Waiting for Hermes to leave was one thing. It normally involved brooding in a chair, waiting for the lad to take a hint and leave. A migraine on some of his worse days. Perhaps even sending an escort with him to avoid Tartarus- that boy was much too curious for his own good.
However, waiting for Hermes to come back was an entirely new sensation. One he hoped to never experience again.
Hopefully Zeus was smart enough to message him by other means. Iris insisted upon retiring, giving her job to the boy, but also made sure she would be the first contacted in emergencies. As if to answer his thoughts, a stream of light burst into the room. Sunlight had no place here, and it was not the fiery light of the river, so this was something else. Hades quickly grabbed a prism kept on his desk. The fine crystal looked fragile, though he doubted even a Titan could break it.
The light casted through the prism, now held by Hades , and broke into a rainbow. A tiny image of Zeus projected itself on the floor, no taller than his kneecap. No color on his form was correct- his hair green, eyes purple, skin a vibrant red. As the form shifted the colors did not, like watching through a filter.
"Brother," the recording breathed. "Demeter is here. Hecate and Hera as well. No idea how long. Hurry."
With that the image faded, as did the light.
"Thanatos!" he called down the empty halls. "I am leaving for the surface. You're in charge until then."
Every room, stairwell, and hall was barren. He had given the workers time off in preparation of his 'guest'. But Thanatos would hear- he always did.
*****
The forest was empty that day- like every other time he visited. A bird chirped, but too far to make out the kind. Rustling of branches, but they waved from the wind instead of by a creature. The closest Hades had found to a creature wandering the forest were three Oceanids playing a song far downstream. They beat the water and ruffled the reads in place of instruments. He found the melody they sang haunting. Beautiful. And at the same time, sickening. It brought forth memories of a war he had long wanted to forget.
His helm hid him from sight, and his mares knew how to hide among the shadows. They hopped from tree to tree, seemingly pressed into the darkness itself.
He did not even have to inspect the wards to tell Hecate had yet to reinforce them. Like a crack in a dam. It grew larger and larger still and soon it would be too large to seal. It was not even an issue for Hades to break the dam.
The barrier solidified for a moment. A bubble, iridescent purple, appeared over the prison. Dark veins scattered through the inside of it, black lightning crackling across the surface. A single crack, glowing the purest white, was seemingly the only entrance to the hidden world. And then, like glass, it all shattered. Pieces of solid magic raining down onto the forest floor, only to destroy itself and anything it touched on impact.
It was not even a drop of Hades' magic that broke apart the barrier. Not even enough to wilt a petal or whisper the name of a spirit. Yet, Hecate's magic was built to amplify it all. He watched as the prison rotted away, turned to dust in others. Fear pricked at his heart. He promised to protect it, what good would it do if the child died then and there.
Hades' gripped the reins tighter. The mares shifted uncomfortably, feeling their master's anger. Fire threatened to burn through his body, ignite his flesh and clothes. The construct was destroyed, nothing but a jagged wall miraculously left standing. Rows of flowers turned to dry dust, not even mulch. What bark remained was blackened, as if charred, but soft and pliable like mold.
Everything, inside and out, was destroyed. Beyond even a god's capability of repair.
Yet it was not the eerily familiar destruction, nor the lack of a flicker of life present that angered him. It was the lack of one figure, alive or dead. There was no girl, no body. There was nothing. She was not there.
Hades dug into his pockets and pulled a small, crystal, vaguely spherical shape. Easily thirty faces to it. At it's very center was a single drop of ichor. It angrily threw itself against the walls, trying to break free. It flickered in and out of existence; or appeared to.
One moment the container sat in Hades' hand, impossibly cold and yet as hot as lava against his skin. The next it was smashed against the forest floor. "Show me Persephone," he commanded. The shards of crystal reformed themselves into a mirror, the Titan blood trapped within it showing the shapes of a field. A nymph, Minthe, some mortal man tending to his pigs, and a young girl playing with them. And a river. One he knew all too well.
He whipped the reigns and the chariot sped off in the direction of Helorus. The moment the forest broke he pulled into the sky. The four mares were a black scar on the brilliant blue, on no mortal could ignore. Thankfully they simply cowered, hiding instead of screaming.
The chariot thundered against the earth only long enough for the god to lean out of his dark chariot and scoop up a form. He hoped it was Persephone, not actually taking the time to look. She still hung halfway out of the chariot as he rode through the mouth of the cave, spiraling down into the underworld.
*****
Persephone had been scratching the head of a piglet when an arm slammed into her torso. Before she knew it, she was being dragged along at an impossible speed. Her heels dug a gouge through the earth and then skidded across the water. By the time she found the strength to scream her captor finally pulled her up, slamming her body down on the back of the chariot. The sun seemed to blink out of existence as she found herself in a cave, wind whipping her hair into her face. She smelled salt and heard the water slapping against the stone walls. Whether it river or ocean, it was a chance at safety.
Hades felt the girl stand, fighting the wind and the chariot to keep balance. As if he could read her mind he immediately reached back and grabbed. Her hair was soft, wrapped around his fist- stop.
The tunnel quickly narrowed. Hades ducked to avoid hitting his head, the action also forced Persephone to kneel- though that was not his intention. The mares turned to black mist, only to reform on the other side. He heard the metal of his chariot grind against the walls.
The cavern beyond was larger than anything Persephone had ever seen. An orange glow settled over the entire room. It allowed her to see the finer details of the realm. It clashed with the bright green over the river, now behind them, and complimented the dark black of the river currently below them. The smell of salt turned heavy and metallic, mixed in with sulfur and ash.
The red river was brighter than any fire, more brilliant than the sun. The color of amber and brought the gentle warmth of a campfire with it.
Along it was another, this one a brilliant blue on one bank and a dull gray on the other. Perhaps it glowed, but it was drowned out by its neighbor. It flowed into mint green waters, it beautiful and saddening and familiar all at once. She could still smell the salt of it, a fine mist billowing wherever the waters turned rough.
The waters all seemed to flow into one another, and finally into a river larger than all of them combined. Heavy, metallic, and black without shine. A color that seemed to engulf light itself, a void in the world. Yet, below the surface, swam small balls of light. Like a separate world just beyond the glass. Its waters were not just calm, they seemed frozen in place. If it were not for a glimpse of a boat, slowly skimming across it, she would have believed it a solid vein of onyx.
The final river could not even be called as such. A ribbon of white, trying and failing to overtake the Styx. The Lethe was more of a stream no wider than Persephone's arm span. Yet, it was the perfect invert of the Styx. Black drifted just below the surface. So close to touch, yet world away. She imaged what it would be like to touch it- perhaps her arm would return as if made of ivory.
Everything churned and turned into a vortex, swirling down the center like a drain. First Hades skipped over the vortex entirely, riding to the Phlegethon. Its amber waters spilled over the edge, opening into an empty expanse. Without warning, the chariot dove into a freefall into the void.
The god's grip on her hair tightened and he leaned her out of the chariot just slightly. "That is Tartarus," he shouted. "It takes nine days to reach the bottom and believe me when I say there will be nothing to break your fall! I recommend you do not flee, because this is in every direction!" He felt her give what could have been a nod, her voice lost in the fall. She closed her eyes as tightly as possible, hoping it was all a hallucination or that it was another nightmare caused by the sisters. Her grip tightened around the piglet still in her arms.
The chariot shot back up, riding along the fiery falls. The waters were warm, almost too much, yet they did not burn. It was almost comforting, in a way. Once more he skipped over the rivers, but this time dove straight into the center of the vortex. Persephone felt as if she was pressed flat. She could breathe no air, yet she felt as if she did not need to. Just as suddenly as it began it also ended.
Hades commanded the chariot down the streets of Des, just slow enough for the people to dive out of the streets. Nymphs caught a brief image of their king driving his chariot, holding a girl by her hair. Persephone saw the gray stone, the wrought iron posts, the hellish light they casted, and the people scrambling to get out of the way.
Yet, she also saw the gems embedded into each stone, glittering like starlight. She saw the bright blues and greens and reds and oranges the people seemed to wear. The way the metal was carved into the perfect imitation of ivy. Most importantly she caught how every street was lined with equally stunning town homes. Inbetween each one grew cypress, colored with white poplar and yellow narcissi. Even the asphodel, plain and dull above, seemed vibrant below.
It was all a blur, adrenaline still pumping through Persephone's veins. She was vaguely aware of the chariot coming to a stop, the mares being let loose. Of the great palace, something to put Olympus to shame, standing before her, and of the god pushing her forwards. The halls were empty, only their footsteps echoing through them. Her heart beat wildly, like it could make the world right once more if it could just be heard by someone other than its owner. At one point she could have sworn she saw a man, black wings curled behind him. The moment she was aware enough to turn and look he was gone.
Her captor opened a door to a room. It was small- by a king's standards- fitting a full-sized bed, a few chests for belongings, a desk, and a bookcase. It even held a small sitting area and a separate door, possibly holding the chamber pot. Great windows overlooked the city below, streetlamps glowing like starlight. Above the city was solid, black, roof.
Persephone caught a glimpse of her captor just as he slammed the door behind him. "You are never to leave this room, Persephone," he mocked. His dark hair was wavy, streaks of ash marring the perfect color. It was course, thick. Probably a hassle to tie back, let alone brush. His beak of a nose was long and thin and his eyes gleamed gold before reverting to a more normal honey color. A strong jaw and set scowl only tickled a distant memory.
His skin was pale, as if never experiencing a day of sun, and a single scar, faded, ran along his right cheek. That was what brought back the memory of Minthe describing the underworld- of the god who lived and ruled there. Hades slammed the door behind him.
Persephone melted against the bed, still clutching the piglet in her arms. Crying.