Persephone
Chapter twenty-nine
Hecate had brought help. A nymph named Audenth, a tiny girl who appeared close to my age.
She was the first being with blonde hair I’d seen since I’d been here, a usually sunny golden blonde dimmed by the shadow of death that loomed and clung to everything here like a second skin.
Audenth prepared the bath for me, ignoring my protests that I could do it myself, shaking me off with a smile and a wave of her hand.
She even took great care to select soaps she thought might soothe me.
Lavender scented soaps in the Underworld. Who would have guessed?
Did Hades do imports from the mortal realms?
The thought was enough to make me giggle, enough that Audenth gave me a concerned look.
I took in the expansive black marble and gold that made up the bathing chamber.
A skylight in addition to the sconces drenched the room in soft light.
The tub over in the center of the room beckoned me with wafts of steam and a light floral scent.
I stripped my clothes off, leaving them in a neat pile before easing into the hot, foamy water, nearly moaning as my muscles unknotted beneath the warmth.
Within the hour, I was bathed and dressed in a flowing green dress and a black cloak that dusted the floor as I walked, and Hecate declared me ready to tour House Hades.
The throne room was an easy place to start the tour, a place I’d barely glimpsed upon my entry, sitting to the right of the massive room with the stairs from yesterday.
Stairs Hecate and I now descended, but instead of continuing to the first floor, we parted ways from the stairs on the second.
A better view, she’d promised. A better view of what?
My heart lurched at the fine architecture, the incredibly ornate detailing in the wrought iron railings, the combination of the stone, glittering diamond, and the firelight.
It was as terrifying as it was seductive. Beautiful. A trap, perfect to lure you in and by the time you realized you were in lethal danger, the Underworld will have swallowed you whole.
In a place reigned over by death, there could be no survivors.
Each step to the throne room grew colder, leaving me grateful Audenth had insisted I wear my cloak, a heavy black velvet with a fur hood that felt like a warm hug, especially with death’s frigid fingers trying to coax the warmth from me.
“It’s colder than death in here,” I murmured when Hecate trained a raised eyebrow at me. “Does the god of death have an aversion to warmth or something?”
“I know you reference Hades in intention, but you speak of Thanatos, the god of death. Easy misconception.” Hecate’s budding amusement felt in sync with the room. Cold and detached.
“Right, sorry. Thanatos. My mistake,” I apologized.
“The chill is only because of them,” Hecate pointed out as we entered the massive throne room from above. Even from here, the hallowed hall stretched on without end. Even the ceilings disappeared in a cloud of darkness and fog above, giving it an ethereal touch.
If ethereal were also damning.
That was when I followed Hecate’s gaze to the floor.
I gasped, my hand flying to my mouth to stifle my reaction. “What are they?”
“Those are shades,” Hecate answered dutifully.
There were dozens of them in no particular order or fashion—translucent, weightless, almost able to be misconstrued for fog if not for their black, lifeless eyes.
Their soft, expressionless faces blurred, as if half remembered by the mortal world.
“These are the souls upon which the judges could not agree. They await judgment and sentencing by Hades himself when he’s out of his meeting. ”
I studied them, finding meaning in each of their faces. They each had a story, one I’d yet to learn, not unlike the mortals I’d loved in the above world.
They weren’t frightening, I realized with a heavy heart, guilt eating me for my earlier reaction.
They were sad, without closure or peace.
“What happens to them?” I asked Hecate without removing my gaze from the shades.
“They wait their turn,” she said, brushing her hair behind her ear.
“These souls have just crossed the Styx.” She pointed to three fully corporeal figures standing before the dais where an empty throne waited.
“Through there are the judges that will sort them into their respective afterlives. If a mortal appeals to Hades’s mercy, or if the judges cannot all agree, Hades gives the final sentence. ”
Minos, Radamanthus, and Aeacus. The three judges gauged each soul in turn just beyond towering black steel doors that glinted in the firelight.
I could almost hear each voice, distinct like the crack of a whip.
They would sort all of these souls into Asphodel Meadows, Elysium, Fields of Punishment, or…
Tartarus. Where only the most heinous of souls go. The most evil. I looked around, scanning each face. Did one of them have a future there? I shuddered.
“They look so…” I pondered the right word, grappling for a beat, “lost.”
“They are,” Hecate affirmed in a voice far too light for these souls to deserve.
“Or perhaps untethered is a better term. Death is losing one thing and finding another. This is the moment they’re caught in between.
But they adapt.” Hecate observed them the same way she’d observed me, cold and calculating, as if appraising the weather.
“Can they feel?” All I wanted to do looking at this sea of shades was give them a sign. Something hopeful. Anything to quell the silence and sorrow that suffocated this space.
Hecate glanced sidelong at me. “If you’re asking if they can harm you, they can’t. That power remains with your demented, overprotective kidnapper, and only the most feral of shades, I suppose.”
“I thought you funny before,” I mused. “Maybe less so now.”
A soft thud followed by the gentle sound of cloth over metal echoed down the ancient hall. Hecate’s eyes flicked to it, and I followed her gaze to see four figures.
Four translucent figures.
“Those,” Hecate pointed, looking back to me, “are specters.”
She didn’t have to tell me they were different than the shades below us.
These specters were clearer, more defined, pausing my movements.
Their faces were clear and expressive, eyes even imitated a brightness that resembled a spark of life.
They drifted through pillars, polishing braziers, carrying books and scrolls, spines straightening under Hecate’s watchful eye, or sweeping the hallways free of dust. Every move the shades gave was listless.
These specters moved with the same sense of duty as the living.
I frowned in confusion, blinking at my tour guide. “They… labor here?”
I couldn’t think of anything so horrible. To work, toil, and labor your entire mortal life only to do it again in death? I pitied them more than the shades awaiting judgment below.
“They serve here,” Hecate corrected me lightly. “And save your pity. They have no need of it. This is their penance. Crimes in their above life cost them purpose in their below life. No torture, no screams, no unending torment, just labor. When their penance is paid, they may move on to Asphodel.”
That seemed so… fair. Reasonable. Punishment isn’t necessarily infinite then, as mother had said. Or perhaps she was thinking of the Hell realm Hecate had mentioned. That sounded more on track than what I was currently observing.
My gaze lingered on a ghost straightening a gilded frame, her face serene as she hummed a melody to herself. “They look content.”
The goddess of magic and crossroads shrugged. “Perhaps they are. Who am I to judge?”
My grin bled into a snort at Hecate’s exasperated expression when my elbow teased her arm gently, almost hesitantly. “Is that not the whole purpose of this room?”
Hecate paused, then smiled, too sharply to be considered warm. “I’ll give you that one, though judging is beyond my pay grade.”
“Why do I get the feeling you judge mortals and deities alike free of charge?” A genuine laugh surprising us both. Hecate took my arm, leading me further down the hall, rolling her eyes.
“Perhaps you’re more observant than I’d given your credit for.”
I told myself I was retreating to my rooms. I wasn’t brooding or pouting as I gazed impassively over the Underworld spread out at my feet.
My heart twisted in my chest, missing mother.
Missing the overworld. I definitely wasn’t flipping through books I’d swiped from the library searching for hidden portals back home.
There were more than a few stories of wayward mortals or demi gods trying to get into the Underworld, who says retracing their steps was impossible?
I wasn’t doing anything wrong, but when a tiny knock sounded at the door, I startled so hard I nearly launched the heavy leather tome with crumbling pages through the window I was perched at.
I eyed the door skeptically. Hecate just appeared as she desired.
Hades would announce himself, not that he’d come to visit me since I’d been here.
Eerie silence took my attention over my irritation.
“Who’s there?” My voice was sharper than I’d intended, stopping another soft rapt short.
“It’s me." A shuffle, a clearing throat sounded behind the door, "Audenth, Lady Persephone.” Her timid voice met my ear and I soured at my lack of manners. I didn’t have a harsh word for Audenth, I quickly crossed the room to open to door, finding her holding something with an awkward smile.
Something glass.
“I just wanted to see if you were doing okay. I know this place…I know it’s a lot. But I find this stuff helps tremendously.”
She showed me the bottle. Lethefire, it spelled on the textured glass label. Audenth’s smile boldened, turning upwards earnestly.
“Some of this and you’ll find the nerves dull. Too much of this and you’ll remember too much, or not enough” she winked.