The Nameless Heir
Chapter 77: We Are One

Chapter 77: We Are One

He told her everything—how he beat Hermes to the ground, his meeting with Hercules, how he declared war on Olympus.

She wasn’t upset about what he did—rather, she was proud. They both broke into laughter, while making fun of the gods. They were the very definition of the perfect phrase—like mother, like son.

She had once defied the will of the gods. Walked away from Olympus. Chose the Underworld—not because she had to, but because she wanted to.

And now... Kael had done the same.

But in the end, he found himself back in a place not so different from where his first life began.

He once left a place called Hell. He thought he could outrun what was forced upon him—the responsibility, the weight. He thought distance would make it easier to carry. But it didn’t. And in the end, he was cursed by the god, and now he’s right back where he started it.

But in the end, he was forced to come back.

Not as a duty.

But because it was his.

Because it was the only way... to save her.

Because no matter how far he ran, no matter how hard he tried to carve out a different path... this place was his.

His past.

His burden.

His kingdom.

This wasn’t just where Kael ended up. It was where he was always meant to be.

Her eyes shimmered.

Not just with joy, but something more explosive, something deep, ancient, and fierce.

Like she was holding back centuries of pride, and this... this was her proudest moment.

Then she stepped forward and pulled him into a hug—tight. Bone-crushing tight.

CRACK

He swore he felt a rib crack as she lifted off the ground, arms locked around him like a vice.

"Mother—" he managed, voice strained against her shoulder, "I can’t breathe."

He never knew how strong his mother was.

She was a monster.

She hugged him even tighter... then started swinging him around like he was weightless.

"Aww," she said, her voice warm, threaded with something almost proud.

A little too excited, even—like she’d been waiting for this moment a long time.

"Does this mean you’re finally taking over the Underworld?"

She let out a laugh—sharp and sudden, like the sound had been waiting to escape her for centuries. Then hugged him even tighter, just to prove a point.

Kael groaned, but he was happy to see his mother smiling again—for the first time since his father passed.

"Gods, you are a monster."

"You turned out strong, didn’t you?" she said, smiling down at him.

"You’ve got a point," he grunted. "Now let me go—we’ve got work to do."

She paused, holding him just a little longer—like she’d forgotten how long it had been since she last did that.

"Fine. But only because you said it nicely."

She finally let go, but not before punishing his cheeks like he was a child—but it was mixed with affection, warning.

Then she turned to Liz, eyes steady with something unspoken, and Liz tensed up without meaning to, because deep down, she knew what was coming. But she shut her eyes and let it happen. It’s not like you say no to a goddess.

But Persephone just smiled and pulled her into a hug. Gentle. The kind that said welcome without needing words.

Kael watched them but didn’t let himself get pulled in. As much as he liked seeing them like this—smiling, laughing, letting that rare warmth fill the room—he hadn’t come here to feel better.

It wasn’t why he came.

So he stepped in. His tone shifted, lower now. More grounded.

"Mother..." he said, voice quiet but firm.

"Can I talk to you in private?"

His voice wasn’t loud, but it was clear enough that his mother understood it was something important.

He and Persephone walked into another room.

There, behind closed doors, he told her everything he remembered.

Everything the old man had shown him.

He told her about the timelines. How each one was different, with a different version of him. But no matter what life he lived, it always ended the same.

Then he told her the part that hurt the most.

How he and Liz had died—again and again.

Killed by the same person.

His old friend.

Both Liz and he are cursed to meet. To fall in love. And in the end... she always watched him die.

And every time, she would also die next to him.

He shook his head.

"Does she know?" she asked.

"Kinda. But she had a dream about it. Which is the start."

He lowered his gaze, then flicked back up, feeling somewhat uncertain.

"I think she’s started to suspect something," he said. "But maybe it just takes one more push."

He paused. He bit down hard, holding the words back.

"And honestly... I hope that push never comes."

He exhaled through gritted teeth, slow and quiet. He tried to calm himself down, but it didn’t help. Not even a little.

"When I remembered it..."

His voice dropped, like he was trying to hold something down.

"I felt all the pain at once. Every version of me... all at once."

He clutched his fingers at his side, squeezing them tightly, like he was trying to hold something in. But even thinking about it made his chest throb—sharp, like the pain had made a home there.

"I think the worst pain..." he said, barely above a whisper. His eyes didn’t focus on anything.

"It wasn’t me dying. It was watching her die. Over and over again."

He gripped his chest tight, like he was trying to pull the pain out. But nothing.

"The pain of watching her die... while I lay there, completely useless."

She pulled him into a hug, tighter than before. Like she could squeeze the memory out of him. But it was the kind of pain that he didn’t want to forget—because that’s what drives him to become strong.

He didn’t resist, though. He let her hold him. It was nice, warm, comforting.

Then, quietly, he spoke.

"Don’t worry, Mother."

A small, somewhat bitter smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"This time will be different. I’ve got time now. I’ll be ready."

She pulled back just enough to look at him. Her expression softened, brows drawn together.

"Then tell me how I can help."

He let out a short breath, a mix between a laugh and a sigh.

"You?" He smirked, trying to brighten the mood.

"Just sit on the throne, look terrifyingly beautiful, and let me do the dirty work."

She gasped, placing a hand over her heart, while getting teary-eyed.

"Oh! I never thought I’d live to see the day you’d take over the throne..."

She sniffled dramatically, dabbing at her eyes like a theater queen.

Kael rolled his eyes with a smile. "Gods... you’re worse than the Fates."

They both started laughing.

"You know, Liz," Kael called out, a grin on his face, "you can’t hear much through the door. Just come in."

The door creaked open.

Liz stepped through the door, slow and quiet. She had her head low. She didn’t say anything. She just stood there looking guilty, like someone who knew they’d been caught.

Kael smirked. "Since you’re here... time for Plan A."

Without missing a beat, he turned and walked out of the room. He pulled her close.

They stood together by the balcony, the sky above them red mixed with black. Liz glanced at Kael—and when their eyes met, she smiled, just a little.

He looked at her. "We’ve got some work to do today," he muttered.

She looked at him. Her eyes didn’t quite meet his, and her voice came out low.

"They’re coming for me... aren’t they?"

There was guilt there, even if she didn’t name it.

Kael didn’t answer right away. He exhaled through his nose, slow, as if the weight of it didn’t surprise him.

"Ahh, so you heard it."

A faint smirk played at the corner of his mouth—but there was no humor in it.

"Well... not you," he said, lifting his hand. "But this."

He pulled out the ring—the useless one the demon king gave him—and let it hang from his fingers. Heavy. Cold. A useless ring.

"What is it?" she asked, while sharpening her gaze, the suspicion in her voice no longer hiding.

Kael stared at the ring for a long second, trying to come up with a story. Deep down, he knew this ring was useless. Then it hit him.

"It completes the ritual," he muttered. "They need this... and me."

He paused. He is horrible at lying, especially to her.

"That’s why Aria gave me this—just before leaving. Just in case she got captured."

He bit down hard, trying to make the story convincing, since he heard the story about how they were looking for Aria.

"They won’t be able to get the ring."

He looked up at her, eyes cold. Trying to sound as serious as he could.

"Since we were with her... they’ll come for it here."

She looked at him like he was making it up.

And she was right—he was.

But he didn’t flinch. He didn’t need her to believe him fully. Just enough...

Enough so she wouldn’t start asking the wrong questions.

"But it also needs the blood of a powerful god," he said, flashing a smile—one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

"Which is me." He smiled while pointing at himself. "I mean, it doesn’t have to be me, but they want revenge for us ruining their plan and killing their people."

He let the moment stretch, then leaned in slightly and pinched her nose.

"But to get to me... they will come for you, maybe."

His voice dropped, low and calm.

"But the chances they’re coming for you... is very high."

"What does it do?"

Her suspicion sharpened, voice cutting in with growing intensity.

"Aria didn’t say much..." he said quickly, eyes flicking away for a second.

"Except—they’ll become gods."

In his mind, he begged her to believe him.

Even put emotion into it—forced just enough weight into his voice to make it feel real.

She stared at him, hard. That look again.

The one she always gave him when she knew he was lying.

Angry. Focused. Quiet.

She knew.

She always knew.

But maybe—just this once—she couldn’t bring herself to say it.

Maybe she saw how distressed he was.

So instead of calling him out... she pushed it away.

Let him lie.

For now.

Kael stood still, his eyes locked on her. He held her hands. He realized he had to break this curse—he was going to make sure she lives.

Even if that means he doesn’t.

He took out the ring he gave her before and started to chant:

"She is the light, and I am the dark.

She is the sun that warms my mark.

Without her, I feel lost—no path, no sound,

Just endless dusk, no solid ground.

She is the chain that keeps me bound.

Break her... and I am set free.

But what walks then—will not be me.

Yet now, we share one beating heart.

No god, no blade, can pull us apart.

By shadow’s vow, by fire’s flame—

She lives as mine, in soul and name."

Slowly, the shadows began to bind them together. Her body shimmered faintly. Nothing too dramatic—just enough to notice. Her red hair now carried streaks of black, like an eclipse had touched it.

And now, she was bound.