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Proserpina, the kidnapped goddess of spring.

Claudia waited her turn, ushered in by one of those skeletal guards. Along with four others – a soldier, a sailor, a gladiator and a brothel girl – she walked through the red-carpeted interior of the grand palace, decorated with many skulls and bones, like the Colosseum she’d seen. Black pillars lined the aisles, with grotesque statues in alcoves between them, while the ceilings were painted with monstrous scenes of death.

Claudia became aware of a ground-shaking rumbling, which came and went in a repeating rhythm. It grew louder as she passed by an open door, which she peered inside curiously.

It was the sound of a god snoring.

Enormous and half-naked, filling the entire room, Pluto was deep asleep in his chambers, causing the entire palace to rattle and crumble with his giant snores.

An attendant drew the bed curtain, though Claudia could still see his big head and feet sticking out, too large to be contained.

She carried on, as Pluto’s snores continued to shake the ground, until she sighted Proserpina on her throne, guarded by a large three-headed dog. It was, to her great relief, asleep.

Claudia joined a short line leading up to the throne, where the Dread Queen waited to decide their fates. She sat behind a marble table, which had a set of scales on one side and a spindle on the other, where lengths of golden thread were stretched and snipped.

Claudia looked around anxiously as the line grew shorter, looking for signs of the goddesses, but they were nowhere to be seen. She feared they might have tricked her.

They were the goddesses of chaos and vengeance, after all.

Once a person’s worth was decided, they passed between one of three doors behind the throne. The doors were identical but Proserpina seemed to know which one was which, directing people left, forward, right.

Claudia grew increasingly afraid as Proserpina weighed the soul of the man in front of her.

‘Hmm. Let us see now.’

Proserpina was just a young girl, barely older than Claudia, wearing a crown of flowers and a sprig of grain pinned to her flowing robes.

‘You will reside in Asphodel,’ she sighed, ‘with all of the other mortals of mediocrity.’

Oddly, the man ahead did not seem upset by this. Perhaps he had imagined much worse for himself.

‘Do not fear,’ she said. ‘It is nice there. They have flowers.’

He let the guards escort him away without kicking up a fuss.

‘Next,’ said Proserpina.

Shaking, Claudia stepped forth and met eyes with the goddess. She thought Proserpina might recognize her immediately, such was her ego, but the goddess didn’t. Her face remained bored and blank as she tried to weigh Claudia’s soul on her scales.

But it seemed there was no soul to be weighed. There was no thread on the spindle either.

Proserpina looked to the empty scales, then back to Claudia, her intimate gaze lingering.

‘You are not dead,’ she said, in a high, musical voice.

‘Am I not?’

‘Why are you here?’

‘That’s a good question,’ said Claudia, remembering that she was supposed to distract the goddess for as long as possible. ‘It’s quite the mystery, actually. I didn’t come on the boat, like the others. I woke up in the place where I died, but nothing was the same.’

Claudia saw a flicker of interest in Proserpina’s expression.

‘Then you must be between life and death,’ she said. ‘I cannot weigh your worth if your soul still hangs in the balance.’

‘Does that mean you can help me return?’

Proserpina frowned, humming, her round, girlish face rumpled with uncertainty.