Page 23 of Tempted By Hades

The tiny dog, despite his divine origins, seemed to relish the attention, his small tail wagging in response to the affection bestowed upon him.

“So, am I forgiven for my transgression?”

She glanced up at him slyly as her nose pressed up against Orthrus’s mane. “I suppose…if you still plan on fulfilling your promise.”

“Of course I do.” He held out his hand. “Come, let’s go now.”

Her eyes landed on his hand, moving up his outstretched arm, further up to his neck and face—stopping briefly at his lips—until their eyes met. “Yes,” she said as she tucked Orthrus under one arm and took his hand.

In an instant, he transported them to the Underworld, to the perfect place where they could begin their tour—right at the entrance, where she could see one of his realm’s unique features.

As Hades stood beside Persephone in the depths of the Underworld, he gestured towards the celestial canvas above, seeking to convey the unique beauty of his realm. “You see,” he began, his deep voice resonating in the quiet expanse, “the sky here defies the conventions of day and night as you know them.”

During what could be termed as the ‘daylight’ hours, Hades pointed to the soft pinkish glow that bathed the obsidian landscape. “In this realm, I’ve fashioned a perpetual twilight, casting a delicate light akin to the first blush of morning. It’s a promise of beginnings, even in the eternal gloom.

“And as the hours pass into what resembles nightfall, the sky transforms into an evening dusk. The deep blue and purple tones overhead create a celestial spectacle, reminiscent of the peaceful moments as the mortal world bids farewell to the sun.”

Hades endeavored to articulate the balance of light and shadow he had carefully woven into the fabric of the Underworld. “The boundaries between day and night blur, and the sky becomes a timeless masterpiece, a reflection of the enduring nature of our realm.”

Taking her hand again, he whisked them to what the Underworld was perhaps best known for.

Hades felt a subtle weight in the air, a manifestation of the Underworld’s somber power, from its mostancient waterway. Gesturing, he began to explain to Persephone the significance of this mythic river.

“The River Styx,” he began, “is what separates the mortal realm from the Underworld. Its waters hold power, a mystical force that transcends the mere physical.”

He pointed to the ebony surface of the river, where dim reflections of unseen depths danced with an otherworldly glow. “Styx is more than just water—it’s a current of ancient energies. Mortals believed that a single drop of this river’s essence could invoke an unbreakable oath, binding even the mightiest gods.”

Hades continued, guiding Persephone’s gaze along the river’s winding path. “It’s a testament to the enduring nature of this realm, a symbolic barrier between life and death. Souls are ferried across its dark expanse by Charon, the ferryman, to their final resting place.”

The lord of the Underworld spoke with a quiet reverence. “Within its waters dwell souls that couldn’t find their way into the Underworld. These lost souls, denied their final resting place, are bound to the Styx. Attempting to cross it, they become a spectral force, devouring any soul that dares to traverse its currents.”

As they stood on the riverbank, Hades hoped that this glimpse into the profound essence of the Styx would deepen Persephone’s understanding of the intricate tapestry that defined the Underworld.

“Where else can you take me?” she asked, her voice and expression somber.

He thought for a moment. “If you are sure you want to see all of the Underworld?—”

“Yes.” Her chin jutted out defiantly. “I want to see all of it. Even the bad parts.”

The “bad” parts made him flinch inwardly, but from millennia of practice, he managed not to show his disdain for the term. “As you wish.”

He led her down the river, following the banks until they stood at the entrance to the “bad” part. The air around them grew heavier, carrying the weight of malevolent forces and the anguished whispers of tormented souls.

“Welcome to Tartarus.” His voice was as neutral as he could make it. “It is the abyss that reaches into the very heart of the Underworld. A place for the souls of mortals who have committed unspeakable evils. It’s their eternal dwelling, a realm of perpetual torment fueled by personal anguish and indignity.”

Persephone interrupted, “But why, Hades? Why such a place of unending suffering? What purpose does it serve?”

Acknowledging her questions, he continued, “It’s a place that feeds on the suffering of those who find themselves ensnared within its grasp. The cries of the wicked echo through its cavernous depths, each soul subjected to its own personalized torture.” The gates loomed before them, sealed tight against the unseen horrors within.

Persephone pressed on. “Are there no chances for redemption? Must these souls endure eternal torment without hope? Is there no end to their suffering?”

He responded, his expression solemn, “Tartarus is a realm where the weight of one’s misdeeds manifests in the form of relentless torment. Redemption is a concept that finds little foothold here, as the darkness within these souls resists the embrace of redemption. Would you like to continue?”

“I…” She bit her lip. “Of course. I told you, I want to see all the parts of the Underworld.”

A lie, he could tell. Or at least, she was trying hard not to show her fear—or perhaps disappointment—at what was around her. “There will be time later to explore the depths of Tartarus together. My realm is vast, and truly, we could spend centuries just here.”

“Well, I do have to get back before dinner.”

---