Gaia approached Hera.
"Why awaken now? Because the time has come, child. The World Tree has taken root in Hades's realm, and Hades's child has been returning nourishment from another world to me. I have tasted fresh earth—death and rebirth from another cosmos. How could I continue sleeping with such a feast before me?"
Hera's marital power blazed brightly, forming a golden barrier around her, resisting the oppression of the primordial earth.
But the barrier trembled—Gaia's power was, in its essence, the 'birth of all things,' including the very institution of marriage itself.
Her authority was being suppressed at its root.
"What have you done to Demeter?" Hera asked through gritted teeth. "Is her consciousness still there?"
"It is and it isn't." Gaia reached out and touched the golden barrier. Where her fingers made contact, the barrier rippled like water.
"Like a river merging with the ocean, she is still herself, yet she is also part of me. Do not worry. When my business is concluded, she will return—perhaps a little wiser, a little less foolishly attached to men."
Suddenly, she tilted her head, as if listening to some distant voice.
"Ah... It seems the other side is lively as well. Two Zeus' fighting? Like rutting bulls battling over territory."
Gaia withdrew her hand and turned to walk back towards the altar.
She left the nymph crumpled on the ground, and Hera standing in a cold sweat.
"Go back now, Hera." Gaia spoke with her back turned, her voice returning to Demeter's usual softness, but beneath that softness lay an abyss.
"Tell Hades that his mother accepts his filial piety, and that the nourishment of the World Tree was most delicious. The power of corruption is truly useful. Tell him also... I have borrowed his sister's body for a time. When he needs it, I shall return to him a complete Demeter—perhaps a small gift for my beloved son."
"What are you planning to do?" Hera demanded.
Gaia did not answer.
She simply raised her hand, and the entire temple began to tremble.
The earth cracked and split, and thick roots burst through the ground, entwining pillars and walls. Vines grew wildly, flowers bloomed and wilted in an instant, fruits fell in clusters only to turn to mud the moment they touched the ground.
The cycle of life and death compressed into mere seconds, creating a deafening silence.
Hera stumbled out of the temple.
The door slammed shut behind her, and vines instantly sealed every crack.
She stood in the sunlight of Delphi, yet felt a bone-deep chill.
---
On the peak of Olympus, the eternal flame of Hestia burned quietly.
Hera dragged her heavy steps into her eldest sister's sanctuary and sat down on the stone bench by the hearth.
"You have seen her." Hestia's voice was calm and unwavering.
She was always dressed in a simple white robe, a half-finished woolen weaving in her hands—her method of cultivating the pure state of the 'goddess of the hearth.'
"Sister, did you already know?" Hera looked up, her eyes red-rimmed.
Hestia did not answer directly.
She set down the half-woven cloth, approached the hearth, and tended the embers with bronze tongs.
"When Hades brought the World Tree's nourishment from another world and fed it to Gaia, I felt the pulse deep within the earth change. Later, Demeter began visiting the ancient temple beneath Delphi—the original sanctuary dedicated to Gaia, which existed long before Olympus was founded."
"Why didn't you stop her? Why didn't you tell anyone?"
"Tell whom? Zeus?" Hestia allowed a rare hint of sarcasm to colour her voice. "Can you truly trust him? Poseidon? He is busy creating his new art. Hades... He may know, but he has his own plans."
She looked at Hera with uncommon gentleness in her eyes. "As for you, my little sister, you have already been tormented enough by the priesthood of marriage. I did not wish for you to be drawn into a deeper vortex."
"But I am already drawn in!" Hera's voice cracked. "This is our sister! She is possessed by Gaia, and we are still sitting here—"
"Gaia will not harm her," Hestia interrupted. "At least, she will not actively seek to hurt her. The way primordial gods see us is the way we see ants. Would you deliberately crush an ant to death? Only if it gets in your way. For now, Demeter is a convenient 'vessel,' nothing more."
She approached Hera, crouched down, and took her sister's cold hands in her own. "Listen to me, Hera. Gaia has awakened now for a reason. It may be to absorb nourishment from another world to restore her strength. It may be because she senses some greater threat. Or it may simply be a reaction to the stimulus of a foreign object like the World Tree. But whatever the reason, this is not a level we can intervene in."
"Then what can we do?" Hera asked, despair creeping into her voice.
Hestia was silent for a long moment, the firelight illuminating her solemn profile.
"Wait," she said at last.
"Wait for Hades's plan to unfold. Wait for Zeus to play his part. Wait for Gaia to achieve her purpose. And when the dust settles, go and retrieve Demeter—if she wishes to return by then."
She squeezed Hera's hand. "For now, protect yourself. Your marital power is ineffective against Gaia, but you can use it to strengthen the boundaries of Olympus's divine realm. Do not let the Mother Earth's power seep into every corner of the sacred mountain. That is all you can do right now."
Hera closed her eyes. Tears finally traced down her cheeks.
She remembered, long ago, when the five sisters were still in Kronos's womb, Demeter had always been the quietest.
Later, Hades had kept his promise and given them recompense.
Hestia had chosen the freedom of the Eternal Virgin. Demeter had kept Hades's 'recompense'—a gift Hera later heard was a golden earring shaped like wheat, said to contain the purest life force from the depths of the Underworld.
Thinking back now, that earring might not have been mere compensation, but an anchor.
When Gaia needed a vessel, Demeter—closest to the earth and bearing the imprint of Underworld life—became the most suitable choice.
"We are all just pawns, aren't we?" Hera asked with a bitter smile. "Whether we were in our father's womb or living now."
Hestia did not deny it. She simply embraced her sister gently, as she had done when they were children.
The sacred flame burned quietly, reflecting the shadows of the two embracing goddesses.
Outside the temple, Olympus shone as radiantly as ever. The gods feasted, fought, and loved. No one knew of the ancient being awakening deep within the earth. No one noticed something quietly shattering within the heart of the goddess of marriage.