Danae closed her eyes. She was so tired, so very, very tired.
Then she thought of what Manto had said in those final moments before they pushed her over the side of the ship to save her from the harpies.
I know you’re scared, but you must believe me, you are the last daughter. You are the hope of mankind.
Danae opened her eyes and whispered into the gloom, ‘When the prophet falls, and gold that grows bears no fruit, the last daughter will come. She will end the reign of thunder and become the light that frees mankind.’
She thought of all those who had died at the hands ofthe gods. All those mortals suffering in despair beneath the Twelve’s tyranny, slaving under the false hope that one day they would be reunited with their loved ones.
If Prometheus was right about the afterlife, then he was right about her.
She must become the flame and light her own way out of the darkness.
With a colossal effort, she curled her legs over the side of the bed and pushed herself to standing. She took one small step, then another, until she stood before the table, looking down at the silver tray of bread, olives and cooked meats.
She picked up a piece of bread, lifted it to her lips, and took a bite.
13. The Creator
Danae had not long eaten her fill when the shades came.
Without protest, she let them escort her from her room, down the labyrinthine corridors of Hades’ palace. From what she could gather, the feast chamber seemed to be the heart of the building, the other rooms and corridors snaking away like arteries flowing from it. She tried to commit the route to memory, but she could not hold the layout in her mind. It felt as though the corridors and pillared passageways were part of an endless warren burrowing into the earth.
Finally, they arrived at a thick marble archway, another ebony door cracked ajar beneath it. Danae glanced over her shoulder. The shades lined the corridor behind her, their bodies forming a wall of shimmering, translucent flesh.
Summoning her mettle, she walked through the doorway.
The chamber resembled the inside of a giant beehive. A honeycomb of shelving curled around its width, right up to where the ceiling domed high above. Thousands of scrolls were crammed into the square compartments, bronze numerals glinting at each cross section beside more symbols she did not recognize. A great shard of crystal, the size of a cart, was embedded in the roof, casting an eerie, cold light on the tiled floor below. A mosaic of an emerald serpent was coiled around the circumference of the room, twisting in on itself to bite down on its own tail. It was the only piece of artwork she had seen in the Underworld. At the centre of the chamber was a mahogany desk, scrolls of parchment laidout in perfect lines upon its polished surface. And poring over an unfurled roll, was Hades.
‘Do come closer. I won’t bite.’
Slowly, she approached the desk. Behind Hades, another archway cut into the shelving, mirroring the doorway she’d just passed through. Not much of the room beyond was visible except a stone slab raised up from the floor.
The God of the Underworld surveyed her. ‘What do you think of my kingdom?’
‘There’s a lot of life in the land of the dead.’
The left corner of his mouth twitched.
‘You could have just told me the afterlife isn’t real.’
Hades blinked. ‘Emotions can be deafening. Some things need to be seen to be believed. But now you know the truth, we can speak plainly. We shall begin with you relaying what Prometheus told you about your prophecy.’
Danae fought to keep her expression calm. ‘Or we could start with why you lied to Hermes about my whereabouts.’
Hades did not seem surprised to learn that she knew about their conversation. She wondered if her door had been left open on purpose.
‘I would have thought that was obvious. I want to help you.’ He stepped out from behind the desk, the sharp angles of his body at odds with the smooth ripples of his dark robe. ‘Tell me, are you happy with how my brother rules the mortal world?’
She did not trust herself to speak. Hades might have kept her alive and guarded her identity from Hermes, but he was still one of the Twelve.
He watched her intently. ‘I am not like them. I did not choose this role. It was not my desire to craft the fiction of an afterlife hidden beneath the earth. But Zeus believed that to truly win mortals’ devotion, he must first ensnare their souls.After all, it is the great human obsession – what becomes of their ghosts after their bodies perish.’
‘What does happen when we die?’ Her voice sounded small in the vast room.
‘Oblivion.’
Danae opened her mouth, but no words came. She could feel the weight of the earth above her, the soil packed with empty husks that had once been people. Alea was gone, erased. Everything she had been burned away like morning dew. The world carried on as though she had never existed, the only evidence of her life the crater she’d left in Danae’s heart.
