A play on Dante's Inferno, with an extended plot.
"ABANDON ALL HOPE, YOU WHO ENTER HERE"
The dusk reeked of fornication and bad consciences.
Here, in Limbo, suffer those who did not sin, yet did not have the required portal of the Greek faith. Their punishment is the denial of Paradise. She sees Homer, Socrates, Aristotle, Cicero, Hippocrates and Julius Caesar idling in their castle, the seven gates of which offer no path to Heaven, as those who did not actively believe in Zeus were forced into this morbid sanctuary, an inferior form of Paradise. She pities them, but it is not as if she does not know that those coming ahead will have seen worse fates.
For now she was in the outlying region, the Ante-Inferno, where she was still safe and the choice was still hers if she wanted to turn back. Hermes, who had been her guide, had abandoned her long ago...not even the bravest of the gods were willing to venture across Acheron into realms too sinister to be spoken of. But Love had no choice but to descend downward, for the one whom she was searching for did not make his home on Earth.
She approaches the ferryman.
"One drachma is the fee,"
"I do not pay toll, Charon," The ferryman lowers his hood to reveal a twisted, old, gargoyle-like face, which contorts into an expression of alarm. But he composes himself and once again assumes an indifferent countenance.
"Careful to step," he stooped low, in an apparent bow, and gestured to the boat by his side. She stepped in cautiously, taking his gnarled hand for assistance. They started along the long, winding river. She took care not to look too closely into the black, murky waters.
Charon deposits her on the outskirts of the Second Circle.
"A word of caution," he says in his eerie tone. "Abandon all hope, ye who enter here. It was not a friendly greeting, Goddess," Her light brown eyes flash up to his coal black ones in surprise, but he is off before she can respond.
The Second Circle. To this torment are condemned the carnal damned. Those for whom desire conquered reason. The passionate souls, and those whom she can relate to the most. They are punished by being blown violently back and forth by strong winds, preventing them to find peace and rest. Them, she can sympathize with the most.
"Good lady" She cries to a woeful soul with lanky black hair. The soul overcomes the winds of the Tempest of Lustful Shades to reach her. When they finally stand face to face, the soul looks at her expectantly. "I'd...I'd like to know how to get out of-of here," she shivers, wrapping her arms around herself. The winds grow stronger.
The other woman scoffed.
"Don't we all?" she said dryly, turning on her heel.
"Wait!" cries the goddess, putting her hand on the woman's shoulder and withdrawing it in surprise as it falls straight through the woman's body. "I've been sent here. To find Hades. I need to know how to reach his realm," The soul looked disbelieving at the notion that anyone would be willing to seek out Hades. But she pointed behind her to a region from which torturous cries were emanating.
"Thank you," Love said, biting her lip, reluctant to move forward and pursue her mission. The woman looked at her with interest.
"Who did you say you were?" Love's eyes flashed to the woman's.
"I-I didn't say,"
"Were you condemned?" asked the woman.
"In a sense," Love answered vaguely. "I have a duty to fulfill," The woman nodded understandingly.
"I was sent down here a long time ago. At least it feels like a long time. No one counts the years," Love looked at her sympathetically.
"May I ask why you are here instead of, you know, up," Love said, gesturing to the Heavens. The woman sighed.
"I made a terrible mistake," she said, gazing off into the distance. "He was my husband's brother and once I met him, I just-I...I couldn't stop thinking about him,"
The goddess's eyes went wide.
"You mean you were sent down here for falling in love?" The woman nodded solemnly.
"But-but loving is not a sin!"
"Unrestrained passion is," the woman said. "But there is no point in arguing against King Minos and his twisted reasoning,"
"Minos?" asked the goddess, recognizing the name. "He is here?" The woman nodded. "Could you lead me to him?"
The woman shook her head no. And the goddess responded with a confused expression. "Why not?"
"Minos only sees those who have passed on. You are in too healthy of a state to bring to him. He will not like it." Unwilling to have to reveal to the woman the truth of her identity, the goddess did not press the issue.
"Onward then?" The woman began to walk into the face of the torrents, and the goddess fell suit.
Love was a woman of surpassing beauty, and at that time, when she was in the prime of her power as Goddess, she was most striking, haunting even. It was in her beauty that she reposed all claims to her position as Love. As she passed, the souls of the Second Circle-in their lustful, restless state-became tangled around themselves trying to reach her, to touch her, and she-being pure and yielding-let them. The woman paid no heed to the clusters of men following them, but continued to plow forward against the wind.
They stopped where the cries and shrieks of the gluttonous started. Populated by gluttonous demons, great landscapes made of living organs, storms and mud of human waste, and giant gorger worms with insatiable appetites. In this circle are punished those who over-indulged in food, drink and addictions in the world above, placing such things above their fellow man, forced to slosh around forever in the vile muck. For the ruinous fault of Gluttony, so are these sad souls broken by the rain and the mud.
And so it went, as the goddess ventured, circle by circle, into the heart of the kingdom.
Into the fourth circle: For the crime of Greed do these souls suffer. Those clerks asquint of mind made no measured spending in life. And by contrast, in these Popes and Cardinals, greed practiced its excess. Within the circle are occupants who are boiled alive in molten gold below, condemned for hoarding too closely or spending too freely with riches.
In the Fifth Circle, she happened upon the souls over whom anger prevailed. In the warm bath of the sun they were hateful, down here in the black sludge of the river Styx do they wish they had never been born. Holding her hands over her ears to muffle the shrieks, the goddess stumbled through the circle, ending up in front of the River Styx.
It was a toxic marsh, where those awash with anger drown again and again, choking on their own venom. She was repulsed at the goriness of it all, but she willed herself to cross.
As an immortal, she would not be affected forever, but the instant she was submerged, she felt the searing pain that the sinners had felt. It flashed white-hot through her skin, and she told herself not to cry. Reaching out for the boundary of the Sixth Circle, she felt her pain subside and gasped for air, discovering that she was neither wet nor otherwise harmed.
The same could not be said for the condemned of the sixth circle.
She saw saw a great plain of woe and cruel torment. Bitter tombs were scattered with flame made to glow all over, hotter than iron need be for any craft. And such dire laments issued forth as come only from those who are truly wretched, suffering and forever lost. Here she found the heretics and followers of every cult and pagan sect, all buried together, burning in eternal fire.
The realm of violence was grotesque. Again, she covered her ears and ran through the Woods of Suicide, the gnarled forest where trees are born from hopeless suicides, rooted and writhing in eternal pain. And again she came upon a river, this time the Phlegethon, the river of blood. Cruel kings, despots, despoilers, and all those who have done violence unto others, boil within its banks.
Despite the torture, she pressed on.
She reached the Eight Circle with great despair festering inside her. The ten ditches of the Malebolge, where the panderers, seducers, grafters, thieves, falsifiers, and hypocrites were, frightened her more than anything she had seen thus far.
She had woven her way through all the other circles merely through luck. This time, though, she didn't think she would be able to navigate the labyrinth that was the Malebolge.
Around and around in circles she went, to one ditch then another, searching in vain for the exit into the Ninth and Final Circle. Her eyes filled with tears at her panic and frustration.
At last she found it and her confusion was replaced by another feeling...dread. She stepped forward.
Before her journey, Hermes had given her a special halo, fashioned in Hephaestus' forges. It would keep one safe in their passage through Hell, but only for the first eight circles. The Ninth, Hermes had said, radiated malice in such large amounts that even Hepheastus' creations could not protect.
The goddess kept the halo on, nonetheless. But as she prepared to enter the Ninth Circle-the lowest, blackest, and farthest from Heaven-she felt unprecedented fears well up in her core. Everything about the past eight circles that had tormented her was now coming back to haunt her. She trembled as she stepped forward, into the realm of treachery, and as her sandal hit the crumbling ice bridge that separated the Malebolge from the Ninth Circle, she felt her ichor turn to ice.
The realm of treachery was entirely ice, the Lake Cocytus collecting from all the rivers she had passed-the Acheron, the Styx, and the Phlegethon-all merged into one.
In her minds eye, she thought of everything that had brought her this far, what was happening on Earth that drove her into the underbelly of the universe:
Once there was a supreme God, Cronos, derived from Sky and Earth, who married his sister Rhea and produced six children-Zeus, Hades, Poseidon, Hera, Demeter, and Hestia. Cronos swallowed all of his children, in fear that they would some day overthrow him and succeed him as rulers of the Universe. So he ingested his children, all except one-Zeus-whom Rhea hid. When Zeus grew old enough, he defeated his father, releasing his siblings from the confines of Cronos' stomach. Cronos arose again from the ashes of his former self, eager to seek revenge on Zeus. The King of the Gods, however, did not allow this to happen. Instead, he threw Cronos down from Heaven, and the fall of the Titan through Earth created an impact crater that soon became Hell, where Cronos was forever to remain.
Zeus, happy and content after his victory, later married Hera and the Universe was divided amongst him and his brothers. Poseidon took command of the sea. Hades and Zeus, however, quarreled to rule the Sky. Zeus won the battle, dooming his brother to the Underworld, where Hades began to command the souls of the dead.
The ice holds the malicious Cronos and his legions of treacherous followers. The lake itself is formed from the tears of Cronos, and the flapping of his wings to keep it frozen. But when Zeus felt the Underworld go quiet, he realized that Cronos had stopped beating his wings, which meant that the ice of the Cocytus would melt and the Titan would be set free. In angst, he dispatched his bravest gods to the Underworld to investigate, but the few that returned did not make it past the Sixth Circle, nor did they ever want to. Frustrated, Zeus began to send the weaker gods, Love among them, to find Hades and alert him of the disappearances as well as Cronos' odd behavior.
The goddess recalled all this. With purpose at the forefront of her mind, she descended into the cold pit of the Ninth Circle, through the ice...Round 1, Caina...Round 2, Antenora...Round 3, Ptolomea...Round 4, Judecca.
Alas, she had reached the home of Cronos.
At the center of the ninth Circle of Hell depicts Cronos as a giant terrifying beast with six wings and three faces. Cronos is waist deep in ice. His right and left head gnawed on Cassius and Brutus (who were involved in the murder of Julius Caesar) feet first in those mouths. In the central most vicious mouth is Judas Iscariot. Judas is being administered the most horrifying torture of the three traitors: his head gnawed by Cronos's mouth and his back being forever skinned by Cronos's claws.
The goddess held her hands up to her mouth in shock. But it was not the beastly Cronos who had elicited her reaction...it was someone else.
Horror jolts her when she looks at him and sees a pair of beautiful eyes that make her think her mind might contain a world that could hold her as the bolts shake loose and fly from her frame.
She wanted to touch him, to throw her arms around him — but something held her back. Maybe it was the fear that her arms would pass right through him, that she would have come all this way only to find a ghost after all.
As though he'd been able to read her thoughts, he slowly angled toward her. He raised his hands and held his palms out to her.
She lifted her own hands to mirror his.
He pressed their palms together, his fingers folding down to lace through hers.
She felt a rush of warmth course through her, a relief as pure and sweet as spring rain.
He was real. This was real. She had found him. She could touch him. She could feel him. Finally they were together.
Finally, finally, they could forget this wasted world and go home.
"Don't leave me again", she whispered. "I can't—please don't leave," He drew her close. She pressed her forehead against his.
Leaning into him, she felt him press his lips to her ear in a kiss. As he spoke, the cool metal of his necklace grazed her skin, causing a shudder to ripple through her.
"You..."
His voice, low and breathy, reverberated through her, down to the thin soles of her sandals.
"You need to leave", he said.
She felt his hands tighten around hers, gripping hard, too hard.
A streak of violet lightning split the sky, striking close behind them.
The ice, she thought. It had been struck. She could hear it cracking apart. She looked for only a brief moment, long enough to watch it split open.
"Get out", he said, calling her attention back to him.
Love winced, her own hands surrendering under the suddenly crushing pressure of his hold.
A face she did not recognize stared down at her. She froze, locked by the intensity of his stare. His eyes were stark and cold, the concentrated green of pale jade. Framed in dark lashes, those eyes focused on her, unblinking through the feathery strands of his hair, and it was like being watched through a cage by a complacent and calculating cat.
"I've been compromised", he scarcely more than breathed, "And I can't keep you safe."
He said that hate makes the world go round.
People are afraid of what they really want.
They make enemies of all the things that they would like to be.
They condition themselves to not embrace what they are.
Love is a clinging nausea.
She tried to disagree with him.
It was no use.
She never saw a more honest look in anyone's eyes.
"I love you, Ares. I love you! If you care for me at all... please, don't do this! Please, don't leave me. I don't know how to live without you. I came all this way for you. If Zeus hadn't told me to come, I probably still would have! Don't make me go back to trying to be someone I don't know how to be anymore,"
Without waiting for his reply, she wrapped her arms around him and held on as hard as she could. He was her tormentor and her solace. She didn't care that he would undoubtedly hurt her at any moment, right now; she just needed somebody to hold her.
The fissures in the ice grew wider and the Great Titan Cronos, around whom all Hell was built, broke through his fetters with an earsplitting roar.
And the instant that all the forces of the Underworld were released, she saw him look at her and something turned cancerous. He was in love.
Tell me in the reviews if this makes sense at all and if you want me to continue.