

But something doesn't add up.

"Why would I kill you?" I ask.

Remedy shifts to human form and scoffs, her vivid red hair swishing as she moves. Her pregnant belly reminds me of her mother the night she conceived.

"You'd kill them because they tricked you. You may be badass gods of Olympus, but you let three witches ruin your life."

"Witches?" Ares asks, the veins in his muscles surging. He is not one for games. "You aren't goddesses?"

Suddenly the Fates begin begging us for forgiveness, but I'm still unclear as to what we're being asked for.

"What the hell is happening?" Poseidon yells. "We're here for Gaia, and she is already dead. Next, the girls."

"You're focused on the wrong fucking thing, Dad!" Harlow screeches. "Stop acting like a fool! You are a god, not a child. Listen to us!"

The room falls silent as she lets out a loud scream, louder than the screech.

Then her water breaks.

Gaia is dead.

Persephone is hysterical.

The Fates are frauds.

The gods are filled with righteous anger. But it is perhaps directed at the wrong person.

And Poseidon is about to become a grandfather.

I may have been a fool, acted like a child. But I am still Zeus. The ruler of Olympus and a god in my own right.

But ever since I walked into this broken-down house I felt a sharp pain in my chest. Like what I believed to be true might not be.

Like something has cracked open. Light has been allowed in.

I look at the Fates as Persephone rushes to her daughter’s side, easing her to a chair as her contractions begin. "What did you do?" I ask the Fates, and even as I say it, I see it all clearly.

The wedding feast. Their toast.

"Now," Clotho said. "Raise your glasses and close your eyes."

We did as she asked, laughing. "The wish is simple; the wish is wise. Love never fails unless it dies."

The Fates killed our love at our wedding feast.

We closed our eyes and sealed the spell.

They say as much to the other gods standing beside me, and I feel the surge of anger rushing toward them.

"There are no strings of life, are there?" Ares asks.

The Fates hang their heads, the truth is plain.

We've been fooled once, but we won't be fooled twice.

"Why?" Poseidon asks. "You know we loved her."

"Loved?" Persephone asks, turning toward us, her hands gripping Harlow's tightly. Her face is streaked with tears, but she looks even more beautiful than the day we met.

"Love,” I say, with all that I am and all that I was. " I love her."

Her chin trembles, her shoulders shake.

Twenty-one years locked in a cage. What kind of god am I to not see the truth sooner?

To let three witches play such wicked games on my mountain?

"Don't kill them," Persephone says in a whisper. Her daughters surround her, so much strength, so much glory. We've missed so much. "Gaia is already gone. That is enough death for one day."

"So, we let them go? Ares asks. "After all they did to us? After all they took from us?"

Persephone shakes her head. "No. They should pay."

The Fates are hysterical in the corner, but none of us pay them any mind.

"I have an idea," she says. "Hades, could we make a deal?"