4. Chapter 4
Chapter four
Corre
T he market was bustling today, and Corre loved it. She practically lived for the days she could go into the market and show everyone the fresh, plump creations her mother had produced. And soon, she’d be able to sell some of her own, too.
The smells were always divine—one of her favorite parts of it all. As soon as she could see the marketplace, she could breathe in the delightful air of candied fruits and the sporadic waves of earthy aromas from a variety of homemade concoctions. The market was a chance for everyone to get together and show off what they’d been working on. But most of all, it was where everyone could take a break and just be .
Today the spirits were especially high. The sounds erupting from the crowd were louder than usual, the mass of bodies denser. Corre smiled and waved at unfamiliar faces, excited to see anyone new. Anyone who wasn’t the small handful of people she saw on a regular basis.
“Whoa,” she mumbled as a group of teenage goddesses bumped into her, all of which were laughing and huddled together. Beyond them, children held hands and giggled, giving each other hand-crafted necklaces of precious beads and gems, and a husband and wife were adoring each other by a booth of bottled jams. Gods and goddesses all around Mt. Olympus were showing off an array of different rarities. Corre had a hard time deciding which booth to go to first. The market was once every cycle of the moon, and it was getting bigger and better each time, likely because the second wave of gods and goddesses was coming of age.
Corre strolled through a row of booths. Bright fabrics, gems, and hand-painted pottery lined the slick, wooden shelves around her. Symphonic harmonies played by musical goddesses and gods crooned through the air, a delightful undercurrent of laughter bubbling beneath it. Corre loved it. All of it. She looked forward to it every new moon.
“Corre!” a familiar voice called out. A tall, slender goddess approached her, crimson hair cascading down her back in strong, rippling curls. Corre always thought of Athena as the perfect combination of grace and strength, and anyone could see it in the way the goddess walked.
“Hello, Athena,” she said with a smile, putting her basket down to give the goddess a hug. “How are you? You look radiant, as always.”
Athena chuckled and swatted the air, waving off the compliment. “Oh, you’re too kind, dear. I’m doing well. How is your mother?”
“She’s doing well. She…” her voice trailed off as the jubilance of the crowd behind Athena made an abrupt shift. The air grew heavy, like a prickly blanket had been tossed over the festivities. A small group of gods nearby whispered to each other hastily, and when overhead by passersby, the shocked expressions they wore grew contagious. Soon, almost everyone in the market was either wide-eyed, gasping, or holding a hand to their chests, anxiously twisting the fabric of their colorful robes.
“What’s going on?” Corre whispered. Athena’s forehead wrinkled as she scanned the scattering crowd. Corre took a step closer, but the people were already rushing out of the market. “I’m sorry, Athena, but I have to go. I hope you have a lovely rest of your day.”
Before the older goddess could respond, Corre sped toward the dwindling crowd. When she spotted a plump god she’d never seen before, she grabbed him gently by the elbow. He turned to look at her, muttering something under his breath. She gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help but ask what’s going on. Why is everyone running away? I’ve never seen such a fuss here before.” Or anywhere , she thought, trying to remember a time when she had.
The god’s eyes bulged. “You didn’t hear?”
“No, what—”
“It’s him,” he said, his voice ragged. “It’s Hades. He’s coming.”
Corre’s blood turned cold. Her hand froze on the god’s elbow. “H-Hades? As in Theron of Tartarus?”
“Yes,” the god said urgently, tossing her wrist to her side. “Hades. Theron. Whatever you want to call him. He’s been spotted coming out of Tartarus. We’re all in danger.” Before she could ask any more questions, the stout god bolted out of the marketplace.
She didn’t even have time to process what was going on before everyone was gone. Every single vendor, musician, and soul was gone, their scattered goods left in disarray. She couldn’t believe they’d abandoned such precious materials. These weren’t easy items to make. There was a reason they were sold here.
Was Theron truly that terrible? How could one god instill so much fear?
A hand curled over Corre’s shoulder. She gasped and turned around swiftly, her heart lodging itself up her throat.
When she saw it was Athena, Corre’s muscles relaxed. “Oh. I thought you were—”
“Hades?” the older goddess said, a thin brow rising. Corre nodded, and Athena offered a gentle smile. “Don’t worry. They’re all afraid of a myth. I’m sure there’s nothing to fear.” Corre nodded once more, but she wasn’t convinced.
Hades . Athena had said his title as if that was all that defined him. Then again, a lot of gods and goddesses chose their titles as their names. Anyone who was appointed as one of the “Great ones” could either embrace the title as their own name or keep their birth name and only call themselves their title when summoned by Zeus or when needed for their duties.
Corre liked her own name and had decided long ago to only go by Persephone when absolutely necessary. It was an identity given to her. It wasn’t who she really was. She had to be fine with both, though. She’d be called Persephone almost exclusively soon, even if she expressly told the others to only call her Corre. But she couldn’t help but wonder if Theron wanted to go by Hades at all. Athena had made a point of doing it, too, as did the other gods. His title defined him to them.
Maybe it made him less real to them. But it just didn’t sit right with Corre, though she couldn’t figure out why. Perhaps it was because the young goddess wanted to believe that someone couldn’t be as bad as Hades. It made more sense that the stories were of a persona. A myth born from the prophecy Theron was appointed to fulfill. Who knew what the legends spoke of the kind of goddess Persephone was? Well, Corre knew the basics, as she was told them backward and forward. But there could be more. There were things that didn’t make sense to her. Her duties, for one, were not something that came naturally to her.
And someone who had the strength and power to kill without breaking a sweat? Someone who could drag a soul to the Underworld and doom them for eternity? Surely, these myths about Hades were just that: myths. Theron had to be just a god like everyone else.
But the more she thought of the gods and goddesses fleeing the marketplace with such haste and fright, the more she felt that something was very wrong with Theron. That he was more beast than god. Someone who looked like the demonic creatures that swarmed the Underworld and snapped at the heels of dying humans. That blanket of unease that had fallen upon the once happy, active marketplace couldn’t have been brought on by mere tales. Theron must be just as evil and ugly as the stories made him out to be. A decaying skeleton of a man with no heart, soul, or eyes to peer into. A monster.
She gave Athena a tight smile. “I’m sure you’re right. I’m sure there’s no such Hades. I’m sure the real Theron is nothing to be feared.” But the words spilled from her like broken petals, wilting with the fear soaking her lips. Nothing could stop the tightening in her chest. No fake smile or empty sentiment could loosen that knot.
As Corre left the market and sped back home, all she could think about was the god who’d left the Underworld—more monster than god—and how she hoped to the Titans that she would never run into him.