Page 6 of Queen to the Sunless Court (Brides of Myth #2)
The Court of Hades
Calliste
Hypnos circled over the palace before landing smoothly in a courtyard, allowing her to step down.
Towering gold walls and columns loomed overhead, glowing like sunrise against the black vaulting of the Underworld. She inhaled the sweet, fragrant air—a scent she couldn’t quite name, mellow and with a hint of honeysuckle.
“This way,” Hypnos chose one of the tall, arched entryways carved with intricate black vine leaves.
She followed him in awe through the vaulted corridor, its black marble threaded with golden veins. Despite its opulence, the decor was far from gaudy and closer to understated, and also very uniform—just black and gold.
She bit her lip, trying not to dwell on the fact that she’d soon face one of the most feared and isolated gods. Perhaps it would not be for an interrogation, but still—it was Hades, the Unseen One.
As she rounded the corner, her steps slowed at the unexpected burst of iridescence in the breaks between towering black columns: a magnificent garden with a pond, hidden in the inner courtyard of Hades’ palace.
Dazzling purple orchids, festive blue hyacinths, golden calendulas and orange poppies crowded the space, humming with colors. “Oh, this is… marvelous.”
Hypnos barely glanced at it. “Persephone’s garden. It’s frozen now.”
Calliste squinted. It took her a moment to notice that the bright butterflies perched on the flowers were utterly still, and the pond’s water was motionless like a mirror. “Frozen? How?”
“I should say: suspended in time. Only Persephone can coax these flowers into blossoming here, but she’s in the mortal realm now, with her mother.
Hades cannot stand the idea of them wilting, so he created a sphere where time is paused.
Her garden will remain like this until she returns to the Underworld to nurture them again. ”
Only then did she notice a translucent, pearly orb enclosing the garden and recall the story retold for centuries: how eons ago, Kore, the goddess of Spring, was abducted by Hades to eventually become his wife and the queen of the Underworld—after Hades agreed she would return to her mother Demeter for part of the year.
As Demeter celebrated her daughter’s return, spring and summer flourished in the mortal realm, only to fade as Persephone left her to resume her duties as the queen of the Underworld again.
To her, Hades had always been a formidable god dwelling in the shadows of his gloomy realm. And yet. “He… stopped time so his wife’s flowers wouldn’t die?” She couldn’t tear her eyes away from it.
“Correct,” replied a new voice, distinct from all the immortal voices she had heard so far—masculine, yet light and ethereal.
The god who emerged from the corridor bore such a striking resemblance to Hypnos that she had to look twice to ensure that Hypnos still stood where he was a moment ago.
His wings were white and iridescent. His hair was fair, with defined curls down to his shoulders.
Like Hypnos, he wore a crown of flowers, but his seemed like white nacre roses.
When he smiled—and his smile was dazzling—his turquoise eyes with flecks of silver lit up, illuminating everything around him with brighter colors.
“I’m Morpheus. Pleased to meet you in person, Priestess of Epione. ”
She stared, captivated, until he chuckled and nodded at Hypnos.
“I’m his son. Hence the resemblance.”
Calliste glanced at Hypnos. “You never told me…”
Morpheus’ smile faded a little. “You don’t like mentioning your mistakes, do you, Father?”
“Hades is awaiting us,” Hypnos said to Calliste and motioned her to keep going.
“He’s in his library.” Morpheus countered, smoothly moving to Calliste’s other side and falling silent.
She couldn’t resist stealing glances at Morpheus as they turned another corner and arrived at the golden door, which Morpheus pushed open, nodding for her to follow him inside.
The library welcomed her with the distinctive dry scent of countless scrolls, meticulously arranged on endless stacks of narrow shelves that climbed to the high ceiling. The light streaming through the tall, arched windows seemed to sparkle overhead.
Her eyes widened at the black marble ceiling, encrusted with constellations of diamonds that twinkled like the stars in the summer night sky, with other jewels inlaid to mimic distant celestial bodies.
Then she noticed the profound silence.
Morpheus had stepped to her side, revealing an immortal seated at the head of the long table, his back to the arched window, his eyes fixed on her.
They were as black as anthracite, matching his thick beard and short-cropped hair. He wore no crown or any other insignia of his station. A luxurious black robe draped loosely over his frame, gleaming at the creases, hinting at his powerful build, and there could be no mistake about who he was.
Hades, the ruler of the Underworld and the Receiver of Many, with Thanatos seated to his left.
“So, you are the brave Priestess of Epione investigating the irregularities in my realm,” Hades said in a voice that was neither as cold as Thanatos’ nor as mellow as Hypnos’, but rich and resonant, flowing like liquid gold—fitting for the wealthiest god.
“And you nearly lost your life in the process. Welcome, Calliste.”
She bowed, fear like a cold lump in her throat as she grappled with how to address him. Then her gaze caught flowers in the window behind him, where Persephone’s garden lay frozen in time, its vibrant colors locked in an undying, pearlescent vacuum.
He might have been one of the fearsome gods… but he was also a husband who missed his wife.
She met his eyes without flinching. “It’s an honor to be your guest, Unseen One.”
His features softened as he smiled and there was nothing fearsome about him anymore. He leaned over and pulled back the chair closest to him. “Take a seat, Priestess.”
She did, momentarily captivated by the glistening surface of the table: midnight-blue and veined with gold, its marbled pattern alive beneath the luster.
The fine golden lines shifted like gentle waves, occasionally breaking apart into grains of shining sand before merging again.
For a heartbeat, she watched it in fascination, then settled into her seat.
Hades’ gaze flickered to Hypnos. “You, too. I want both accounts. Morpheus, join us.” He nodded at the god of visions, who took the seat next to Hypnos. “Let’s hear it,” Hades said, leaning back in his chair, finger pressed against his lips. “Tell me exactly what happened in the Roots.”