The darkness engulfed Hades with its greeting. Relief relaxed his taut shoulders and, after a deep in take of breath, he trudged forwards. His cloak camouflaged him in the pitch black surroundings, though Hades could see in the dark – all deities in the underworld could – so shuffling past the jagged rocks that covered the walls of the dreaded cave wasn't an issue, nor were the millions of sharp stalagmites and stalactites that protruded profusely the further he walked through to the bleak shore. Drips of water echoed through out as they tapped and splashed the soggy earth below Hades' feet.
Glinting ahead was the dim moonlight that Hecate had designed as a guide for Hermes when he brought the dead here. Hermes was a god that belonged in the land above so his vision in the dark matched that of the blind. Though, Hermes only had to bring them to the shore of Acheron and leave the Shades to wander forwards to Styx.
Hades' mind was still deep in thought as if he were outside of his body and somewhere else entirely, like in the forest...
Persephone.
She wasn't like the other goddesses; they were seductive, mischievous and prideful: they knew who they were and how beautiful. Persephone, however, seemed to radiate warmth and beauty with a fresh sense of innocence that she clearly was unaware of. Her body was different to most of the other goddesses; Aphrodite's was slim and curvaceous; Hera's was thin and rectangular, but Persephone... She was slim all the way down to her hips, then her body protruded; curving her hips into her thighs in a powerful round shape that her dress clung too. That curve was sexy and er innocent mind guarded that aspect from her vision entirely. The seduction in the way her hips swayed, he could tell, was something she was oblivious to.
Yet her colourful bright eyes shined through the heavy dark that hung as dense gloom around her. Curiosity reflected through her eyes, brightening the forest green that ensnared Hades. Those eyes sent shivers through his body when he thought of how they'd stared him down, though she had not seen him there, nor knew of his presence as she explored.
Finally, Hades snapped out of his daydream when he heard the gentle drift of Charon's boat appearing before him. When the boat nudged the rocky edge, Hades straightened – though his stern features made him authoritative regardless of slouching or absent-mindedness.
Stepping onto the boat steadily, Hades' mind was hanging onto the angelic image of the wandering Persephone. Her curious green eyes staring at him were emblazoned across his mind. Her ginger hair seemed as if golden strands had been woven in. Her full figure seemed kind with warmth in her stance and yet she was delicately petite at the same time. Her tan skin made Hades ache with an urge to feel how smooth her body felt in his rough hands. The overwhelming desire inflamed the pit of his stomach and grew into a possessive urge for Persephone. Her touch, taste, smell. Her voice. Silky, kind and smooth. Her voice matched her walk. Not completely seductive; hinting at a naïve mind that longed for knowledge.
The River Styx wasn't like water (although it appeared so), the ripples dies fast because of the texture but, if a person were to plunge their hand into the ghastly river, the sludge would wrap itself like a python around and tug the daring mortal or deity to the bottom of the river where they would live a dark torture till death caught you in its grasp and you joined the rest of the shore. That is, if your soul could be found in time and shown the surface, or the soul had managed to wade through the river to find the dim light of the shore. Though, the bottom of Styx was so dark that no one could locate up or down, right or left once submerged by the terrifying river.
No God or Goddess would be so idiotic to touch Styx, nor had any mortal. Luckily, no mortal had been intrepid enough to try plus no mortal would dare enter the Underworld, especially as it meant facing Hades' wrath.
Sunset haunted the Underworld (day or night), the dim glow illuminated the nervous Shades, glinted off Hades breastplate and buckles (that secured his black cloak around his shoulders) and Charon's staff. It made the world he lived in easier to see all but not be blinded as he was in the world above.
Charon continued to slowly stir the sludge with his staff: another gift from Hecate. His staff was a dark mahogany that twisted at the top into a spiral cage; holding a silver crystal he uses for more guidance with the Shades (especially the Lost Souls) but silver was also entwined with the worn wood. It could be used as a weapon if needed but Charon remained mute and calm at all times. Charon never made any motion to engage in conflict, though some mortals did spread rumours of his ruthless nature yet Charon seemed too weak to fight (his skeletal form was hunched forward as he worked on the river) and his quiet nature was calm yet could be construed as menacing, especially as he stood silent, hidden behind a dark cloak that hid every inch of his frail, haggard silhouette in clumpy material.
The ripples of Styx slowly whispered past the boat and Hades stared into it's turbid depths, his mind in a distant trance between reality and Persephone.
The dreaded murky cave loomed ahead as the sunlight faded from view.
An eerie silence amplified the noise of the water splashing past every time Charon plunged his staff in; echoes of water droplets dripping from mold and moss. Hades waited quietly as he heard a low growl ahead of him.
"Cerberus," Hades whispered, a wry smile curling his lips. A quiet woof was heard in acknowledgement as the Doors of Death appeared in view.
Thanatos restrained an excited Cerberus by a chain, which scraped the rock as Cerberus attempted to pounce on his master. Yelping sadly, Cerberus remained on the shore as the river narrowed. All three heads stared up with their tongues hanging out, panting eagerly at the sight of Hades. Slobber escaped their mouth when they tried to pull forward, away from Thanatos and failing miserably.
Thanatos guarded the Doors of Death – with Cerberus – behind him. He wore a dark cloak. Similar to Charon's, yet his skeletal frame was clung to by the fabric; outlining his ribs vividly. The sharp curves of each bone was displayed distinctly for anyone to see. His face was partly hidden in the shadow of the hood. Two long slits at the back allowed his large, glossy grey wings to stretch out behind him, menacingly, gently brushing the gateway to the Underworld.
The Doors of Death were more like a veil than a door. A ghostly veil that floated and wavered in the pale light it omitted as whispers floated through. The veil managed to appear as dark, light and transparent all at once. No one could ever be sure of what they saw when looking directly at it; as if it were different to each individual yet still blind and deaf to what the veil was trying to show and say.
When Hades looked at it, he was still unsure of what was being shown to him but he knew what the whispers were; prayers and woes of the mourning and the dying. Begging for forgiveness, praying for the care of the departed, or simply (and more rarely) enunciate revenge.
The veil was Hecate's sorcery but designed by The Fates who still made their plans for the veil blurry to Hades.
"Lord Hades," Thanatos nodded, his voice a phantasmal whisper. Drawing his wraith-like wing in so Hades could pass through, he pulled on Cerberus's chain so that Charon had safe passage through the Doors of Death.
For a split second, the veil's quivering texture solidified briefly so that Hades could glimpse the outline of a woman, a crown placed elegantly on her head. All other features were lost in the fluctuating material as they passed through.
Wide eyed and fully awake now, yet his mind had clouded over and was staring into the dismal sludge as Charon pushed forward with his staff. A cold surge sent a trembling sensation spiraling through Hades spine and stomach, as if an ice bucket of water had suddenly drenched him. Along with this was the mist. The mist would cloud a mortals vision yet Hades could see straight through and ahead.
When the smoky mist cleared and Charon led them further into Styx, other rivers could be seen ahead, leading to the other realms of his vast kingdom.
But even today Hades didn't feel a sense of pure power as he drifted towards his palace because his mind wandered on Persephone again. Although, he had now had a different thought.
Demeter's daughter.
Everyone knew how overprotective Demeter had gotten over her child... He just hadn't visited Olympus enough to know of his niece. The day Persephone had been born and blessed by the Gods, Hades hadn't bothered to show his face. None of the Gods had expected him to. Zeus knew he would never make a visit, as the invitation had been returned in damp rags because Hades had gladly let Cerberus show them what he though of it.
Although, Persephone and Demeter lived outside of Olympus in the meadows and forests that were spread out further than the eye could see, Hades till had never come to the surface to visit.
Hades hadn't been to Olympus for almost a century – purely because he had to reason to but the closest entrance happened to that forest. It was the official entrance to the Underworld. The one Hermes used to guide the souls to his realm.
Hades was so glad he had ventured that way.
The soggy ground grew more serrated and splintery as the entrance to the Fields of Punishments loomed up ahead, passing them by. Two torches were hung either side of the cold, stone archways, lighting the direful entrance.
Passing that island, Hades palace lay ahead of it, the river Lethe - leading to Elysium - on the other side; the luminescent faint glow of blue was easier to make out when closer.
Charon guided the boat onto the shore, waiting for Hades to exit before heading back to the Doors of Death.
Once indoors Hades felt an urgent need to see Persephone again. His bones ached for her, his body felt hollow without the image of her so fresh in his mind and the Persephone he 'met' in the forest was becoming blurry in his mind. He wanted to see what she was doing; stare into those glowing eyes; glimpse her warmth and wonder.
Frustrated. That's what she was last time he saw her. For dealing with Apollo. Though, there was a sense of attraction in her body towards Apollo. Quickly, Hades put the thought out of his mind; being too dangerous to be there in the first place. She was irritated by him to, Hades assures himself.
"HECATE!" He boomed, his voice bounced off the walls and echoed through out his palace, causing nearby servants to jump in shock. The black marbles was glossy and caused the silvery artwork in his palace to stand out. Frames and archways were silver and mahogany entwined.
After throwing open doors and flying down stairs and steps, Hades was rushing down the bleak spiral staircase to Hecate's lair. She had clearly requested to be on the very bottom floor of the palace so as to be in peace, even though the hidden path to Tartarus was only a few corridors away. Hades trusted that Tartarus was a very sturdy prison but if anything were to happen, he knew Hecate too well to know that she could be the most fearsome creature to behold.
The fake moon that she used to control the Phoebe glowed above the stairs (as one might hang a chandelier), bouncing off the metal banisters and steps as he descended.
A thin, transparent curtain hung over the entrance, displaying a hazy scene before his eyes.
Hecate knelt before a shelf of candles (assorted in different colours and sizes) with her back to Hades. The bright flames danced furiously at his intrusion.
Pulling the curtain aside, he tentatively glanced round. Rugs and blankets lay everywhere. Hung over the icy stone slabs of the walls were scrolls nailed in place and curtains, other fabrics Hades had never seen. Bottles were astray in corners, scrolls were scattered on tables and chairs. Curtains, like the one at the entrance, lay over shelves and doorways to smaller rooms.
"What is it you require, my Lord?" Hecate almost made Hades jump but he was too determined to see Persephone. Hecate still had her back to him, facing her candles, eyes closed; deep in thought.
Hecate's white, soft hair gently touched the floor when she knelt. Though her skin wasn't as white; it was translucent yet radiated the same dim glow as the moon. Her thin figure only made her look more deranged and different. But, due to her fragile state, every aspect carried a charming characteristic that the night creatures often had.
"I wish to see the-"
"Goddess Persephone," she whispered, still not facing her master. In fact, her body was completely rigid.
Dumbfounded, he stood there, searching for what he needed. The only light in Hecate's lair was omitted from the candles or Hecate herself, who had a faint luminescence about her.
"Very well," she said, slowly turning her torso round to face him.
Her high cheekbones had glowing, white skin stretched tight across them, her eyes were were a mixture of light blue and light purple swirled into one. She had a mystical ghostly presence with her and it showed when she moved; always so gentle and tentative yet, this very moment, her stern expression told him that he had interrupted her work.
It was then that Hades noticed palms were clasped together as if in prayer.
Who was she communicating with?
When mortals prayed, they communicated with the Gods for help. When the Gods prayed it was simple communication with each other. Rarely done, yet Hecate's mysterious nature was intriguing to Hades since the start. She was one of the only Goddesses he trusted.
"The bowl? Where is it?" Hades commanded, as Hecate unclasped her hands and slowly stood, her silk chiton shifted as she did so.
Beckoning him to follow her, Hecate glided across the rocky room, fabrics softening the path for her feet as she led him to a very small room with dozens of candles lining the circular wall. . Pealing back the curtain, she let Hades walk in alone.
Once she had returned to her prayer among the millions of candles, Hades Hands plunged itself into the freezing cold water, the misty reflection of his own face vanished and he was met with the beauty of his Persephone sound asleep, engulfed in white bed sheets. Her peaceful features made a warmth spread through his chest and wistful smile spread across his lips.
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