The War God's Woman 3

3. Hecate's Palace

Sage screamed in Eros' ear as they fell and fell.

"I've got you." He reassured her, yelling over the wind that raced against them. Sage clung onto him. Surely, when they hit the ground, they were going to be smashed into pieces.

But then she saw not the ground but a black void that they were falling into. Sage's scream became piercing. She scrunched her eyes shut and buried her face against Eros' chest.

The impact of hitting the void made her head jerk back and she let go of Eros. Coldness. Awful coldness flooded into her – shooting up her veins and through the marrows of her bones. She opened her mouth to gasp – and water flooded in. Sage opened her eyes and realised that she was under water. All she could see was darkness. She looked frantically up and down, needing light, needing to know which way was up or down.

Fire burnt her throat and lungs. She was drowning.

A hand gripped her wrist and tugged on her hard. Sage clung onto the owner of this hand. The water rushed past them, and Sage hoped that he was swimming them to the surface. She held on, resting her head against a broad shoulder.

A shoulder much too broad to belong to Eros...

Sage's head broke the surface and she gasped, couching up water. It took a while for her eyes to adjust to the gloom. Treading water, she looked around, confused to find herself alone. Who was the immortal who had rescued her?

The river was inky black and Sage scanned the grey banks of the river.

"Sage!" Eros called out. He was standing on the ashy shore but dived in quickly to reach her. "I'm sorry, that was my first time taking a passenger. I didn't know it would be like that."

He towed Sage towards the shore. Sage was panting for breath, her muscles aching as they staggered out of the water. "Welcome to the underworld."

Sage looked up and stared as a flurry of winged creatures arced overhead, shrieking and wailing as they flew past.

**

Hecate, the Lady of the Underworld, was the goddess of ghosts. Mind-numbingly large statues of the goddess towered over the fields of Elysium, making sure none of the souls could forget who ruled over them. But Sage wasn't destined for Elysium. She was set to stay in Hecate's beautiful and awful palace. 

The palace was on an island, surrounded by the vast Cocytus River. The River of Wailing. In those dark waters, shuddered the souls of those unable to use Charon's ferry. Trapped in misery, the waters lashed against the base of the cliffs – like an ocean caught in perpetual storm. The smooth black stone walls of the palace stood strong against the onslaught, protecting those that lived inside.

The palace was teeming with robed priests and priestess', beautiful servants of varied species and genders and, finally, the underworlds largest percentage of the population – monsters. They lived in Hecate's halls – with an aura of icy purpose.

Deep beneath her temple, Hecate had a chamber for her private rituals. Only her closest servants were permitted that deep and they were blinded so that even they couldn't set eyes on Hecate's secrets -her most sacred purpose - her rituals that involved the dead.

**

                        Sage grimaced, bowing low and trying her best to keep her body at the perfect ninety-degree angle. Bow whenever Hecate goes past. This is essential. Never forget who she is. Never forget how old and how powerful.