Chapter II
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He had become the Unseen one of the Underworld. A purveyor of souls, a King of corpses and the Patron God of the Dead.
Itachi rested upon a throne of bones in an acropolis high above his kingdom, a mountain of golden coins ripped from the mouths of the newly deceased spilled around his throne and all throughout his halls.
"My Lord?"
Tired eyes slid from the grovelling man at his feet to a girl wrapped in soft white linens and braided cords.
"Ahmya."
The girl, a child barely on the cusp of womanhood, bowed low and stepped closer. "If I may, my Lord, the Messenger has come to speak to you."
A wave of his hand and the girl was gone. A nod of his head to the figure cloaked in shadows, and the pleading man was nothing more but bones so white they glowed in the candlelit hall, imprinted with teeth marks. "With the others, Eurynomos."
The clattering of skeletons drowned out the clipping of sandals on black marble floors.
Red stained eyes softened just slightly at the God with wings on his feet and wind in his hair. The Messenger smiled brightly. "Hey cousin."
"Shisui. What do I owe the pleasure?" He asked, reaching to take the goblet of cherry-red wine from the platter Ahmya held close.
Shisui took a long drink, saving the moments break from duty. "Kakashi, King of Gods, has called a bicentennial meeting." Itachi frowned. His cousin grinned. "Yes, it has been 200 years already."
He huffed. "Time moves different in the Underworld."
Shisui rolled his eyes and wandered the Great Hall, stepping over bones and gold. "Ever since the re-birth and Kakashi gave you this domain, you never leave it." He cocked his head to the side. "Don't you miss the warmth of the sun, cousin?"
Memories of burning wings and betrayal on the Sun God's lips flashed across Itachi's eyes. He shook his head.
"I hope you'll give your wife more freedom than you allow yourself." The offhanded comment was met with narrowed red eyes and a sharp intake of breath. Shisui realized his mistake too late and stuttered. "I-I mean…anyways I have to go. The Blue King wishes for me to deliver some messages and uh, see you later?"
A half-step back and the Winged Messenger was gone in a puff of wind.
Ahmya's soft laughter echoed in the hall. "It amuses me when the Gods themselves forget that when they die, it is you they will call King."
The Patron God of the Dead stood in a flourish of cloaked fabrics stained in blood and stitched with the cries of the slighted and left his kingdom with the cruelest smile on his lips.
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