Persephone

I

It was dark here. And cold. Damp. A stalactite dripped sullenly nearby, and the water landed on his dusty feet, still caked in mud from his visit above ground. The water surrounding the slick, stony bridge glimmered green, creating dancing shadows on the rock above. He walked on, the leather of his sandals slipping slightly on the uneven ground, shoulders slumped with the mental exhaustion of a family reunion. Leaving home was always hard. He hated the light.

He walked on, and on, disoriented in the thoughts and folds of his mind, until he came to the mouth of the river. Charon was waiting, turning an obol idly betwixt his long, bony fingers. The milky eyes saw through him and he felt naked in his friend's company once more.

"My lord," the boatman rumbled, his voice echoing against the deep cavern and recoiling in its own volume. His stiff fingers gripped the rotten and splintered oar, and Hades, steadying himself on the bow, stepped in. His hand slipped over the carving of a mortal's face, screaming in agony as the pit swallowed him whole.

"My companion," Hades replied, voice level as the boat rocked gently, swaying lullingly on the souls of the damned. Charon nodded once, a superficial incline of the head, before haltingly nudging the craft into motion.

They swayed in comfortable silence, the weight of two old friends examining thoughts of the day without feeling need to create the noise of uncomfortable civility. They simply sat, staring into the lifeless viridian lake that lay below them, wondering who would be sent to Elysium and who would be subjected to Tartarus' wrath. He had stopped caring, he found - it never mattered, all the same. He had loved the mortals, once. Their hunger for life. Their delicate fragility. But now they were just breakable. And indistinguishable. He hated them.

The boat knocked up against land, and Hades looked up into the eyes of Cerberus. They glowed, like pieces of molten coal set alight. He must have been gone too long.

He stepped out, doing his best not to collapse backwards ungracefully, and brushed the three-headed dog with his cool fingertips as he walked past. Cerberus whined, but the god of death had many things to do.

He walked on, until he had reached that same cold, damp throne, cracks beginning to form in the lonely rock. He dropped into the chair and sighed quietly. Each time got harder. Each time he was requested in Olympus it got harder to go up.

"My lord, there are many issues to see to."

He waved his hand. "Yes, alright, proceed."

The first person in was a young girl, about seven. How could he tell her why she was here?

This was going to be a very long day.