Page 13 of His in the Dark

PERSEPHONE

I stare up at Hades, waiting for his expression to change… for something to change. Tension lingers in the air between us. These souls—these mortals—they get a second chance. What about the Gods? Do they ever get a second chance? I wish I had the power to go back. I wish any God had that power.

Swallowing thickly, I wait.

I do not wring my fingers together, but I want to. The strength in Hades’s touch feels barely restrained. If he wanted, he could take me to the bed and have his way with me, and I would be powerless.

Surprised by my thoughts, I ignore the shiver of desire that moves through me at the idea of being powerless.

It’s not right for me to feel that. I am powerless. I am still a captive in chains. Yet it is his hands that stay in my mind, just as his hand is on my chin.

Touch me. He must be thinking it, given his offer of the guards…

“Come,” he says, and walks to the door. The two guards who came with him follow without hesitation. The small hairs on the back of my neck stand as I glance at the men. I can barely look them in the eye. Especially the guard who dared to speak and offer himself. What a fool, a voice in the back of my head hisses, but I ignore that darkness. I ignore the shadows. What lurks there brings out the worst in me.

I stare at Hades and can’t move.

“What?” I manage to say, my throat gone dry with the shock.

Hades turns his head. “ Come , my queen.”

A blush rises to my cheeks and I stand, only now noting the chill has dimmed with Hades in the room. I hurry to catch up with him. I didn’t expect him to offer to take me out of his chambers. My mind races with thoughts of why. What did I do that made him think he could let me out? Perhaps he's only taking me to the hallway. Perhaps this is only a trick meant to confuse me. To taunt me with his power. But my heart leaps excitedly into my throat anyway. Racing, beating hard and trying to keep up with every little thought and every little possibility.

Once I am at Hades’s side, he puts his hand at the small of my back. Goosebumps rise and I nearly shiver at his heated touch. It takes everything not to gasp. The guards follow us as he sets a fast pace, moving down the hall.

I keep myself poised, but alert. Perhaps the magic of chains does not follow. I wish I could test such things without Hades noticing. Glancing again to my left and right, flanked by the two guards, I think better of attempts of escape.

At least for now.

As our footsteps echo in the halls of silence, I take in the surroundings so different from Olympus.

I knew I was in his realm, the Underworld, but the size of the land of the dead only becomes apparent when we leave what must be his bedchambers. Every window carves out cities of souls. Lights and noise from the distance that travels and doesn’t seem to end. As we take a spiral staircase down, I’m given more and more views of so much of what has only been stories.

Every corner of the Underworld houses different souls of different fates. From the unfortunate to those who live in abundance. From the Gods and heroes to those who are damned and those in between. Ones who suffer with loss for a thousand years in the fields of mourning, to those souls simply living in peace now that their human lives have ended.

I cannot imagine the depth of Hades’ reign. So much to control. So many souls to judge.

In the back of my mind, I think, so much cruelty defined as just.

After a long, quiet tour, we walk down a cobblestoned path lined with dark blooms that leads us to the front of his castle.

“This path,” I say, pulling one question from the ocean of others in my mind. It feels different here. It feels familiar. “Is it—what is it?”

“It is the path by which we see the realm,” Hades says. It must not be real the way mortals think of real , but it is here nonetheless. I have the sense that the Underworld is vast—far more vast than I’d realized—and that the only way to travel its lengths is by this path.

As we walk, Hades holds out his hand to gesture at a place brimming with greenery and sunlight.

“Elysium,” he says. “The souls of heroes dwell here. Demigods and great mortals as well.” In the far distance, I can see houses. A town, perhaps. Wide streets with people crossing this way and that. “They may return to Earth, if they choose.” I flinch at such a thought.

A glimmering sea appears, and another lush outcropping of green.

“The isle of Achilles,” Hades says, hardly glancing at it. “And Odysseus. That is where they dwell.”

After a few more minutes, we cannot see the green fields from the path any longer. Instead, when Hades gestures, it’s into caverns, so dark I cannot see where they end. Fire brims from outcroppings in those caverns, molten and hot as it lands.

Large shadowy figures in the shadows cry out, their voices like rocks scraping against one another. Something drags and clinks. Metal chains? A chill flows down my spine and my eyes widen with alertness.

“The Titans,” Hades says, tone dismissive. “Old gods that Zeus and I overthrew. They dwell in Tartarus with all those who rebel against the guards.”

Zeus. The mention of my father brings back other emotions along with the acknowledgment of my predicament. I do my best to cover the feelings and focus on his statement. The Titans… I know all about the Titans from my father’s stories. May they suffer for eternity. All but Hecate of course.

I want to turn my eyes away from the prison. “In the dark? In chains?”

“They suffer for all eternity,” Hades says. “Eternal hunger. Eternal thirst. They are broken on an eternal wheel. Their flesh burns without ceasing.”

I swallow hard, sweat pricking on my forehead.

Light appears on the path ahead of us. “But,” I begin, thinking of my faithful friend and her worship. “Hecate.”

“Not Hecate,” Hades agrees. “Hecate has access to all the realms and retains power under Zeus.”

Mother of Witches, Queen of Ghosts, Keeper of Keys and Crossroads, Hecate is the only Titan to rule after the wars. As she should.

Never have I met her, but often I think of her as Mother.

It is not sunlight we step into as we leave Tartarus behind, but a gray, cloudy sky. It is not raining, though the air is heavy with drops yet to fall. It is the light of a stormy afternoon, one where the sun will not come out from behind the clouds, but will set into darkness without ever brightening the fields below it.

“The Fields of Mourning,” Hades says, his voice softer. “Those who took their own lives dwell here.”

“All of them?” I question. I’ve heard the tales and I have questions. But I do not know the details and in my curiosity, I must ask. These thoughts concern me.

“The ones who could no longer bear the sadness of a lost love.”

Nodding slightly, I attempt to understand.

“Will they be alright?” I have to ask.

“In time,” Hades responds, his dark eyes seeming to look through me in a way I have to avert my gaze.

Clearing my throat, I allow him to continue to lead me. All the while, I attempt to memorize every inch of this place and search for a way out. For the river perhaps.

The light brightens. Sun does peek out, but I cannot see where it is from the sky. The next area we pass seems hazy in my eyes, the colors deep and saturated, like jewels. Buildings with tall arches are just visible in the distance.

“The Land of Dreams,” Hades intones. “Ruled by Morpheus. He hosts souls while they dream, for he designs the dreams.”

As Hades continues to lead me, his hand steadily on my lower back, the clunk of the boots from the guards is a reminder that I too am stuck here wherever Hades deems me worthy.

We pass a large gate made of metal that gleams in the light. A tall figure in dark robes, the hood pulled up over his head, stands near the gate, hands folded. He does not look impatient in the least. A smaller figure stands next to him, shoulders hunched.

“Thanos,” Hades says. “He takes the souls to Hermes, who guides them to the entrance of the Underworld.”

The silent man merely nods. The darkness that surrounds him is uncanny and I do my best to avoid his gaze.

We leave the gate behind. A river winds through the realm, its waters moving under a current.

“The river Styx,” I say. I have heard legends of the river Styx. There is not a soul alive who has not heard those stories. It could also be a way out. A glimmer of hope rises in me and I search within myself.

Hades nods. “Charon steers the ferry, but he only transports those souls who have proper payment.”

“Payment?”

“Two coins for his services, and the soul is buried. If no payment is given, they are left to wander the shores for all eternity.”

“Two coins? As in they must be buried with them?”

“If they would like help in the afterlife.”

That does not strike me as fair, but I keep this opinion to myself.

“And once the soul crosses the river?”

Hades glances down at me. “The soul stands before three judges. They determine the soul’s place in the realm and send them along according to my governance.”

“To eternal suffering?”

“Or to eternal peace,” he adds, again glancing at me in a way that makes my soul stumble.

“What’s beyond the river?” I dare to ask, keeping my voice even.

“Death,” is all Hades answers and in his tone I swear he must know the reason I asked. I stare straight ahead, avoiding his pining gaze.

The river falls away, and we come upon more fields.

“The Asphodel Meadows. For souls neither good nor evil.” Hades’s voice is beginning to sound strained. “They may drink from the river Lethe, which washes away the memories so that the soul may be reborn.” His tone is almost one of boredom.

“Is something wrong?”

This time, when he glances down at me, there’s a certain sharp anger in his eyes. “No. Of course not.”

I look away. “This is your realm, then?”

“This is only the surface of my realm.”

I don’t know what possesses me. It could be courage, or it could be the past days feeling like an eternity of hours.

“I want to see the rest.”

To my surprise, Hades does not deny me. I push away the uncomfortable thought that I am the only one denying myself this freedom.

“Come, my queen” he says, and turns on the path.

I ignore the way he addresses me, purely grateful for the change in scenery and smitten by the questions that gather in the back of my mind. This realm is vast and orderly, so different from Olympus, so different from the Earthly realm.

I am not certain how we enter the palace, that stands tall of old stone in the distance. I only know that it’s not outside, as the path was. We walk down a long hallway instead, passing arched doorway after arched doorway.

It’s odd how the ground moves and how each corridor appears. As if space is not of what I know it to be. One step is nearly a mile.

These are the dens of heaven and hell, I think, and my heart pounds with how close they are. How visible.

My instincts are to run. These rooms are not for me. They are for those who dwell in them. I dare to peek, although something in me holds me back, something frightened.

In one of the rooms, a man tilts his head back, letting out thick, guttural moans. Along the walls are blots of ink, they move and scatter as I attempt to see them. As if they don’t wish to be seen. Perhaps they’re only for him.

“What’s happening to him?” I ask, my curiosity feeling almost filthy.

“It’s a manner of psychology, an Inkblot treatment.” Hades answers, looking in dispassionately. “For torture of pleasure.”

“Torture of pleasure?” I question, so unsure of what I’ve just heard.

He laughs, a short, knowing sound. “Yes.” Clearing his throat, he adds, “these rooms are designed for the particular soul. For they are not welcome in the other realms and require special attention.”

He takes me through the threshold of another room, and a woman approaches. In a long burgundy gown, her blonde hair braided and swaying down her back. She is beautiful, like my sister Aphrodite, and comes close to caressing my face.

I lean into her touch, unthinking, but Hades’s hand on my arm pulls me back. The woman’s touch lingers on my skin even after she’s walked away.

The room changes around her. The colors on the walls and on the bed warm, making her skin warmer as well. I blink, and she’s tangled in the sheets with a man, their mouths open and searching. He turns her over and ruts into her, his forehead leaning against her shoulder. Every bit of exposed skin glistens with how hard they’re moving together.

My nipples harden as an immediate reaction. My lips part and my brow rises.

Eventually, she collapses onto the pillows and sleeps.

I blink, and there are two more men in the room with her. The beautiful woman opens her eyes and screams. I jerk backward, but Hades is there, and his presence steadies me enough that I keep watching. With my back to his front, I stare in shock.

One of the men leans down and covers her mouth. The other?—

I can’t see what he does, or I don’t want to see, but there is blood trickling down her skin when he straightens again.

The woman wrenches free, and the first man—the one who was there in the beginning—catches her in his arms. Comforts her.

None of it seems to be a comfort. There is blood on her lips, and she lets out another shrill scream. The other two men have not stopped touching her. They’re cutting her. Hurting her.

“They wanted to play and scared you?” the first man murmurs. I do not know how I can hear him so clearly when he’s speaking into her ear.

“No,” she sobs. “I said no. He covered my mouth when I tried to scream again.”

In an instant, he viciously murders the two who harmed her. Ruthlessly, with a heavy stone in his hand, the crunch of their skulls and the screams almost muffled.

Shock keeps me still, but so does Hades grasp. Vengeance. Is this a room of vengeance?

Every time I blink, the image before me changes. It looks real, and close, as if I could reach out and touch her skin, just as she touched me. The first man leans down between the woman’s legs and pleasures her, sucking at her clit until she cries out from pleasure. Her lover. Unlike the other two.

She is comforted and loved by him so. Is this a room of heaven or hell?

The man between her legs lifts his head and gives her clit a final lave of his tongue. The woman throws her head back, sobbing, or coming. Maybe she is doing both.

He gets to his feet. “Kiss her for me, will you?” he tells another.

A fourth man materializes out of the shadows. He takes his place between the woman’s legs and continues licking her, but she doesn’t look at him.

She watches the first man, who walks calmly to the two men who had drawn so much blood.

He slaughters them. As if they were not already dead. Chokes the life out of them. One by one, they fall to the floor and lay still. My pulse is a hammer in my ears. I can hardly catch my breath. He brings them back to life, only to kill them once more.

My breathing picks up at the realization. All the while the woman is pleasured by another, watching her lover commit murder.

I notice, as if I’m coming awake for the first time, that Hades’s hand is on my shoulder.

“Is this heaven or hell?” I breathe the question and he laughs, low and pleased. “I love that you have to ask. I suppose it depends on who you are and what your soul is made of.”

I tip my face to his, lost for words and lost for thoughts. What has come over me? Something I’ve never felt before seems to rise in this room. Like magic of fate… like a piece of my soul has found something it was long searching for.

Something it didn’t know existed and yet it knew it was missing.

Hades does not push me away as I gasp. As I stare into his eyes wondering if he knows this feeling that’s come over me. Slowly, ever so slowly, he kisses me, and his mouth is the only thing that feels real. His lips hot and soft. His touch even hotter. My head goes light and my legs weak as I stand in his embrace.

It’s over too soon and I didn’t have a moment to even realize what was happening. When he releases his touch, I blame the halls. There are too many rooms, too many visions, and I cannot make sense of them.

It takes a moment for my vision to clear and for me to realize what happened.

The feelings evoked in me are visceral. They’re overwhelming and electric. I do everything I can to ignore them.

The lights flicker beyond my vision as he puts his hand to my face and kisses me deeper.

When I pull, we’re back in the hallway outside his rooms. I glance up, and one of his guards is looking at me. He meets my eyes boldly for a second or two, then looks away.

I have the sense that I’ve travelled a long way. A vast, unthinkable distance. I wobble a bit on my feet, and Hades steadies me.

“This way,” Hades says simply, leaving behind what happened as if it didn’t. My body trembles as I close my eyes and steady myself. What have I done?

I think he will leave me in his rooms, but instead he leads me down another corridor, the guards following closely, too close for my liking.

We pass through an archway that reminds me of the many caverns of heaven and hell, and I shiver as we go across the threshold. Some of the things I have seen remain vivid in my mind. Others feel more like dreams, as if there’s not enough space for my memory to hold them. There’s not enough in me to hold onto everything I’ve seen today. How does Hades do it? Lord over all of this? I watch him as we walk and wonder what occupies his mind as he ventures the halls and creates their reality.

How does Hades hold all of his realm in his mind? How does he rule over such a vast space, filled with so many souls?

I look at him out of the corner of my eye, reconsidering him.

He looks down at me, all traces of the anger he showed before gone. It is like being watched by a predator. A beast whose power is undeniable, and whose rule will not be questioned. My pulse ticks up at the thought that I’ve already questioned him in more ways than one.

“These are the baths,” he says, and gestures just as he did when he was showing me the Underworld. The hot springs are undeniably tempting. The smooth rock and falling waters that steam call to me. The scent of lavender and something else waft to me, drawing me in and calming me before I’ve even touched the hot waters. Beyond them, the raw cliffs of sparking quartz and pyrite shimmer… there’s not an ounce of greenery though. No life present, only mother Earth in her raw form of stone.

“Bathe. You may take as much time as you wish.” With the command given, he turns and walks out. A gesture at one of the guards has him following Hades away from the baths. The other guard keeps his eyes on the floor and goes to station himself near the door. Closing them and giving me privacy for the first time since we’ve left. The only sounds are my own beating heart and the soothing waters.

Time passes and I stand in wonderment. I turn toward the baths. The pale pink of the salts that wall in the baths shines through a dim light. Creating a calming and soothing feel. The divine oils, scrubs and soaps sit on a gold intricate tray at the right and just behind the tray lay a pile of lush towels and washcloths beside them. Across an elegant gold chair with rolled arms and a high back, lies a silk cream gown.

There is not just one bath . There are many pools of inlaid quartz stone and clear water. Some of them bubble. Others have steam rising from them. Vaguely I think of my sister Aphrodite. She would adore these baths. Deep in my heart there is a longing, but one that for some reason feels touchable, if only I wanted.

I will not be able to deny myself this.

I’ve been so cold, and it seems like I’ve been cold forever. At the side of one of the pools, I stop and dip my toes in.

The water is deliciously warm. It feels like the sea heated under the sun all day, and even standing at the edge, all my muscles relax as if I’m already submerged.

I remove my gown after what feels like an eternity. It slides over my shoulders before I’ve made any conscious decision to give in.

All I know is that I need to be in the water, cleansing myself of the fear and the desperation that came over me. I need the water to wrap around me with its warmth, touching me everywhere and clearing my head of what I have seen.

I step into the water, a sigh escaping me. The visions—or memories—will not last long. The sensation of the warm water holds too much pleasure and relief.

Most of what remains from the tour fades almost immediately.

What does not fade is Hades. His kiss. His touch. Vaguely I remember the river, although it seems much less like an escape now. What lies beyond it is surely not something I wish to see. Instead, as I attempt to organize my thoughts, I think of Hades.

I tip my head back, letting the water soak into my hair, and look at the ceiling high above me as I trail my fingers through the water. It’s the perfect temperature to soak in—hot, but not painfully so. It is exactly what I’ve craved.

Almost what I’ve craved.

I would like to take my time but scratching in the back wall breaks the moment. Almost like a cracking. I bring my hand to my chest, startled and unsure of what I’ve heard. In the silence, the soothing waters murmur, and I cannot hear the sound again. But I swear I heard something, what it is, I’m not sure.

Quickly I dress and search for Hades, only to find him right outside the doors.