Scrolls Of Shakespeare: Immersed

9: Out of Place

“No! Do not drink that! Do you have any idea how many deaths have been caused just from touching this river?!” Thanastasia shrieked. My ears rang from her shrill warning as she sprinted through the shallow water towards me and smacked my hands down, causing the new handful of water to retreat to its source. She picked up her skirts and tried to dry the water from my hands.

“I already took a huge drink and I'm fine. More than fine actually! This is the best I’ve felt in months.” I countered as I reached down and filled my mouth three more times with her eyes wide in shock. In truth, I did feel good. My body was energized, all pain or discomfort I had previously felt was burned away.

“We must go to my father.... Now!” The goddess growled as she grasped my arm. Her now brute strength was fierce as she pulled me along. Though she was only walking at the pace of a brisk walk, her strides were long, forcing me to nearly sprint so I would not be dragged along the ground. She slowed slightly once we came to the nearly transparent blood red stone steps.  The palace had  different minerals shimmering throughout.  A pair of black armored guards kept watch at the large front doors.

 “Whoa, Ana, what’s the hurry?” The first one questioned sarcastically as he leaned on his black and white stone handled spear.

      “Who's the Worshiper?” The second asked, pointing at me.  Thanastasia bared her teeth in warning and a hiss  pursued. Their eyes shined through the slits in their helms and they backed submissively against the doors. They were afraid of Thanastasia. Greatly afraid.
    The two warriors pushed the heavy doors in, allowing us into the foyer. She proceeded to drag me, though this time less harshly, down a hall and into a room that neglected doors, though there was evidence that there once had been a set. Over thirty people, all of which we're male, filled the hall.  
    The room also held three magnificent thrones on a small stage; but my attention was drawn to the center throne. Black as obsidian, the throne was in shards at the base. To the left was a throne of black with gold leaves etched to the side. An elegant chair resided at its side on green grass. To the right was a throne of what seemed to be hallowing crystal that was so clear, it looked as though it was not there. Though the black throne was the same size, the crystal chair was the most prominent. A small trickle of water from The Styx ran behind the whole back of the stage and defied gravity as it ran up one of the crystal legs, infusing the whole throne with its magnificent swirl of color. I then remembered that Thanastasia inherited the title of goddess of the river of the River Styx. 

The throne must be her's. I thought. I looked back to the black throne, and saw a slight plume of smoke at the seat of the grand chair. The haze expanded and began to flood onto the stage and spill like water off of the stage. The smoke flooding the chair began to take form of a man, and dissipated, leaving Hades in its place. On  his head he wore a black helm made of bone and smoke, horns of black protruded from the side and curled upwards in an elegant spiral pointing up to the the ceiling. The smoke of his helm morphed into faces, of humans, of things I wish I would never see again.  
    The Helm of Darkness.  Just seeing that that thing actually existed sent chills up my spine. So many myths having to do with that one creation of his, all of them cloaked in nightmarish terror and horror. How he could bend the shadows to him and become your darkest fear and more. So much so, that he could cause your heart to stop from sheer fright. I continued to stare at the Helm and it seemed as though time froze.

     No sounds could be heard but the beating of my heart. No one was moving, no one was blinking. The smoke of the god’s headpiece morphed into a face. I squinted my eyes attempting to make out the features. the smoke cleared cleared a bit and I saw the face of the preacher from my burning dream. The preacher stepped out of the smoke, and I saw he was a twenty-something, dressed in blue jeans and a plain black t-shirt. He kept walking towards me, and by his foot falls, I knew he was not an illusion. I walked back, trying to make a wider gap between us. My back was to a wall, and still he got closer. I cowered down and he kneeled to my side.