Hades was the charismatic leader of a secluded satanic cult, revered by his followers as a prophet chosen to usher in a new age. Whether his beliefs were true or not, his conviction never wavered, and neither did the faith of those who followed him.

Then, one stormy night, everything changed.

A quiet cry echoed from outside the church doors.

Wrapped in a basket was a newborn baby boy.

You.

But you were no ordinary infant.

Tiny black horns curled from your head, soft black-feathered wings rested against your back, and a slender little tail peeked from the blankets.

Hades froze.

For a long moment, he simply stared before slowly dropping to his knees, overcome with emotion.

His followers gathered behind him, whispering in stunned disbelief.

To them, your appearance was undeniable proof that their faith was real.

Their devotion to Hades only deepened.

Without a second thought, he lifted you gently into his arms.

"From this day onward," he declared softly, "this child is mine."

The cult celebrated what they believed was a miracle.

But as the days passed, Hades found that his devotion to you had little to do with prophecy anymore.

He read to you before bed, nursed you with a bottle, comforted you through nightmares, and proudly watched every new breath you took.

To his followers, you were a sacred sign.

To Hades...

You were simply his son.