The Dead Chronicles: Children of the Unseen One
This will be the final story in 'The Dead Chronicles' series. If you haven't read the others, I suggest going back to 'Our Lady of the Underworld' to begin the series. Thank you to all those who have read all three stories and leave me reviews; I have loved all of your suggestions and encouragement! For those of you who are avid fans of Greek mythology you will notice that I stretch the original myths further with every story in this series. Sadly, there is not much written about Hades's children or what happened once Persephone was secure on her throne. I hope that you will still enjoy my interpretation of the Underworld and all of the myths that surrounded it.
Deep in the Underworld Macaria sat uncertainly on her father's horse. Her posture was perfect but she was holding back shivers of fear. The midnight-black stallion was still under Hades's stern gaze. She was certain that it could sense her trepidation but dared not upset her father.
"He's higher than I thought," she admitted, adjusting the reins in her hands.
Macaria appeared to be somewhere in her late teens rapidly approaching young adulthood. Her features were very much like her mother – soft eyes, warm skin and a girlish figure. Only her long black hair tied neatly to her waist was reminiscent of her father.
Hades watched her without concern.
"Lead him for a gentle walk first. He will acknowledge his mistress."
Macaria nodded and coaxed the dead beast forward. It nickered once but obeyed, its fiery temperament soothed by her soft words and decisive touch. After a few cautious minutes, Macaria began to smile.
"He's not so bad on his own," she remarked, as the stallion turned for her in a wide arch. Hades also gave his characteristic half-smile at her growing confidence.
"They are all spirited when in the air and carrying my chariot, I assure you."
Macaria took the stallion on a slow, steady trudge along the trail that ran around the House of Hades. She waved to the servants attending to the gardens on the shores of the River Styx. She called a greeting to Charon as he hefted him load of Shades along the waterway in his boat. She rode closer to the Hall of Judgement and greeted her mother.
"Mum! Mum! Look!"
Persephone clapped her hands and gave her a beaming grin. Beside her, Hecate applauded the princess of the Underworld. Macaria laughed and blushed.
"You look wonderful sweetheart," her mother cried back as Macaria continued forward. "Just like your father."
Macaria ducked her head to hide her face as she beamed with pride. She adored her sweet, beautiful mother with all her heart. Persephone was gentleness personified, full of understanding and endless grace. She thought her mother was the prettiest goddess ever (although she was careful never to voice this thought aloud in case Hera or Aphrodite heard her) and Macaria was forever trying to emulate her elegant manners. Demeter too was always a vision of splendour for Macaria – full of sunshine and the promise of joyful spring. Demeter came to the Underworld sometimes and told Macaria stories of Zeus's realm which the obedient princess listened to, even if they didn't much interest her. Sometimes as the Triple Goddesses sat together and enjoyed each other's company (Persephone, Demeter and Hecate) Macaria would just drink in the sight of them and feel dwarfed by their beauty and majesty.
But above all, it was her father that held court in her heart. He and Macaria were so alike in so many ways that Persephone sometimes teased them by calling them her twins. Hades endlessly fascinated Macaria and she knew that she adored him with every fibre of her being. He knew almost everything, he was ridiculously powerful, he worked hard as master of the Underworld, he was just, he was patient and best of all, he looked after his daughter at every opportunity. Hades liked to challenge her with tasks for the realm. Macaria gladly rose to the occasion to win his approval and catch his smile. She had inherited his cool disposition, his logical mind, his passion for hard work and his intellect.
The two goddesses waved Macaria on. In Zeus's realm, only two years had passed since Macaria's birth. She was maturing very quickly, as her father had. Soon she would cease visibly aging and obtain her divine visage as a young woman.
Macaria urged the horse into a trot to return to her father's House. Hades was there waiting, a servant quickly muttering in his ear. Macaria didn't need his help to dismount although the stallion was enormous; she touched the shadows and let them help her down. To anyone watching, Macaria appeared to be swallowed in black smoke and then suddenly, she was on the ground, holding the horse's head in both of her soft hands.
Hades nodded his approval as he approached her. Macaria stroked the stallion's nose.
"When did you learn that skill?"
Macaria stood tall and a servant led the stallion away.
"I watched you do it," she answered honestly. "I got the hang of it yesterday."
Hades held out his arm and grinning, Macaria took it. Her father was much taller than she was but she could loop her arm through the crook of his elbow if he dropped it low enough.
"Beautiful and more talented every day," he mused as, arm in arm, they returned to the House. "Soon you will be ready to enter your own principality."
Macaria blinked.
"But I thought that the Underworld was, well, complete," she stuttered. "What else..? I mean, what do you want me to be the goddess of?"
Hades tapped her on the nose, quick as thought.
"That lies between you and the Fates," he told her. "Although I may already have some inclination of what they have set out for you."
Macaria gave him an unsurprised look.
"You know everything in this realm," she implored. "Can't you just tell me what I'm meant to do?"
Hades stopped to take both of her hands and look her square in the eyes.
"You will know what the Moirae decree for you," he promised. "You will find out very soon."
The doors were opened for them by servants and Hades ensured that the stallion had been returned to his stall, adding instructions to the groom to allow Macaria to ride him when she pleased.
"He can be taken to Zeus's realm, if you choose to accompany your mother," he reminded Macaria. She thanked him but made a face.
"I would rather stay here, if you don't mind," she admitted. "There won't be anything for me to do up there."
Hades beckoned to the servants to make the parlour ready. He spread his hands in a consoling gesture to his daughter, who still looked disgruntled.
"The choice is yours, princess," he reassured her. "She will be leaving us soon."
"Only for the season," Macaria chimed in. She knew her father missed her mother terribly but he would never presume to stop her from her visits to the upper realm. It was a pattern like the seasons, something to be endured without complaint. Besides, Persephone was of the two realms and did good work in both.
"Just that," Hades agreed. He urged her in the direction of the library. It was tradition for Macaria to pick a book from the Dead Chronicles and read to both of her parents in the parlour while the King and Queen wrote their correspondence and worked. This little domestic ritual suited them all and made the three of them very close. She hurried away to choose a story for them all.
The servants each had a smile or a wave for her as she raced through the House. She was beloved by them all, especially by those servants who had resided for a long time in the Underworld and had never expected Hades to have a child. She was precious and gracious, every inch her father's daughter.
She reached the shadowy library of the Dead Chronicles. Hades had expanded his study into a new wing, where he stored volumes she could view any time she liked. Behind a silver and black door lay more volumes and her father's desk. He often kept the door closed when he needed privacy and quiet. Macaria never opened the door without his permission. She wasn't sure anyone could open the door against her father's wishes.
Macaria ignored the closed door and instead ran her fingers along the tomes she was permitted to read, feeling the cool rustle of their pages and looking for any title that managed to jump out and catch her attention. Her palm caught the cover of an enormous volume called 'The Trojan War.' There was no author listed, which was odd. Curious, she slipped the heavy chronicle from its place only to find her father's crest on the cover. Macaria flipped it open to discover Hades's neat, close hand had inscribed most of the tome. She grinned and took the volume to hold it against her chest. It was bulky and cumbersome; pages threatened to fall out.
Carefully toting her selection Macaria left the library to join her parents. She failed entirely to notice the door to her father's study was open a crack but if she had and then dared to peek inside at his desk, she would have been able to read the titan's prophecy Hades had carefully copied and taken to the Moirae, written in his distinctive style: Three children born to the King and Queen of the Dead. The first is the carrier of light that shalt never see the sun. The second shall suffer a fate worse than Death or else mark the rise of the Titans. The third shall wander with ghosts as comrades, seeking that which should not be sought.
But Macaria staggered to the parlour in blissful ignorance of her fate, not knowing enough to fear for the future set for herself and her siblings just yet.