A cloud of dust billowed outward as Sorin landed at the base of the desolate mountain. Dry blades of grass shattered from the impact, creating an off-green blizzard that made it impossible to see more than a few tens of feet in any direction. Three corpses lay before him. One was rotten, one was fresh. The third crumbled to dust as its bones collapsed under the weight of countless millennia.

  These three corpses were the first of many Sorin encountered as he climbed the mountain with nothing more than his instincts telling him that any other way but forward would spell his doom.

  Souls danced as Sorin waltzed among the dead. Some—the foolish ones—chose to rush Sorin with the obvious intent of possessing him. These unlucky souls shattered as they encountered their Nemesis, transforming into clouds of easily digestible smoke that the wiser and more patient spirits behind them breathed in for sustenance.

  Similar scenes marked the first few miles of Sorin’s journey. Time passed by, but sometimes, Sorin had the distinct feeling of passing it back.

  Round and round the mountain Sorin went, passing long-forgotten ruins, decaying armies, and decrepit siege weapons. The golden sun and silver moon shining beneath the divine mountain dipped in and out of Nyx to mark Pandora’s mortal days.

  The river of souls was present on Mount Olympus as well. He saw it, now and again, winding in and out of the time-twisting fog that obscured the holy mountain, bringing about visions of times long past and futures that might never manifest.

  A gentle woman with green skin nursed a dove to health using the pristine waters of the mountain’s free-flowing spring.

  A joyful man pranced around in drunken stupor uttering blasphemous words he could scarcely remember.

  A hardworking smith cursed as he hammered red-hot metal on an anvil of abyssal steel. A burning wheel was slowly taking shape. Only a few centuries more and the wheel would make a fine replacement for the broken wheel on Helios’s chariot.

  They were clearly visions of the past, yet they gripped Sorin tightly as waded through the mountain’s temporal waves. Fortunately, Nemesis was a broad-spectrum poison that affected even time itself. Threads of causality failed to drag Sorin down into the raging undercurrents.

  A few more visions tried their luck before pulling away entirely. The fog of the past cleared, revealing a confusing number of pathways leading up to the peak of Mount Olympus.

  These pathways, Sorin realized, were possible futures for Pandora. Most of them ended abruptly, but three led all the way up to the top of the mountain where a golden box was on display.

  While a cursory inspection revealed that he could indeed make it to the top of the mountain walking one of these paths, Sorin chose to blaze his own trail. Violent waves of power threatened Sorin as he walked off the well-trodden paths.

  Sorin’s authority cleaved through laws. It slipped around karma and negated all curses.

  Similarly, it drew no support from pandora’s laws. It could not anchor itself, and neither could it draw support from blessings.

  A black pathway appeared behind Sorin. Unlike the others, it was a path no other man could tread.

  Nemesis was a path for the lonely and unappreciated.

  Having failed to deter Sorin, the mountain changed tact. A light flashed before Sorin’s eyes to reveal three plausible futures.

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  In the first future, Sorin stood tall among the Eight Evils. On his head lay a tarnished gold crown marking him as the Ninth Evil, their king. The people of Pandora prostrated themselves before the nine as they brought order through chaos.

  In the second, two kings sat atop a single throne. Life had returned to the divine paradise, and Sorin was but one of many deities that oversaw the vital functions of Pandora. The world was healing, and war had all but ceased. All it cost them was their freedom.

  The third vision was very different than the first two. The mountain was gone. The world was gone. A golden box lay broken atop the ruins of reality. It was a beginning just as it was an end.

  When Sorin finally stepped out of these alternate futures, he found himself halfway up the mountain. Eight corpses lay skewered at the edge of a cliff. Rivers of blood dribbled out from what had once been the Eight Evils.

  “Come. We’ve been waiting for you.” A musical voice beckoned from the peak, infusing Sorin with a desperate to climb the mountain on all fours.

  A wave of Nemesis Authority blasted that urge apart. Sorin placed one firm foot after another and continued down his lonely path. Three other paths twisted to intercept him, but Sorin’s presence repelled them. He would not be swayed.

  What felt like decades passed Sorin by. He could barely remember his mortal life when he arrived at the peak where three distinct beings were locked in battle.

  One was kindly and beneficent. Another was ancient and merciless. A third sought to mediate between these two forces. Despite its best efforts, the former two refused to submit.

  The three forces had reached a balance long ago, but Sorin’s appearance destroyed all semblance of order. Sorin did not enforce any specific rules or laws, but his mere presence created a dead zone. A sliver of void was enforced around Sorin that extended towards the altar where a golden box lay.

  “Greetings, Sorin Abberjay Kepler.” The speaker was none other than Madeline, a blended being consisting of Poseidon and Hope. Their presence was all-encompassing, a gentle force intent on nurturing all in existence.

  “Took you long enough,” grunted a man wearing a black and white suit. His hair was white, and his eyes were an icy blue. His appearance was closer to Zeus’s, but in those eyes, Sorin saw the unmistakable presence of Hades. “Please pay no attention to my earlier outburst. Though karma has been severed, much bitterness still exists.”

  Sorin had never met the third individual before, but his identity was unmistakable. If the sigil on his archaic armor and his broken crown were insufficient, the temporal wrongness Sorin felt on the man could not be produced by any other individual.

  “When Pandora’s Box insisted that we wait for the final contestant, I expected a familiar face,” growled Chronos. “Yet instead, all I see is a petulant child that’s stubbornly refused the realm’s blessing. What a waste of time.”

  “Peace, Father,” said Madeline.

  “Who’s your father, half breed?” barked Chronos. “You’re little better than a homunculus. If not for the potent Authority you bear, I wouldn’t give you a second glance.”

  “You wouldn’t give any of us a second glance if you could help it,” said the man in a black and white suit.

  “Apologies, but what should I call you?” Sorin couldn’t help but ask him.

  “My identity has fluctuated throughout the ages, even more so once my being was split,” answered the man. “The beginning, I was known as Zeus, and in the end, I will be known as Hades. You may call me either, for I have always been a single being.”

  “Hades, then,” said Sorin. “It seems I was wrong to accuse you two of collusion. You were clearly just working for yourself. You said something about waiting for me?”

  “We weren’t waiting,” corrected Chronos. “It’s that blasted box that wanted more options.” He chuckled darkly. “Good thing for Zeus, too. His authorities are contradictory, and he was starting to have trouble controlling his unified form.”

  “A single moment of stability is all I require,” said Zeus cheerfully. “Besides, let’s not pretend that any of us are stable. That old armor’s the only thing keeping you together. Madeline is on the verge of collapse, while Sorin here is on the verge of exile form the realm.”

  Sorin had thought it odd that Pandora’s suppression had faded somewhat, but if Pandora’s Box was responsible, it all made sense. “For a supposed realm treasure, Pandora’s Box has a lot of trouble making up its mind. Does it want me to stay, or does it want me to leave?”

  “Alas, the realm is not what it once was,” explained Madeline.

  Sorin frowned as he finally took a closer look at the tarnished gold box. Its runes were faded, and cracks had appeared on its surface. “The realm treasure is on the verge of shattering. Its energy stores are insufficient.”

  “Which is what I’ve been trying to tell these two all along,” said Chronos with no small amount of irritation. “Pandora is dying. And to save it, we must first destroy it.”