Kyra stood on the balcony of his private quarters, overlooking the docks where his men toiled. He poured himself a glass of rich, red wine and took a sip, savoring the flavor as he watched the last shipments being loaded onto waiting vessels.

As he raised the glass to his lips once more, a prickle ran down his back. His instints were screaming at him. Someone was behind him.

He turned. Where there had been empty space moments before, a tall figure now stood, shrouded in a dark cloak that seemed to absorb the fading light. Most men would have jumped, shouted for guards, or reached for a weapon. Kyra did none of these things. His face remained calm, betraying no hint of surprise or fear.

"Oh, it's you," he said. "It's been a while, Demosthenes."

The cloaked figure pushed back his hood, revealing a face etched with hard lines and eyes that screamed of ancient wisdom and deep fatigue.

"Indeed, it has been," he replied. "Too long, perhaps."

"Since when did you arrive?"

"I arrived in the city a couple of days ago."

Kyra's eyebrows rose. "That late? You're never late. What happened?"

Demosthenes moved further into the room. "There were... complications. Nothing I couldn't handle, but it slowed me down."

"I see. No matter. You're here now, that's what counts." He gestured to a nearby chair. "Sit. Would you like some wine?"

Demosthenes sat down. "You know I don't drink."

"More for me, then," Kyra said, taking another sip. "I suppose you're wondering why I called you to this gods-forsaken backwater."

"The thought had crossed my mind," Demosthenes admitted. "Selymbria isn't exactly known for its charm. The smell alone is enough to make a man wish he'd never been born."

Kyra chuckled. "You get used to it. Besides, the stench of fish and unwashed bodies is nothing compared to the sweet scent of profit."

"Profit? Since when did you do things out of profit?"

"Why? Don’t you think I can’t enjoy the luxury of what money can bring?"

"No. You’re a diety by nature. You don’t care about money. Never did."

"Oh, hush," Kyra waved his hand. "What do you know about the nature of being a diety? You’ve never lived it."

"That’s true. I’m only half, remember? But still, I know that gods do not understand the concept of what money is. You people simply create and destroy at will. You have powers that transcends the need for material wealth."

"That I would agree. But the influence and power that money can bring, its remarkable. Now, I see why humans would kill to horde this finite resource."

Demosthenes leaned forward. "So, if it's not for profit, what brings me to Selymbria? What requires the attention of a god?"

Kyra set down his wine glass and leaned against the balcony railing. "I have a job for you, old friend. There's someone I need... removed."

"Is that so? Who's the target?"

"An old man. Goes by the name of Drakon. You might have heard of him – they call him 'The Wolf of Sparta'."

"The Wolf of Sparta?" Demosthenes' eyes widened as he recognized the name. He had clashed with him in battle before. "Are you certain about this? That's not someone to underestimate."

"I'm well aware of his reputation. That's why I called you. You're the only one I trust to handle this... delicate matter."

"What's he done to earn your ire?"

"Let's just say he's become an inconvenience. One that needs to be dealt with permanently."

"Permanently, huh?" Demosthenes replied. "You know, it’s ironic that a god of death such as yourself wouldn’t have the guts to do this job by himself. Instead, you use someone like me."

"I know right? Yes, I can do it myself but I’d rather have someone do my job from time to time. Plus, I don’t do menial jobs such as assassinations. I’ve upgraded to large scale wars."

Demosthenes chuckled. "You are one crazy son of a bitch. You know that, right?"

"Oh, yes I do."

Demosthenes leaned back and glanced around before speaking up again. "This won't be cheap."

"When have I ever haggled over price with you? You know I’m good for it. Name your fee, and it's yours. Just make sure the old wolf breathes his last before the next full moon."

The assassin nodded. "Consider it done. But be certain this is what you want. Killing a man like Drakon... there will be consequences."

Kyra turned back to the balcony, gazing out at the darkening sky. "There are always consequences. The trick is making sure they fall on someone else's head."

He drained the last of his wine, the empty glass clinking against the table as he set it down. He eased back into his chair, the wood creaking under his weight. A heavy sigh escaped his lips as if seeing something far beyond the confines of the room.

"How's your wife?"

The question hung in the air, unexpected and out of place in the midst of their earlier talk of assassination and profit.

Demosthenes' brow furrowed, his eyes narrowing as he studied Kyra's face. "My wife? Why the sudden interest in my personal life?"

"No particular reason," Kyra shrugged. "Just curious about her status, that's all."

There was a long pause, the silence broken only by the muffled sounds of the port below.

"You should know. She's dead."

"I thought as much," Kyra nodded. "I felt her soul reach out to me, you know. It was... unsettling."

Demosthenes' jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "What game are you playing, Kyra? You've never given a damn about my wife before."

"No game. Just tying up loose ends. Tell me, did you ever manage to retrieve her necklace?"

"I found the bastard who stole it, if that's what you're asking. But the story doesn't end there."

"Oh?" Kyra leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "Do tell."

Demosthenes paced the length of the room. "I tracked the thief to a tavern here. Had him cornered, the necklace in my grasp. And then..." He trailed off, shaking his head in frustration.

"And then?"

"Two young idiots decided to play heist," Demosthenes spat. "A boy and a girl, both in their late teens. They made off with the necklace themselves."

"How unfortunate. I wouldn't have expected you to let a couple of kids get the better of you."

"They got lucky, nothing more. I'll find them, and when I do..."

"When you do, you'll what?" Kyra asked. "Kill them? Over a necklace?"

"It's not about the damn necklace!" Demosthenes shouted. "It was hers. The last thing I had of her. And now it's gone, in the hands of some snot-nosed brats who have no idea what it means."

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Kyra stood, crossing the room to pour himself another glass of wine. "Sounds to me like you've got some unfinished business of your own to attend to."

Demosthenes took a deep breath, visibly struggling to regain control. "My personal vendettas won't interfere with your job, if that's what you're worried about."

"I'm not worried," Kyra said, sipping his wine. "Just making conversation. After all, we're friends, aren't we? And friends share these things."

"We're business associates, Kyra. Nothing more. Don't pretend otherwise."

"As you say. But tell me, these young thieves who stole your wife's necklace... do you have any leads on where they might have gone?"

"I might. Why do you care?"

"Let's just say I'm always on the lookout for new talent," Kyra responded with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Anyone who can outwit the great Demosthenes might be worth keeping an eye on."

The assassin's hand moved to the hilt of his concealed dagger. "If you're thinking of interfering..."

Kyra held up his hands in surrender. "Relax, my friend. Your quarry is your own. I'm merely making conversation, as I said."

"Sure you are. I’ll get you your target."

"I’m sure you’ll do."

As Demosthenes' footsteps faded down the corridor, Kyra remained still, his eyes fixed on the doorway. The air in the room seemed to thicken, charged with an unseen energy. Without turning, he spoke into the apparent emptiness.

"Are you going to stand there all night, or are you going to come inside?"

A moment of silence passed before a tall, blond figure materialized from the shadows, stepping into the light. His presence seemed to fill the room, radiating power and an otherworldly beauty.

"Long time no see, Thanatos," the newcomer said.

Kyra's lips curved into a smile, though his eyes remained wary. "I thought I sensed that aura of yours. Am I right? Apollo?"

Apollo leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. His golden hair caught the lamplight, creating a halo effect around his head. "Surprised to see me?"

"I am," Kyra said, turning to face the god fully. "I thought you were killed back on Olympus."

A flicker of something - pain, perhaps, or anger - passed across Apollo's perfect features. "Sorry to disappoint you, then."

Kyra moved to the table, refilling his wine glass. "What brings the great Apollo to my humble abode? Surely you didn't come all this way just to reminisce about old times."

"I want to know about the door in the mountains. The one that leads to Olympus. How did you know about that path?"

Kyra, or Thanatos as Apollo called him, paused with the wine glass halfway to his lips. He set it down slowly. "That's quite a specific question. Why don't you have a seat? We can discuss this like civilized beings."

"I'll stand. Just answer the question."

Thanatos spread his hands in a gesture of mock helplessness. "You'll have to be more specific. I've known many paths in my time, walked through countless doors. Which one in particular has caught your interest?"

"Don't play games with me. You know exactly which door I'm talking about. The hidden entrance, the one even most of the gods didn't know about. How did you find it?"

"And why, pray tell, is this information so important to you now? It's been years since Olympus fell. Why come asking about secret doors after all this time?"

"That's my business. I'm not here to satisfy your curiosity. I'm here for answers."

A low chuckle escaped Thanatos' lips. "Oh, Apollo. Still so used to mortals falling over themselves to please you. But I'm not one of your worshippers, am I? I don't owe you anything, least of all explanations about ancient history."

"You forget who you're talking to. I am still a god, even if Olympus has fallen. I could destroy you with a thought."

"Could you? Are you sure about that? The world has changed, my friend. The old rules don't apply anymore. And besides..." He paused, taking a sip of his wine. "If you were truly capable of destroying me, you wouldn't be here asking questions. You'd have taken what you wanted."

The two beings stared at each other for a few seconds, the tension in the room rose.

Finally, Thanatos spoke again. "Tell me why you want to know about the door? Give me a reason to help you. Then, perhaps, we can come to an arrangement that benefits us both."

The air around Apollo began to shimmer, his skin taking on a golden glow that grew brighter with each passing second. In a burst of motion, he lunged forward, seizing Kyra by the front of his tunic and lifting him off the ground with inhuman strength.

Kyra barely had time to register what was happening before the world around them blurred and shifted. The walls of his private quarters melted away, replaced by a vast expanse of wilderness. Dense forests stretched as far as the eye could see, with no sign of human habitation in any direction.

Apollo hurled Kyra to the ground, the impact sending up a cloud of dirt and leaves. "I have no time for your shenanigans, Thanatos!" he roared.

Kyra pushed himself up, brushing off his clothes. "If you're planning to beat the information out of me, I'm afraid you're in for a long night. We're both immortal, after all."

Apollo hovered above the ground. The air around him crackled with barely contained power. "I'll do what I must to know the truth."

"The truth?" Kyra's laugh was hollow. "Trust me, the truth won't serve you well."

"I can take it," he snarled, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"See, that’s where you’re wrong," Kyra's form began to change, his human appearance melting away like smoke. In its place stood a being of pure darkness, a swirling mass of shadows with two pinpricks of light where eyes should be.

Before Apollo could react, Thanatos moved. One moment he was standing several feet away, the next he was right in front of the god, a fist of pure shadow connecting with Apollo's face.

WHAM!

The impact sent Apollo flying backward. He bounced off the ground once, twice, three times, each collision splintering trees and gouging deep furrows in the earth. Finally, he skidded to a stop, leaving a trail of destruction in his wake.

"I’m way out of your league," Thanatos' voice, now a deep, otherworldly rumble. "The powers you once commanded are but a shadow of what they were. Do you really want to test yourself against Death itself?"

Apollo pushed himself up, golden ichor - the blood of the gods - trickling from a cut on his lip. His eyes blazed with anger and something else... fear, perhaps? "What are you?" he asked.

Thanatos glided forward, his form rippling like a heat mirage. "I am what I've always been. Death. The end of all things. Did you really think your pantheon was the be-all and end-all of existence?"

Apollo's glow dimmed slightly as he stared at the being before him. The arrogance that had driven him to confront Thanatos was giving way to uncertainty. He had come seeking answers, but now found himself faced with a creature whose very essence challenged the limits of his understanding.

The entity before him was no longer recognizable. It had transformed into something far beyond its former self, radiating an energy that felt overwhelming. Such a drastic change in power could only be the result of magic. Apollo's thoughts immediately turned to Hekate. She must be behind this transformation. The goddess of witchcraft was the only one capable of granting such immense strength.

"You were never this powerful before."

"That’s true," Thanatos said. "Before, I was just a plaything to you and your sister, Artemis. Now? Now, I’m a true god. More so than any Olympians like you."

"What have you done to yourself?"

"Let’s just say I had an upgrade. A very powerful upgrade."

"Someone gave you that power. Was it Hekate?"

Thanatos shook his finger. "Hold on, my dear. That's not something you should go digging for."

"The door," Apollo asked. "How did you know about it?"

Thanatos' form solidified, taking on a more humanoid shape, though still composed of swirling darkness. "You’re still on about that? I told you I don’t want to talk about it. Why do you keep asking about that stupid door?"

"Because—"

"Wrong answer," he said. "I was asking a rhetorical question."

Thanatos raised his hand, and the earth beneath Apollo's feet trembled. In an instant, chains erupted from the ground, wrapping themselves around the god’s wrists, ankles, and neck. The metal gleamed with an otherworldly sheen, absorbing the deity’s golden light.

Apollo strained against his bonds. But despite all his strength, the chains held fast, not budging even a fraction of an inch.

"Don't bother," Thanatos said. "You'll only exhaust yourself."

Apollo ceased his struggles, glaring at the god of death. "What is this? What have you done to me?"

Thanatos glided closer. "Do you recognize this metal? You should. It's the same alloy that bound Prometheus to his mountain prison when Zeus decided to make an example of him."

"Impossible. That metal was forged by Hephaestus himself, using the power of Zeus. How could you possibly—"

"Possess it?" Thanatos finished for him. "Oh, Apollo. Still thinking in such limited terms. Did it never occur to you that there might be forces in this universe beyond even Zeus's comprehension?"

The chains clinked softly as Apollo shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position. "What do you want? Why this show of power?"

Thanatos circled him. "Want? I want you to understand, my dear friend. To truly grasp the situation you've walked into. You came here demanding answers, throwing your weight around like the god you once were. But times have changed. The old order has fallen, and new powers are rising to take its place."

"And you think you’re that new order?"

"Maybe. And what better way to create that new order than to turn your only nephew, Lucian, into my side."

"Try as you may, you will never turn him into your demented side."

"We’ll see. I did turn Demosthenes to my side. Do you know he’s a demi-god?"

"The assassin you just talked to?"

"Yeah," Thanatos nodded. "It turns out, he’s the bastard son of Hades. Who knew, right? Who knew that the god of the underworld had an affair with a mortal woman? I did. When I found that out, I turned him into an assassin." He grabbed Apollo’s hair and pulled it back while leaning in to his ear. "I want you to watch as I turn your precious nephew into one of my most powerful warriors."

"No," he gasped. "NO! Lucian is strong, he will never succumb to your manipulations!"

Thanatos released him, stepping back with a cold laugh. He raised his hand once more and the ground beneath Apollo's feet began to tremble and crack, the vibrations intensifying with each passing second.

Apollo's eyes widened in horror as he realized what was happening. "No! You can't do this!" he cried out, but his protests fell on deaf ears.

The earth split open, and the god began to sink. The chains that bound him pulled downward with inexorable force, dragging him into the gaping maw of the earth.

"From now on, this will be your prison for all eternity," Thanatos intoned. "You will watch as I bring your family to my side, and we will create a new world order in this realm."

"No! You don't understand what you're doing!"

But Thanatos was unmoved. He watched as Apollo sank deeper, the god's pleas growing muffled as the earth swallowed him.

"The age of Olympus is over. A new era is dawning, and you will bear witness to it all from your underground prison."

The last thing visible was Apollo's outstretched hand, reaching desperately for salvation. Then, with a final tremor, the earth closed over him, sealing the god of light in eternal darkness.

Thanatos stood alone in the clearing. The air itself seemed to hold its breath, as if the very fabric of reality was adjusting to this seismic shift in the cosmic order.

"And so it begins," he murmured to himself, his form already beginning to fade back into the shadows. "The old gods will fall, and a new pantheon will rise. And I, Death itself, will stand at its center."

As night fully claimed the forest, Thanatos vanished, leaving no trace of the momentous event that had just transpired.