Asterius never knew kindness. He was the monster no one wanted, the one that didn't ask to be created. A prisoner of the labyrinth, forced to rely on human lives to live off of, everyone believed that he wanted to consume people.
When he was slain by Theseus, the Demigod, he didn't expect any glory in death. Poseidon caused his cursed existence, and then his son ended it. Tartarus was just as good a prison as the labyrinth.
For many years, he had learned to be satisfied with his fate. He mostly kept to himself and wandered the dark, stone halls of hell.
Then one day, he was called before Lord Hades. Perhaps he had been issued a punishment. It didn't matter to him.
The God of the Dead was a towering man in black robes, sitting on a throne made of diamonds and rubies. His deep, rumbling voice echoed across the massive, golden hall. He had never been to this part of the Underworld, but he figured he wouldn't have long to sightsee.
Tapestries depicting great heroes were draped across every wall. Asterius was shocked to see his own likeness on the wall, falling to Theseus. The bitter reminder drew his mind back to the present. "Bull of Minos, you have been issued a summons," Lord Hades said.
He was ready for pain and busting rocks, and turned to go. "Where are you going?"
Asterius was still grasping human speech and groaned out an explanation, "there is no point on putting off my fate."
Hades red eyes glared into the bull's soul, "I'm afraid this particular vocation calls for more formality. You have a long way to travel."
There had been a mistake. There was a lower plane for monsters, that must be it. Asterius felt a burning frustration, such that he had forgotten to feel for a long time. "Charon will escort you to Elysium. Gather whatever belongings you may have."
Asterius didn't know whether to ask if there was a mistake or mention that he had no belongings not already on his person. He decided it would be best not to question Lord Hades. "I am ready to depart, Sir."
A spirit dressed in purple robes and cobalt armor led him to Charon's ferry. The boatmaster stood at the helm, silent, solemn.
They went up the river Phlegethon and eventually merged into the Styx. When the water melded into the purple of Archeron, Asterius knew they were close. He had never seen the beauty of the Underworld: the flowers of Hades, the sculpted granite statues, precious stones on every wall, and strange fish glittering in the river. All he dwelt among after death was crumbling stones, drifting ash, and rough pathways. Even Asphodel had an element of beauty he had missed in the depths.
When they came to the river Lethe, he saw the majesty of Elysium. It was bright, and crystal clear waterfalls and pools spread far and wide. Golden statues and ornate staircases boasted of wealth. It was full of color. The air was sweet.
A man in a shiny, ice blue gladiator's uniform tousled his golden locks amidst the ethereal white light. He had stolen Apollo's grin and tanned muscles made him look like a Greek statue. Blue jade clung to his every garment. He stuck a hand out towards the boat and with a jaunty, confident voice, almost shouted, "hello, Bull of Minos! Pleased to make your acquaintance once again!"