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Chapter 11

Eros

E ros sat at the edge of the bed, watching Psyche as she slept soundly, her chest rising and falling in a peaceful rhythm. He gently pulled off her work boots, setting them aside before carefully dressing her in her pajamas to make her more comfortable. What the fuck was he supposed to do?

Snap out of it.

Time was running out.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed a number, his fingers hovering over the screen.

The phone rang once, twice, and then Aphrodite’s voice came through, warm and calm as always. “Eros, darling, what’s on your mind?”

“Mama, I need to talk to you.”

There was a brief pause, then a quiet sigh. “Of course, my love. I’ll be there shortly.” The line went silent as Aphrodite ended the call.

A few moments later, a shimmer of golden light filled the room, and before Eros could even stand, his mother and Hephaestus appeared, stepping gracefully into the cabin.

Aphrodite’s gaze immediately landed on Psyche. Her expression shifted to one of curiosity and surprise. “Is this…the shifter from the wedding?”

Eros nodded. “Yes. We’ve become…close.”

Hephaestus raised an eyebrow as he took in the sight of Psyche. “Is she unwell?” He gestured to the sleeping figure. “Why is she in bed?”

Eros exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Bob, her coworker, put her under a spell. She’s…trapped in it. He won’t release her until I give him the pyxis.”

“The pyxis,” Aphrodite repeated, her face clouded with worry. She moved closer to inspect Psyche.

“What does he want with it?” said Hephaestus. “Is this Bob a geryon?”

“Yes, he wants Cyncus’s magic,” said Eros. He quickly told them what happened.

“It was only a matter of time,” Aphrodite murmured.

Hephaestus leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, his expression serious. “I gave the pyxis to Hades for safekeeping.”

“Okay,” Eros turned to face him. “How do I get into the Underworld?”

“Apollo can get you in,” he replied simply.

Eros’s brow furrowed in disbelief. “What? No way in fuck am I asking him for help.”

He and the god of the sun had a long-standing rivalry, mostly due to Eros’s penchant for messing with him whenever they crossed paths. The thought of asking Apollo for assistance was about as appealing as a trip to Tartarus itself.

“It’s the quickest way, Eros,” Aphrodite said, giving him a knowing look before pulling out her phone. She dialed Apollo’s number and without hesitation asked him to meet them.

“What’s going on?” Apollo said as he materialized into the room, his presence filling the space.

Hephaestus wasted no time. “Could you get Eros to Hades’s office now? We’ll explain later.”

Apollo’s eyes flickered between the three of them, and it seemed like he sensed the gravity of the situation because he placed a hand on Eros’s shoulder. And before Eros could protest, there was a sharp tug of energy, and in the blink of an eye, they were standing in a cold, dimly lit office.

Hades, the god of the Underworld, looked up from a pile of papers. His dark gaze flicked over Eros, his lips curling into a small smirk. “Ah, Eros, you’re here for the pyxis?”

“Yes, I need it.”

Hades’s gaze never wavered as he leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming lightly on the armrest. “Well then, let’s see if we can come to an arrangement.”

“No arrangements, Hades. I just need the pyxis,” Eros stood his ground, his voice sharp.

Hades raised an eyebrow, his expression unfazed. “Oh, I see. You think I’ll just hand it over? Do you really believe you’re in a position to demand anything from me?” He leaned forward slightly, his gaze piercing. “Tell me, Eros, how long do you think you’ll stay in the Upperworld?”

Eros groaned. “I’m not here for your games, Hades.”

“Do you really think this asshole has changed?” Apollo said.

Eros clenched his fists, itching to punch Apollo’s smug face, but he knew better. He was here for one thing and one thing only. He had to stay focused.

“I need the pyxis to save someone,” Eros finally said.

Hades tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as he studied Eros, his expression unreadable. For a moment, it felt as though all hope was slipping away, and Eros was about to snap, ready to say something sarcastic, when Hades broke the silence.

“I hid it at the bottom of the Acheron River,” Hades said. “Orthrus will guide you.”

Eros blinked, his tension easing just a fraction. “Thank you, Hades,” he said, relief washing over him.

Apollo shot a glance at Hades before he teleported Eros outside the palace where Orthrus waited for them.

Apollo didn’t let go of Eros’s shoulder. “What’s this about?”

Eros shrugged him off. “I don’t have to tell you anything.”

“Actually, you do.”

“Fine,” Eros turned to him, frustration bubbling up. “Psyche was put under a spell, and the only way to break it is to get the pyxis.”

Apollo studied him for a moment, then nodded. “So, you care for Psyche? She’s the shifter that was staying with Artemis, right?”

Eros felt his face flush slightly, but he quickly grumbled, “Yes.”

“Well, look at you,” Apollo said, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah,” Eros muttered, rolling his eyes.

“You don’t have any powers now,” Apollo continued, leaning back slightly, “so getting the pyxis will be hard.”

“It’s worth it.”

Apollo sighed. “Orthrus,” he called out, and the two-headed hound who guarded the Underworld along with his brothers, padded up to them, his enormous paws barely making a sound against the ground.

“Hello, my lord,” Orthus said in his deep, rumbling voice, each head speaking in unison.

“This is Eros. He needs to go to the Acheron,” Apollo instructed.

Orthrus tilted one of his heads, eyeing Eros carefully. “Ready, my lord?”

Eros glanced at Apollo and gave him a nod of thanks. “I appreciate the help, even with everything that’s happened between us.”

“Don’t worry, I still think you’re an asshole. You’ll always be a malaka to me.”

“That’s reassuring,” he muttered.

He started walking, the giant hound pacing beside him. “How far away is the Acheron?”

One of Orthrus’s heads looked one way, while the other turned in the opposite direction, both scanning the surroundings. “It’s not that far, my lord,” Orthrus rumbled. “I am able to cut through the Underworld, so it won’t be much of a trek.”

“Nice trick,” Eros commented.

“Well, I have to get to parts of the Underworld quickly,” Orthrus explained. “I’ve picked up a little magic of my own.”

Eros nodded absently, but his mind was elsewhere, lost in thought. He kept walking, his footsteps slow and steady, but his thoughts were anything but calm. He wondered why Psyche had to be involved in this. It wasn’t fair to her. She was already dealing with so much, and now this?

Guilt gnawed at him. He hated that she had been dragged into his mess, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that if it weren’t for him, none of this would’ve happened. He kept his focus on the path ahead, but his heart ached, wondering how he could fix everything.

They came up to an area that felt darker than any place Eros had ever been. The air was thick with an oppressive silence, and the shadows seemed to stretch unnaturally. The ground beneath their feet was barren and cracked, a strange aura of punishment hanging in the air. The atmosphere felt like it was pressing in on him from all sides.

“I cannot go any further, my lord,” Orthrus said, his heads lowering slightly as if sensing the same heaviness in the air.

Eros raised an eyebrow, glancing around at the foreboding landscape. “What is this place?”

“It is the Fields of Punishment. You have to go through it to reach the Acheron River.”

Eros braced himself for what he was about to face. “Of course,” he muttered under his breath, “Why would it be easy?” He let out a frustrated sigh, cursing the Greek gods and their never-ending tests.

He knelt beside Orthrus, the massive hound’s two heads looking at him with attentive eyes. Gently, he reached out and petted them, each one responding with a soft rumble of approval.

“Thank you, Orthrus. You’ve been a good companion, even though I wasn’t one to you.”

Orthrus’s heads inclined slightly, a hint of respect in his eyes. “You have a heavy load, my lord. I am happy to be of service.”

With a final pat on Orthrus’s head, Eros straightened, his muscles tensing with anticipation. He took a deep breath and stepped into the Fields of Punishment.

The moment his foot crossed the threshold, an unnatural wind howled through the air, carrying with it whispers of agony and rage. The shadows twisted, forming into figures—souls condemned to suffer for eternity. Their hollow eyes locked onto him, their mouths stretching into twisted, hungry grins.

The first came fast—a towering man with chains wrapped around his body, his flesh scorched and blackened from an eternal fire that burned but never consumed him. “Give me your wings,” the man rasped, his voice like crackling embers. He lunged, fire exploding from his fingertips as he reached for Eros’s back.

Eros barely dodged, rolling to the side, feeling the heat singe his arm. He turned and kicked the man square in the chest, sending him sprawling back into the flames from which he had come.

Before Eros could catch his breath, the ground beneath him trembled. A second figure rose from the dirt—a woman with hollow sockets where her eyes should have been, her nails elongated into razor-sharp claws. “I will carve out your heart,” she whispered, her voice slithering over his skin like ice. She swiped at him, nearly catching his cheek. Eros ducked and countered with a sharp punch to her stomach, but her body was like mist—insubstantial yet solid enough to attack. She clawed at his arm, drawing deep gashes, but he gritted his teeth and grabbed a loose chain from the ground, wrapping it around her and yanking it tight. She screamed as the chains glowed, dragging her back into the earth.

Panting, Eros turned, only to be met by a third figure—a skeletal wraith, its mouth split wide in a permanent grin. It held a rusted dagger, dripping with black ichor. “Trade places with me,” it hissed. “Stay, and I will walk free.” It moved too fast, slashing at his side. Pain exploded through him, but he refused to slow down. He grasped a jagged rock from the ground and drove it through the wraith’s chest. It screeched, disintegrating into smoke.

Eros’s breaths came fast, his body aching, his wounds burning. He had to get out of here. He flexed his shoulders, forcing his wings to unfurl. With a powerful leap, he took to the sky, but something was wrong—his wings felt heavier, sluggish. He couldn’t gain enough altitude.

Below him, the damned screamed and reached for him, skeletal fingers and rotting hands clawing at his legs. Some caught him, dragging him down. He kicked and struggled, beating his wings furiously, ripping free from their grasp. Pain shot through his limbs, but he pushed forward, his eyes locked on the river ahead.

The Acheron was close. He just had to make it.

A burst of wind blew past, and he flapped his wings, catching the current and propelling himself forward. The Fields of Punishment faded behind him as he finally landed on the riverbank with a heavy thud. His knees hit the ground, his breath ragged, muscles aching from the strain.

The soil felt damp and he pressed his palms into it, trying to steady himself. His body trembled with exhaustion, and for a moment, he couldn’t believe he had made it this far—without his powers, without anything but sheer will.

The river rushed past him, dark and restless, whispering in a voice that almost sounded inviting. A cruel trick. The Acheron was no ordinary river; it was a place of sorrow, carrying the burden of countless lost souls. One misstep, and he’d be pulled under like so many before him.

He tried to remember anything he had heard about the Acheron. A poem surfaced in his mind:

“One breath to cross, no more, no less,

A whispered vow, a soul’s distress.

Step too soon, the waters take,

Linger long, the shadows wake.”

It was a gamble, but he had nothing else.

Eros took the deepest breath he could, filling his lungs until his chest ached, and then dove into the river.

The cold hit him like a wall, sinking into his bones. The current fought to drag him down, but he forced his limbs to move, pushing forward, eyes scanning the murky depths. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, counting down the seconds before he’d need air.

Then—there. A glow in the distance.

He kicked hard, propelling himself toward it. The closer he got, the clearer it became. An ancient pyxis, resting against the riverbed, untouched by time. It pulsed with power, its golden surface almost hypnotic. Eros reached for it, fingers closing around the cool surface. Relief flooded him. He had it.

Then he heard it.

A song.

The sound curled around him, a whisper of longing, of promises unfulfilled. His grip on the pyxis tightened as he turned and saw her.

She was beautiful. Ethereal. Her hair drifted around her like ink in water, her eyes shimmering like the night sky. She sang, her voice threading into his mind, weaving illusions, calling him closer.

The pyxis pulsed in his arms. The siren’s eyes flickered with something—fear? Recognition? Then, in an instant, she retreated, vanishing into the dark.

Eros didn’t hesitate. His lungs burned, and his body screamed for air. He kicked toward the surface, his grip on the pyxis unwavering.

His head finally broke free of the water, and he gasped, dragging in precious oxygen. The air felt sharp in his throat, but he didn’t care. He had it.

Now, he just had to get out of the Underworld alive.

Eros got to the water’s edge and dragged himself onto the grass, his body aching with exhaustion. He barely had time to catch his breath when he saw a figure standing nearby.

Persephone.

The queen of the Underworld watched him with knowing eyes, a small smile playing on her lips. Though she was young compared to the ancient gods, she carried an ageless presence, her power woven into the very fabric of the realm she resided over with her husband, Hades. She and Eros were considered babies by the Olympians since they were born after the Titan War, but Persephone still had a few years on him.

She stepped forward gracefully and sat beside him, her hands resting lightly on her lap.

“I’m glad you got the pyxis.”

Eros let out a tired breath. “I’ve hardly had the time to be glad.”

She laughed softly, a sound that carried through the still air. “I know that pyxis holds your father’s magic. Why did you choose to get it now?”

Eros was too exhausted to think of anything but the truth. He stared at the glowing pyxis in his hands, feeling everything he had endured to reach it.

“I need it to save the woman I love,” he admitted.

Persephone smiled, her brown eyes alight with understanding. “Love is great, isn’t it?” She tilted her head. “Oh, wait. You’re the god of love and desire. You already know this.”

Eros let out a breath of a laugh, but it faded quickly. “It’s the only time I’ve felt it.”

Persephone studied him for a moment before nodding. “Well then, let’s get you back to her, shall we?” She held out her hand, her fingers glowing with the power of the Underworld.

Eros gripped the pyxis tighter, took one last look at the river, and reached for her hand.

In the next instant, they were back in the cabin. Eros rushed to the bed where Psyche was still asleep, her chest rising and falling gently with each breath. He placed the pyxis next to her, carefully arranging it on the nightstand.

Aphrodite gave Persephone a grateful nod. “Thank you for helping him.”

Persephone smiled. “It was nothing,” she replied. “The heart knows where it belongs.” With a soft nod, she disappeared with a brief, almost imperceptible wave of her hand.

Eros turned around and froze, his gaze landing on a man sitting at the kitchen table. “What the fuck is Bob doing here?” he demanded.

“Your mother went a little bit nuts, and now we’re holding Bob here,” Hephaestus grumbled from the corner of the room.

Eros raised an eyebrow, turning to his mother. “Really, Mama?”

Aphrodite didn’t look the least bit guilty. She simply shrugged. “You know how it is, darling,” she said nonchalantly.

Eros shot her a look that screamed “I can’t believe this,” but he didn’t have time to dwell on it. His attention shifted back to Bob, who was sitting in the kitchen chair, silent and wide-eyed.

The pyxis was solid and unyielding in his hands and he placed it in front of Bob. The mortal didn’t say a word, but his eyes widened even more as he stared at it.

For a long moment, the room was quiet. Eros could feel the tension building, the ache everything that had happened, and everything still hanging in the balance.