Prologue
The dark eyes of Lord Hades snapped open, long before the disturbing sound reached his ears. Long ago, he had become connected to the Underworld – the realm had intertwined itself with his very soul eons ago, had become as much a part of him as the heart which beat beneath his chest. He was in tune with it, sensing each occurrence which roused itself in its dark, shaded depths. He had learnt the natural rhythms of this feared place; the creaks and groans which meant normality, a relative peace in the home of the dead. The sound which woke his rare slumber was not such a noise. It was a cry of something new, of a flare of danger within the seemingly endless halls of his domain. His home was in distress – and, within moments, the god was upon his feet, racing with an instinctive sense of purpose towards the source of such trouble.
The Elysian Fields.
It was not often he ventured there. Perhaps it was the souls that occupied it, the long dead heroes which lived their lifeless days in paradise. Hades held the firm belief that many of them did not deserve it; he was a man that spent most of his days listening to the cries and torments of the recently departed. He heard the struggles of mothers, who had passed without ensuring the safety of their children; common men who had perished at the hands of disease and famine. The King of the Underworld had since developed the firm belief that bravery was found in the struggles of the everyday, of the hopeless courage found in the poor and needy – not, in fact, within the souls of mindless 'heroes', who usually dragged just as much pain and suffering in their arrogant wake as they did success. Perhaps such ignorance too often reminded him of his brothers.
Nevertheless, it was not the dead which was causing him trouble on this night. Instead, there was something deeper – something wrong which took root within the very core of the ground beneath them, a shifting in the surface which had always stood so firm beneath him. He may not have always revelled in the realm he had been dealt with so long ago, but he always appreciated how little it changed. The walls of his castle were the same as the day they had first been erected, the flow of souls just as it had always been. Now, though, there was something new arising: where the glowing Elysian Fields had once stood proud and perfect, there was something different within its midst. A crack, harsh and merciless, had begun to show itself between the blades of grass. Plus, there was that smell: something putrid, consuming. It was a scent he no longer noticed in this world, though in this moment it was more distinct than he had ever recalled it… decay.
"Hecate! Thanatos!" The King called, and the voice of a ruler echoed throughout the depths of his realm. Within moments, he could sense the nearing of his fellow immortals – and then, the beating of a pair of wings. Thanatos arrived first, landing from his flight just beside his commander, face twisting at the stench which greeted his arrival. Seconds later, a more leisurely Hecate arrived, her pale skin glistening beneath the unusually bright light of the hero's paradise. She, too, was quick to inspect the hideous crack which had made its formation beneath their feet, pressing a cold palm to the rotting remains of the flowing fields. No one spoke, for a while, all three of them taking in the sight before them. They may be his subjects, his to command, but a mutual respect had long ago grown between the three deities. They were all of distinct power, and of distinct wisdom – but neither one of them knew, exactly, how to begin with such a problem.
"My Lord," Hecate was the first to speak, her voice deep with thought, as always. She knelt down closer to the foliage at their feet, running a fingertip over an asphodel bloom, which wilted away at her touch. "This… This cannot be. This land, this precious place, it has always been protected. The dead may roam here, but the grip of death was never supposed to touch the ground upon which they stood. Even the Underworld has never been truly lifeless." She rose, with the clanging of the jewellery at her wrists, the shifting of the dark fabrics which covered her form. "This is a problem, My King. No realm can survive without even a slither of life – not even one designed for the breathless. This crack… this is just the beginning. You must feel it, too, a decay which threads much further than a few fields of grass."
"I feel it." This time, it was Thanatos who spoke. The winged god was rarely seen so serious, but a threat to his home was not something he took lightly. He took a step backwards, allowing him to widen his vision of the great source of their problem. "The Elysian Fields have been here, for as long as my existence has allowed me to remember. Do you think, perhaps, even paradise can grow tired of housing the dead?" The tall figure shook his head, removing the expression of disdain with little effort. As quickly as his sadness had appeared, did his hopefulness return – for a god who spent so much time amongst the darkness of the dead, he had always managed to keep a hold of something so pure, in a way most other residents of the Underworld had not. Hades had always admired him for it. "Nonsense. I am certain this problem is merely temporary. We can fix it, can we not? Stop this decay from spreading. You must know a way, Hade- My Lord." He corrected himself, quickly, with a sheepish grin. Formalities were never his strong suit.
Hades had remained silent for the entirety of their discussion, instead too consumed by his solemn thought to think of speaking. Only now, with both pairs of watching eyes upon him, did he return to the present. There were few times he truly loathed his position of power, but occurrences like this were such times – the occasions those he ruled turned to him for answers, and he found himself with none. His jaw set with a look of grim self-doubt, moving with a slow pacing to turn away from the frantically searching eyes that targeted him. "If I knew a way, I would not have called you here." The god snapped, his anger flaring as it always did, when he felt himself unworthy of his responsibilities. Immediately, though, he sighed – his temper was a beast he was constantly battling, but he knew Thanatos and Hecate were not the correct sources to release such emotion. It was himself he should be angered with, what sort of a King was he? "My apologies. What I mean to say is, that such a problem is unheard of.
"My kingdom, this Underworld, has stood for eons without movement. There has been no sudden change, no issue to cause such a rift within my realm. But, even now, I feel it. This… strange decay, which is grasping its fingers throughout my walls, my home. How ironic, that the downfall of the realm of the dead may be death itself." He released a bitter, hollow laugh, the dark smirk sticking to his lips even as he turned to face the horror filled face of Thanatos.
"You- You mean you can't fix this?"
"You do not understand. This realm is a part of me, another limb. The Underworld has been dying for some time. It has always been doing so – an endless cycle of decay. Death is the only home for the dead, after all. But, this… this is a new stage. For centuries, the structure of this world below has stood strong, had allowed itself to become at one with its subjects. But the Elysian Fields have always been different. It is one of the few places which has ever allowed plants to grow, flowers to bloom. The decay of these plains means something darker is at work here. That the Underworld is changing – and not for the better."
Hades was painfully aware of the implications to the problem of which he spoke. He cursed himself for not noticing, for not spotting such an issue until now. How could he be so foolish? But, his realm was changing, and there was no point dwelling on his ignorance for now. This was a fault he would punish himself for later. For now… he had other worries. His mind briefly cast thought to Tartarus, to the monsters and brutes which were held captive there. To the Titans – the old gods and goddesses who had been trapped within that horrific prison for their crimes. The bars which had always held against them so strongly, were feeling their first ever moment of weakness. The thought of Cronus, his father, released from the flaming pits of his punishment, caused Hades more terror than he would care to admit – even if he knew Hecate caught the flicker of fear within his guarded eyes.
"I may be ruler here, but there is only one way to amend this problem." The King gave a blank look toward his advisors, hiding the true dread that had settled in his icy heart. "Not even a god of my power can bring life to these fruitless soils. Life has finally, truly, left this kingdom as it always wished to. The few breaths of being have finally given up on us. There is no god, beast, nor mortal alive which can restore what we have lost. A solution is not what we must think of… defences are our only cause of action, now."
He had not expected the expression of amusement which appeared in the black eyes of Hecate, nor the melodious laughter that escaped from her so effortlessly. She was mocking him at a time such as this? The anger threatened to reappear once more, but he was cut off by a gentle hand being placed at his tensed shoulders, a chuckle which once again took him by surprise. "Oh, Aidoneous. You have always been so cynical." Her voice was a melody, enticing as he had always known it. All heads in a room had always turned to her, the moment a silky word exited her lips – both for the wondrous spell of the sound of her tone, and for the wisdom all knew to be held within each sentence. Even Hades was not immune to that. "I would think a King should not give up on his kingdom so easily. You may be right, no god can ever restore the life which has been lost to these plains. But, what of a goddess?" A wise smile appeared at her thin mouth, almost sarcastic. For once, he did not care to bring up the fact she should not so carelessly make humour of her ruler. He was too intrigued at this idea.
"You mean you can restore life here?" Hope was a feeling he was not accustomed to. It felt foreign within him, slowly creeping its way through the dullness of his mind. Hope was an emotion for fools – but that did not stop him from feeling it, no matter how hard he resisted.
"Me? No. Not even my magic can accomplish such a deed. I can maintain the Elysian Fields as they are now for some time, delay the onslaught of destruction that is destined - for a while. Enough time for our true saviour to appear."
Thanatos was wide eyed now, managing to slip in the question that was on both his and Hades' mind like an excitable child. He had always adored Hecate's stories. "Who, my lady? Who can fix this?"
"Now, of course, that would be telling." The goddess of magic smirked, finding amusement in Hades' irritable sigh. "But, you may rest assured the pieces shall put themselves in the right places. And, you, my King – you have a party to attend. I'm afraid if you wish to save your realm, you will once again have to brave the court of Olympus. That is where our last hope will be found."
For a moment, the idea of allowing the beasts of Tartarus to roam free seemed appealing. Just a moment.
A/N: Hello anyone who happens to stumble upon my story! Please let me know if you like what you've read so far! This story is going to be quite a shift from the greek myth as we know it, but I hope you can still enjoy it :)