Disclaimer: It's Fanfiction
Testaments of Death
A/N: Every creature in the Underworld has a story about their master. Whether they were involved or just an onlooker, each resident will share their most memorable tale involving Hades. *Dark* CHAPTER WARNINGS: Spousal abuse, physical abuse, minor character death
Chapter 1: Panic
...
Panic knew this place. He'd rested in this forest a thousand times before, enough to call it a second home. It was safe, just like Hades' corner of the Underworld. No decrepit shrine or half-standing temple could compliment their hell more.
Every forest in the mortal world had their own way, their own smell, their own design. This woodland was just especially familiar. He knew it like the back of his demonic claw. It was a two hour walk in every direction, dark, dense... The trees were tall and full, and the occasional beam of light that would make its way passed their sharp branches shined down on the plants below and lit up the scene's colorless floor. Fog sat like a heavy blanket over most of the old man-made paths, obscuring the way back to any mortal civilization.
The ethereal stretch of trees and darkness was an unofficial domain of Hades. Any seasoned god and monster knew that. This was a place that knew fire, that knew scorched trees and suffocating smoke. Even the animals would scatter when Hades appeared, not wanting to get caught in the random torrent of destruction that followed him. Like the god himself, the woods would go from being a place of tranquility to a demonic crater of death in minutes. It's residents were always on their toes.
It wasn't kind to new faces. When someone trespassed, destruction followed. The ruler of the Underworld was a territorial being, a temperamental god that preferred to be left alone and one who despised company. Everyone knew enough to stay away... everyone except for the mortals, of course.
Dumb. Very stupid things. Panic would never understand them.
Mortals were not as perceptive as animals, though they would claim to be SO much more smarter. The floundering bags of meat would stumble their way into danger like it was their job. Even though they knew something was off about this forest, call it survival instinct, it did little to keep them away. Like so many other clear hazards here on earth, the mortals spent their time wanting to test it. Every so often, captivated by the unknown and curious about the macabre fantasy of it all, a poor dumb soul would follow the path that lead into the woods. It would usually end badly for them, no surprise. Just another haunting tale the nearby villagers could tell children.
"Move your feet! Come on- Walk! "
Panic didn't usually travel alone.
It was a once-in-a-decade occurrence when the shape-shifting minion would venture out without his chubbier companion. He didn't like to be alone. Anything could happen to someone when they were alone. The universe was full of misery and madness- scheming, vicious fake optimists and opportunists who would wait in the dark to covet the power he and his cohort had. He'd learned that from his mother ages ago. It only took a couple hundred years for him and Pain to realize they needed to choose a protector, someone to bow down to. Hades had been the obvious choice.
The day they went to him, the king of death had been calm and maybe a bit indifferent. There was no fancy deal, no shaking of hands, or lavish magical mayhem that shackled the two imps to their master. Hades simply agreed to call them his. They worked for him, they would do what he said, and in return Hades would agree to never alter them or abuse their shape-shifting abilities. They put up with a lot from their hot-headed lord, true, but they were still Pain and Panic at the end of the day... not a couple of relics trapped in a scepter, or a bag of dust witches would use to manipulate the universe.
A fair trade, Panic thought at the time, giving up his freedom to protect his existence. What a world.
"Help me!"
The minion's body lurched and swayed dangerously on the limb of a tree he'd been occupying. Screaming should be a lullaby to him now, an Underworld dweller's days were nothing but screams. Still, when that shrill cry came from the path that lead to the village, it tore through him like a beast's monstrous talons.
She cried out again- A woman, young and terribly frightened, out of breath and whimpering between every wet mess of words "Please! Anyone! Help me!"
Panic swallowed his own nervous fear and peeked over the pine's crooked limb. A large rough-looking man was stalking through the forest. Behind him he dragged a brunette lady, yanking on her hair, pulling her further into the forest. The woman stumbled and gasped as she fought to keep her footing, getting closer and closer to Panic's tree.
"harlot!" the ugly man shouted over her cries "Witch! I turned my back for no more than a day and you're lifting your skirts for another man?"
He threw the beautiful woman into the dirt. Her light blue peplos, trimmed with gold and wealthy looking even for a mortal, was darkened by mud and something Panic suspected was blood.
The imp didn't think to disguise himself. He was too busy watching, body shaking with indecision.
What should he do? Should he turn his back and forget? Should he intervene? This had never happened before. Mortal's would come here to cry, they would come here with their friends to laugh, they would sing and pray and chant, but he'd never heard something like this. He didn't like it... whatever this was. He wanted it to stop.
"Did you think I'd let you get away with it, Carissa?" The man's voice, cold and sharp like a knife, was the loudest noise for miles. It was laced with a madness Panic recognized, a deadly horrible madness that reminded him of Tartarus. This poor girl, this Carissa with her long beautiful hair and delicate nose, would be snapped in two if he let the scene continue.
No, No, No, he thought anxiously. He didn't want that. Something had to be done.
The three pronged claws of his feet slid gingerly over to the edge of the branch. His idea was to get a closer look at the violent mortal before deciding what to do about him. A decent enough plan, but as Panic turned his eyes down to the rotting leaves below, he was surprised again to find another hidden presence looming 20 feet under his own hiding place...
At the base of the tree, a large shadowy figure stood watching. A grey hand with long terrifying fingers uncurled and stretched up into the sunlight and fog.
"Uugh!" Panic felt his body morph before his mind even noticed he was being summoned and he flew down from his perch to balance on his master's large beckoning hand. As a black crow, he blended the picture perfectly. Hades was nothing more than the arm of a tree, maybe having been there for centuries, sickly and horrible, waiting to snag any ounce of sunlight it could reach. Even the king's eyes were diluted by his hiding place, a dull dijon but still intense and piercing. The look on his otherworldly face was teetering just over the edge of fury. The ferocity of his expression alone made the submissive imp quake.
"It really is too bad you refused me." The mortal spat. He'd kicked dirt into the beautiful lady's face, bruised her bare arms, and laughed at her. Panic wanted to eat him alive. cocky... arrogant! no mortal should hold that much power over another.
The god of death's hand twitched under his claws. Without a word, Hades compelled him to morph again. Turquoise limbs shrank down as his torso stretched. His nose receded, eyes shining a brighter, more dangerous yellow. Two sharp fangs grew out of the roof of his mouth, so large and sharp that he would never again take for granted the ability to close his mouth.
Hissssss
This happened only on rare occasion. Hades had enough of his own power to flaunt, he didn't need to wield Pain and Panic. It was one of the many reasons Panic and his cohort had decided to bow to the volatile lord of the dead in the first place. He had use for them, but he didn't need them. They weren't an accessory, they were just on his side. So when the imp did feel himself being forced by the stronger being to change into whatever the god willed, Panic was curious enough not to fight it.
Hisssssss
He slithered along the solid grey of Hades' arm, tail wrapping securely around the muscles just below the god's sleeve. They were two dangerous creatures waiting in the dark just out of view and he'd never felt more powerful. He clicked and rattled, he hissed and spat after every count of three, but the mortal man didn't hear. Carissa lifted her disheveled head to stare in their direction, but nothing on her face gave any hint that she saw.
"Look at me, woman!" The man snarled and grabbed Carissa's dirt-smeared face. His fingers squeezed her and he shoved her head down into the grass and leaves. It was then that Hades lowered his minion to the ground.
A single dark thought filled his ears like it was coming from Mount Olympus itself. Deep, angry, and just a tad bored it said:
Get rid of 'em.
The brute was mid-sentence when he'd finally heard sound. He was in the middle of threatening the girl, shouting, lifting his fist back to strike the pretty brunette's face. Panic saw red.
HisssssSSSSSSSSS
The man stilled his hand and lifted his head. "Sh-Shhh! Do you hear that?"
The telling rustle in the leaves, a click of fangs. Another slow dangerous hiss gave him away before he lunged. The man's fingers were still gripping the poor girl's chin when the snake attacked. The mortal man screamed. Blood spilled out, staining the light blue of Carissa's elegant clothes.
Carissa was screaming again too, but this time it was Panic's fault. It was Panic she was afraid of. For some reason, that truth made him feel sick.
Hissssss
Looking like some beast out of a bloody horrific nightmare, the snake slithered to the other side of the clearing and stared Carissa down. Her brown eyes, filled with tears, were staring fearfully into his own demonic yellow. What a sight he must be: a brightly colored band of death poking up out of the ground to torment her. She hiccuped and froze, holding her hands up. Humph! as if they would be enough to stop whatever she thought the snake might do.
"He- Help- Help me" she whispered into the empty clearing.
Across from him, watching from the shadows just behind the beautiful woman's back, was Hades. He hadn't moved an inch from his quiet place in the dark. The look on his face was neutral, arms down by his sides, and fists clenched. Panic quirked his small head to the side and turned his attention back to the woman. Hades had demanded the minion "get rid of 'em" clearly meaning both the man and Carissa. Did he want Panic to kill her too?
The turquoise reptile slithered closer to her still, holding his immortal breath when he wove between the rocks and dirt to near her face. They stared at each other, Carissa and the minion, until he saw his master extend that grey fearsome hand again.
Pulled by an invisible force, Panic jerked away and retreated. His body made haste slithering back to the safety of his master's shadow. The women watched him go, eyes wide and unbelieving. She must have seen the god there in the dark, must have seen the way the minion transformed back into a crow that sat on the tall, dark, imposing figure's shoulder, but her expression remained the same. Carissa only stared, looking as if her eyes were seeing through them.
That's the last Panic saw of her.
Not a blink and a half later, he was in the Underworld's throne room. A rush of hot and cold made him shiver. Swirling blue stones replaced overgrown pine. The floor they were standing on was made of stone, swept by Panic himself not three days prior.
It took him a moment to ground himself. His black feathers were standing on end, fluffed and puffed up in all the confusion. He let out a surprised yelped and hopped from Hades' shoulder onto the arm of his throne just as the god fell into his seat.
"Mortals." Hades grumbled and ran an uncharacteristically gentle hand over Panic's fluffy black feathers. "Well done, Panic."
The minion balked and blinked, too taken aback to move.
Well done? What did he do?
...
A/N: Next Chapter: Charon