I didn't need to open my eyes to see his regret because I heard it echo in his voice, but it was accompanied by stubbornness, which I knew all too well. It was a trait of the Olympians. The elders did not back down. His fingers bit into my neck, and I opened my eyes.
“I suggest you keep an open mind when I let you leave the palace. From the heavens to the deepest pits in Tartarus, there is a constant cycle of nature, life and death that must be balanced,” he said, pausing to glance at my lips.
Was he releasing me from my prison?
His crown kept his hair from falling over his face, but it gathered around his neck to blend in with his beard. His complexion was far from pale, as he was golden brown all over.
How was his skin so dark when there was no sunlight down here?
Whatever held my wrists unravelled, and I held onto his upper arms because I didn't want to fall. He rubbed his cheek and bristly beard against my face until he brought his lips to my neck. A strange heat built up inside me. It wasn't from my core energy, and I blushed when I realised it was further down.
“Let me go,” I said, trying to slide sideways away from him and the balcony.
He pressed his hips against mine until I felt his hefty manhood. I began to panic and took deep breaths to calm myself. That was when his fingers locked my neck in place, and the wet tip of his tongue trailed downwards until he reached my clavicle.
“Stop this madness. I will try,” I said, desperate to put some space between us.
Truth be told, I hated being locked inside his Palace. The darkness in his home was crippling me. I wandered aimlessly around the various rooms and halls, but whenever I tried to leave, the shrouded strange souls gathered in front of the doors until I turned away.
My eyes might have adjusted to the dim lighting, but my heart ached at losing the sun and the land. I missed watching Helios’s golden chariot, driving the sun from the East to the West.
Hades lifted me up and moved to the side. I quickly rushed past him to run down the spiralled black marble staircase. I lifted my dress with one hand and kept the other on the wall as I ran. My mind was reeling from his words and touch. I was too preoccupied to see Hades emerge from the hallway's shadow, and I smacked into him with a grunt. The impact pushed me back as I rebounded off his chest.
“Careful,” he said as he grabbed a hold of my arms.
“It doesn't help that you lurk around in the shadows,” I muttered as I stepped away from him.
He never revealed himself in the time I was here, but at times, I could feel his dark energy close to me. He was in the darkest corners of the palace, from the windows, and there were moments when I felt him in my bed chamber.
The longer he left me to my own devices, the more agitated I became. It wasn't only the vast and imposing cage, the stifling stale air, and the dark, dead place devoid of any life. There were no budding blossoms or vibrant trees producing essential elements that drifted in the air. Nothing here provided the natural beauty I was accustomed to.
Hades took my hand and pulled my arm beneath his before placing my hand over his forearm. Unable to look away from our arms, he tugged me through the shadowy depths. I ignored his close proximity because I was desperate to leave my prison, and my curiosity about the Underworld had peaked. Staring out at my new world from the tower wasn't enough.
Chapter 8
Hades
She huddled into me as Charon approached. I was tempted to place my arm around her but she must see for herself that there was nothing to be afraid of. When the boat hit the embankment, she looked up, and I heard her gasp as the new shades began to disembark. I frowned in confusion, trying to see what caused that reaction.
I remembered when I first saw the shades and realised why they struck a cord within her. Each soul carried the weight of their past life. Some clutched at their chests as if still feeling the wounds that ended their mortal lives. Others stared ahead blankly with hollow eyes.
The air was thick with an eerie silence, broken only by the soft lapping of the water against the boat and the occasional mournful sigh or whisper from the shades. Some souls shimmered with a faint light, while others were shrouded in darkness. This was a diverse shipment, young, old, men, women and three children, varying in size.
“This is what becomes of the mortals?” Persephone whispered, but the horror and distress twisted her pretty features.
“I call the souls that arrive shades. They become an echo of who they used to be. Their essence is torn away from the physical body upon death. My duty is to ensure they’re assigned to their appropriate final destination. Order and balance must be maintained,” I said firmly before glancing at her, but she wasn't looking at me.
Her eyes were on the three children who instinctively huddled together. She left my side and walked toward them, only to kneel before them. Charon paused to study Persephone, and I narrowed my eyes at him, but he used his oar to push himself away from the embankment and back through the dark, misty waters. I frowned, wondering why Charon’s gaze towards Persephone roused my anger.
Persephone was hugging the children and whispering to them. The shades began to shuffle along, but I remained frozen, watching the young Goddess offering some comfort to the young shades. She stroked the crown of their heads. I waded through the shades in an attempt to hear what she was saying, but by the time I reached her, she was standing up. Her face was downtrodden, and she was wiping her tears away. She released a shuddering breath before she glanced at me, and I was shocked by the outrage in her eyes.
“The little ones will be looked after?” she demanded in a sharp voice with accusation blazing in her golden eyes.
The indignation of being accused of some wrongdoing against the shades made me stand taller, and I glared back at her. The comforting, icy sensation washed over me.
“There are safeguards in place to guarantee justice. I do not judge the souls. However, I preside over every single ruling to ensure the three judges do not require a fourth for a difficult judgment. I do not have the luxury of causing errors in the Underworld,” I said coldly, thinking about other Gods' wars and petty squabbles. I did not have the luxury of utilising any emotion in my realm.
Her pale cheeks turned pink, but she looked away as the children moved in with the crowd to resume their journey towards the courtyard. It was difficult not to feel slighted by her accusatory tone, but I held my arm out for her, and after an initial hesitation, she placed her hand over my arm.
