Hades and Persephone

Chapter 3: Past, Present, and Future

The Styx's inky blackness was only, truly, apparent as it curved passed the Lethe and its bone white waters. It was merely a trickle of a stream compared to the canals of the Styx.

The water's calm suddenly turned to rapids. If it were not for Charon they would have crashed long before reaching the center. The man had traveled the same path countless times before and each time seemed easier than the last. Pushing off sharp rocks and away from falls. Under floating torrents and over raging whirlpools. Charon knew exactly what to do, when, and how.

The gentle turns turned sharp and sickening. Hades' only thought was how Hermes would have loved the thrill of riding it. Which is why he's not allowed to use this entrance, he thought.

The canals melded into one the closer to the center they were. Hades closed his eyes to stop the nauseating feeling caused by his spinning world. He couldn't comprehend the changing reality fast enough.

It was the feeling of being crushed or spun or wrung out like a damp rag. It was all those feelings at once. Being pulled in every direction and yet none at all. Then, it stopped.

He opened his eyes to find the boat docked against the cool gray stones that made up Des, his kingdom. Charon helped Hades off the boat, his legs shaking too much to stand without support.

He took careful steps as he walked down the pathway. His palace surrounded by a city far larger than that of Olympus. When he had lost the dice but won the underworld it was the one structure in the cavern. His apparent inheritance from Iapetus, besides the workload of the dead.

Nymphs ran from street to street, carrying everything from fruit to messages to souls. Overhead, daemons flew about, racing each other. They had not a care in the world when they were not collecting souls. Occasionally a shade shuffled by, having wandered away from the hall of judgement. A dog would appear soon after. Its appearance shifting between breeds new, old, and some not yet created.

It was one of the many heads of Cerberus taking its own form.

Distracted by its master, the dog padded over. He nuzzled his legs and outstretched palm lovingly as the god knelt down to ruffle his fur. He pulled lightly on his ears, the way the beast enjoyed, and patted his head. In reply Cerberus left trails of slobber across his face, ones Hades cringed from. Whatever soot had collected from the short trip passed the Phlegethon was wiped away.

Satisfied, Cerberus returned to the shade and began to herd it back to its rightful place.

Hades continued down the streets of his city. The nymphs were the only sources of color, though even then they were bound the by colors of the rivers. Gray buildings on gray streets with only iron lampposts to contrast. The glowing waters of the Phlegethon filled them instead of candles.

Men and women alike waved with bright smiles and kind greetings to their lord. Hades only nodded in reply, too focused on the task at hand to care for his subjects.

The Moirai lived in of the finer homes in the city. At least, it used to be. The outside had fallen into disrepair with chipped stone and broken handrails. He had offered a place in his palace, though they refused it in a show of allegiance to Zeus. Not that they had allegiance. The three sisters stayed neutral whenever it came to the brothers. The only reason they now resided in the underworld at all was because Hades had thrown a fit. Anything to do with death and souls had to be kept in house, he complained. Zeus did not argue, though was understandably angry.

Inside was still as pristine as the day the three moved in. For a moment he wondered if he had entered the wrong home. Then he saw the apparent lack of soot and ash- even in the smallest of corners- as well as the tapestry.