Echoes of Olympus: Depths of Eternity

In the pit where darkness seethes, Tartarus stirs, a void that breathes. An endless abyss, where silence reigns, And none may flee its grievous chains.

Down into the depths it falls, An anvil dropped, through endless calls, Nine days it takes to reach the core, Where all is lost, and none restore.

Tartarus, the prison’s lair, Where Titans sleep, bound in despair. The cursed, the wicked, those who defy, Rest beneath the eternal sky.

But from this pit, the dead did rise, Their forms began to shape the skies. Around Tartarus, the realms were wrought, The Underworld, by shadows caught.

The River Styx, of hatred’s flow, Marks the boundary where none may go. Its waters dark, where oaths are sworn, A crossing to the realm forlorn.

The Acheron, with pain and woe, Carries souls where none may know. Through sorrow’s tide, they make their way, To realms where shades in torment stay.

The Lethe’s waters, soft and cold, Erase all memories, young and old. For souls who drink, their past is gone, They wander through the endless dawn.

The Phlegethon, with fire’s might, Burns the soul with endless light. A river fierce, where flames reside,
To purify, or to deride.

And Cocytus, frozen, weeps, Where wails of pain the river keeps.
Its frozen tides, where sorrow’s borne, Echo the cries of souls forlorn.

Around this heart, the land takes form, Purple-black, with trees deformed. Where shadows stretch and silence holds, An endless realm of sorrow bold.

The Asphodel Meadows, cold and grey, Where souls of indifference lay. Forgotten lives, with no great sin, They wander here, with none to win.

Far beyond, the Elysian Fields, A paradise where joy is sealed. For those who lived with virtue bright, Here endless bliss and pure delight.

But even Tartarus, deep and vast, Yearned for something more to last. So came Erebus, in shadow’s wake, Seeking peace, a home to make.

Nyx, the night, with stars ablaze, Joined him there, in shadow’s maze. Not to rule, but find a place, Where darkness lived in endless grace.

Thanatos, god of death, did roam, Seeking rest, a quiet home. And Hypnos, too, of sleep’s domain, Came to join them, free from strain.

They were the first to find home in the Underworld, But not the last, as fate unfurled. No throne to claim, nor crown to wear, But in the shadows, peace was there.

And in this realm, of death and shade, The first to rest were those who stayed.

From the pit, the Underworld arose, A kingdom of death, where shadow grows. Its rivers flow with sorrow’s seed, Where all are bound by fate’s dark creed.

Tartarus, the endless void, A place where time and life are destroyed. Yet from its depths, the world was made, Where the dead are kept, and life does fade.

And so the Underworld was born, A realm of night, a realm of scorn. From the pit, to the realms of shade, The Depths of Eternity were laid.

The throne of the Underworld remains, Untouched, untaken, yet to claim. A seat of power, cold and bare, Waiting for one who dares to dare.