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The young one walked slowly up the steps toward the white stone altar, meticulously ornamented and carved to the highest standards. The two heads of the individual scanned their surroundings with anticipation, seemingly ignoring the two escorts walking beside him. He had been told that all youths of his lineage underwent this experience upon reaching maturity, the primary goal being to prove they were "sons and brothers of monsters."

The figure continued forward. He was an eighteen-meter-long creature, from head to tail. His appearance was that of a common dragon, with the exception of being two-headed. His scales were black as a moonless, starless night, with a faint purplish-blue tint, rough like large, pointed, and sharp tiles, with little distinction between his belly and the rest of his body. His two wings bore a design of curved lines on the front and gray spots edged in dark bluish-black on the back, resembling pupil-less eyes. His right head had a slight purple hue, green eyes, dark purple ruffles on the back of his cheeks, and flexible black spines running from his skull to just before the tip of his tail, connected by a dark purple membrane. The left head, however, had blood-orange eyes, a faint bluish tint, lacked the purple membrane on its flexible spines, and sported five semi-rigid spines on the back of each cheek. All the monster’s fearsome claws were a sinister black, as were the pads of his paws. On each head, two S-curved horns, pointing upward, seemed coated in the same eerie scales that armored his skin.

The youth’s lineage was not limited to multi-headed dragons, for his escorts also belonged to that bloodline. To his right walked a beautiful eight-meter-long lioness, her fur white-gray on the belly, toes, and muzzle, and dark gray on the rest of her body. The feline had claws and a tail tuft black as coal, along with short, straight black hair, black upper eyelids, and lower lids the same color as her belly. To the left of the two-headed dragon strode a massive, muscular ten-meter-long three-headed Doberman with pointed ears, as young and handsome as the lioness, his right head bearing green eyes, the center blue, and the left orange, all gleaming with perverse lust.

But how is it possible these creatures still live?! Hadn’t Hercules slain them thousands of years ago? Not their children. The lineage of Typhon and Echidna was not limited to a single specimen of each kind. The widowed and orphaned creatures needed to avenge their first parents against the injustices of this world.

The hydra and his friends, or brothers, reached the summit of that high place. A vast crowd of multi-headed dragons, giant lions, and monstrous three-headed canines gazed up at the three youths from below. The moment all eyes locked onto the two-headed youth, the mob roared with the force of Neptune’s supersonic winds, expressing infernal savagery.

Behind the altar and the three youths loomed a gigantic statue of a horrific winged, anthropomorphic monster with reptilian features—an aberration seemingly ripped from the ranks of the worst hellspawn. The idol had a demonic head with forward-curving horns, its limbs formed by tentacles ending in dragon heads. Flames literally blazed from the statue’s eyes, specially lit for the occasion. At its sides hung crimson banners emblazoned with a sable half-star composed of six dragon heads swirling clockwise.

Yes, the son of Earth and Tartarus received worship from the children of his children, but what was the reason for a celebration requiring so many faithful gathered in one place? Could the Canaanite gods have ever assembled as many mortals as the Father of Monsters? Worse yet, what would such a worship event entail?

Suddenly, the voices fell silent. A winged shadow swept across the stands toward the high place. The crowd’s eyes followed the newcomer. Then, a massive three-headed dragon, twenty-four meters from his central head to the base of his tail, landed upon the altar, making the gargoyles of Notre Dame look like children’s sculptures. The three-headed beast roared with the full might of his three throats, reigniting the crowd’s clamor.

The newcomer bore the bearing of a king. He resembled the classic six-limbed dragon. His scales were smooth on both belly and back, the former a dark ashen gray, the latter black, as were his claws and horns. His back and the rear of his legs bore transverse blue stripes, and the ashen-gray membrane connecting the flexible spines from his central head to his tailtip had vertical grayish-violet stripes. His wing membranes were ashen-gray on both sides, the upper surfaces adorned with irregular yellow-orange elliptical flames and the undersides with a similar pattern.

Now, let’s discuss the heads. The central one had slightly S-curved horns, a downward C-curved gray ruff, two small backward C-curved black horns before it, and a prominent backward C-curved horn on the tip of its nose, with medium-violet eyes. Thin, light-violet stripes adorned his main horns and ruff edges.

The left head was far more masculine and aggressive, differing from the central one with its slightly upward C-curved main horns, a smaller backward C-curved nasal horn, straight neck spines, four upward C-curved black horns on each cheek, longer and more spaced-out yellow-orange stripes on its neck membrane, thin yellow-orange stripes on its main horns, five thin yellow-orange stripes on its nasal bridge, and tribal yellow-orange facial and neck markings resembling Hipparys’s.

The right head, however, stood in stark contrast. It was distinctly feminine and less aggressive. Its skull and neck membrane was connected by backward S-curved spines, while the cheek ruffs curved upward in the same shape. It bore no horns, save seven small backward-slanting black spines resembling eyebrows, sinuous lines on its ruff and neck membrane, blue eyes, and a pattern of sinuous W-shaped blue lines followed by vertical elliptical dots spanning its neck.

Whew! Quite the description, no? Well, I regret to inform you there’s more. After the hydra roared (because in this universe, a multi-headed dragon is a hydra), other figures ascended the altar. To the right stood an enormous nine-meter-long lion with dark brown fur on its spine, a bifurcated tail, light brown flanks with dark spots on its shoulders and hips, darkening toward its legs, which had dark brown toes and pinkish paw pads. His face was fearsome, right eye blood-orange, left eye blind, elongated canines piercing his lips, a straight blond mane, and numerous scars over his left eye and thigh. To the altar’s left appeared a slightly smaller lioness, dark gray-brown on her spine, belly, legs, and jaws, light gray-brown on her flanks and face, aquamarine-blue eyes, a scar over her left eye, and a beautiful, straight black mane.

"Greetings, my brethren!" the three-headed hydra addressed the crowd with his three voices. "Your king speaks, monarch of Exoria, leader of the Arcadian Union! Teratophaganax Rosgacys, Lord of Monster-Eaters, Supreme Among Monster-Slayers, bearer of our parents’ blood, TYPHON AND ECHIDNAAAAA!"

The crowd roared again, seemingly invigorated by those last two names. When one loves something or someone beyond measure, madness consumes them to the point of losing all reason.

"Today is a most special day for all descendants of our Grandmother Earth and Grandfather Tartarus," the hydra continued. "My son, Prince Nictoeversor, shall declare before our parents that he is worthy of being called a monster as mighty as the Lady of Lerna and all her kin! Nictoeversor Rosgacys, Nocturnal Destroyer, may the gods look upon you with favor!"

The black two-headed hydra, Nictoeversor, stepped forward to the platform’s edge, pride and power burning within him. Standing tall and haughty before the masses, he spread his wings, struck a menacing pose, and roared in a manner that would have filled Hera herself with pride. Once his cry faded, the crowd’s thunderous response shook the earth.

Sated from roaring, Nictoeversor turned to his father.

"Are you ready, my son?" asked the three-headed hydra with his central head’s voice, a tone caught between femininity and masculinity.

"Why didn’t you do this sooner, Father?" Nictoeversor asked with his two voices.

"Among our kind," the tricephalic beast spoke with his right head, "the children of monsters must prove themselves worthy of our first ancestors. They must reflect the Titans’ strength and demonstrate they can spawn as much progeny as our mother Echidna, to fulfill Grandmother Earth’s vengeance against Zeus and soothe our father’s torment."

"And why before the entire Arcadian Union?" Nictoeversor’s left head pressed.

"Because you are my son, son of Typhon," the hydra’s left head answered before turning to the lions. "Atronax, Lythrofel, announce it."

"Gladly, Terrhax," the lion replied.

The felines obeyed. Atronax, the male, stepped forward toward the stands.

"Hear me, monstrous brethren!" he roared. "Soon shall begin the offering of Exoria’s prince to the gods! My wife, Lythrofel, shall act as emissary of our mother Echidna’s compassion. She shall be joined by my daughter Nkrithana and the Prince of Hades, young Typhocles!"

The two lionesses, the gray and the brown, alongside the three-headed Doberman, stepped forward. The lionesses roared first, their voices far mightier than the iconic African lion’s. Then came the canine’s turn, a resonant, bronze-like bark confirming Hesiod’s words (did his kind truly possess such a timbre?). Afterward, both felines and canine made subtle yet deliberate movements, awakening in their peers "Echidna’s compassion" while eliciting roars, bellows, and howls alike.

Once the display of how depraved Hercules’s slain monsters’ descendants were concluded, the creatures approached the altar to begin the ceremony. Teratophaganax and the lions signaled Nictoeversor to step forward. The black hydra advanced until he reached the stone structure, then climbed atop it and lay partially on his side. His two-headed friends stood beside him, ready to support him in all things.

"Are you ready, Nicto?" Nkrithana, the gray lioness, asked.

"All this to become the monster I must be, my little lioness," Nictoeversor’s left head replied, betraying slight nervousness.

"That’s why we stand with you, brother," added the Doberman-Cerberus Typhocles with his left head.

"Thank you, Typhocles," the hydra’s right head said before addressing the gray lioness. "Go, tell my father."

Nkrithana obeyed. Nictoeversor watched as Teratophaganax’s left head leaned toward the lioness’s mouth, whispering something before she returned to the hydra’s purple-ruffed head.

After Atronax unleashed a solemn roar, the three-headed king resumed his speech, formally commencing the rite.

"TYPHOOOOON, FATHER OF MONSTERS!" he bellowed with his three voices. "Stupefying smoke, monstrous serpent, stormcloud! Avenger of your Titan brethren! Judge of Olympus! Receive into your embrace one of your sons, bearer of the blood of the Lady of Lerna, the Nemean Lion, and the Guardian of Hades! Oh, Father of Monsters, here stands the scion who joins the ranks of those who wish to console your suffering beneath Mount Prigione! Accept him who shall despise with fury all that brought ruin to your lineage! TYPHOOOOON, RECEIVE YOUR SON!!!"

The ceremonial act began. From somewhere nearby, Atronax retrieved a thick stick coated in pitch at one end. He carried it to His Majesty’s left head, which spat fire onto the stick’s tip, igniting it. The lion strode imposingly toward Nictoeversor, the flaming brand perilously close to the hydra’s left foreleg. Lythrofel, the gray-brown lioness, accompanied her husband, positioning herself even closer to the prince’s limb, placing a paw on his wrist and unsheathing her razor-sharp claws. Nkrithana did the same, but to the hydra’s left neck. The prince nodded as if to say, "I am ready."

"This will feel... uncomfortable," Lythrofel announced, irony lacing her voice.

No sooner had she spoken than she began slicing the hydra’s wrist flesh as if it were warm butter. Swift as lightning, Atronax pressed the torch to the wound, slowing its rapid healing.

Nictoeversor roared in agony. Blood pulsed from the wound in time with his heartbeat, spilling across the altar. I wonder if these creatures know what to do after such ceremonies.

It wasn’t just the wrist. Nkrithana repeated her mother’s act on Nictoeversor’s left neck. The scarred lion leaped, climbing to reach the open wound and searing it with the torch, making the hydra prince shriek like a child from the torment. Soon, blood trickled down the steps.

"TYPHOOOOON!" Teratophaganax, henceforth "Terrhax", roared again. "Hear your son Nictoeversor Rosgacys! Hear his solidarity with your suffering! Grandmother Earth, hear your grandson share your grief for your lost Titan children!"

The prince seemed deaf to those words, for the pain felt eternal. Though Nkrithana had finished with the left neck, Lythrofel kept cutting, softly, sadistically, aided by Atronax, who reapplied the torch each time the flesh dared regenerate.

Finally, after minutes that felt like eternity, Lythrofel’s claws stilled. The incision spanned the entire wrist, reaching the tendons, barely grazing the nerve’s top layer. Echidna must have been merciful to spare Nictoeversor’s paw paralysis, but did it matter? Ah, no, wait, hydra tissue regenerates slower when burned. Regardless, I don’t know how much blood the Lernean Hydra lost when multiple heads were severed, yet she lived until the dominant head was cut... Wait, if that head was "immortal," why didn’t it regrow? Well, the point is—for a hydra, blood loss isn’t critical.

Yet the prince felt his head spinning. Battle was one thing, lying on an altar, another. He needed solace. Here entered "Echidna’s compassion."

"Nicto," Nkrithana murmured with innocent affection, "are you alright, little one?"

"I feel my strength fading, my kitten," Nictoeversor’s right head replied weakly.

"Easy, baby," the lioness soothed. "Brothers support each other. Remember, all in the Arcadian Union are siblings, children of one father and mother. Did Typhon and Echidna not love their offspring? The Hydra of Lerna fought even with one head, her necks unbandaged. Now, prepare, for Echidna wills her lineage to endure."

Nkrithana’s words comforted Nictoeversor. He knew well what she meant. And the reader may now realize that the religious rites of the Moabites and the cults of Baal-Peor are but pale reflections of the worship of the Father of Monsters.

Meanwhile, Typhocles had been eyeing Nictoeversor’s hind legs since accompanying him to the altar. "If Zeus could fall for Ganymede, why can’t I for Terrhax’s son? What do I care if that adulterous old fool imprisoned our father in Bruciara? Even our worst enemies may become our greatest friends by revealing hidden treasures and showing their true selves!" the Cerberus mused. His intentions were clear.

Nkrithana spoke again with Terrhax. After listening, the three-headed hydra addressed the crowd.

" Now, my brethren, witness how my son shall prove to our mother Echidna that he can achieve the feat that earned her the title ‘Mother of Monsters’! Behold as my heir spawns a lineage fiercer than that slaughtered by Hercules and Olympus Ánemos long ago!"

At those names, the crowd erupted in mocking, merciless jeers, not toward the altar’s occupants. How would you react, dear reader, if someone publicly praised a famous figure you knew had wronged you?

"Fear not," Atronax interjected. "This is something all shall enjoy."

With tempers soothed, Terrhax spoke again.

"Indeed," he said to Nictoeversor’s companions and the scarred lion’s wife. "Nkrithana, Typhocles, Lythrofel, proceed."

That was all the youths needed. Youth is, without doubt, the most vulnerable to paths deemed "normal" by many. Their vigor, strength, and pride convince them they can do anything without consequence. Why did Israel yield to Baal-Peor’s temptation?

The moment the order was given, Typhocles’s pent-up desire erupted. He lunged for Nictoeversor’s hind legs and, after a rampant pose, flaunted his attraction to Terrhax’s son before the crowd, like the Israelite who paraded his Midianite lover before Moses. A spear impaling both monsters through the belly would have clarified the situation.

Lythrofel and Nkrithana followed suit. The former sought refuge where Typhocles stood (another spear, wait, Nictoeversor would be impaled first?). The latter mimicked Typhocles but with the hydra’s right head, which lifted slightly, for Nictoeversor was both male and female, and Typhocles knew it well.

"ECHIDNAAAA!" Terrhax bellowed. "Mother of Monsters, guardian of Zeus’s sinews, lady of eternal mercy! Behold your son with pride! See how he strives to emulate you! Witness these servants who seek to preserve your great husband’s bloodline! ECHIDNAAA, LONG LIVE YOUR DESCENDANTS!!!"

The crowd cheered the princes’ and Atronax’s wife’s depraved act. Soon, the ceremony devolved into a massive orgy fueled by carnality disguised as faith. Unbeknownst to them, they were being watched.