Page 36 of His in the Dark

After a long, quiet tour, we walk down a cobblestoned path lined with dark blooms that leads us to the front of his castle.

“This path,” I say, pulling one question from the ocean of others in my mind. It feels different here.It feels familiar.“Is it—what is it?”

“It is the path by which we see the realm,” Hades says. It must not be real the way mortals think ofreal, but it is here nonetheless. I have the sense that the Underworld is vast—far more vast than I’d realized—and that the only way to travel its lengths is by this path.

As we walk, Hades holds out his hand to gesture at a place brimming with greenery and sunlight.

“Elysium,” he says. “The souls of heroes dwell here. Demigods and great mortals as well.” In the far distance, I can see houses. A town, perhaps. Wide streets with people crossing this way and that. “They may return to Earth, if they choose.” I flinch at such a thought.

A glimmering sea appears, and another lush outcropping of green.

“The isle of Achilles,” Hades says, hardly glancing at it. “And Odysseus. That is where they dwell.”

After a few more minutes, we cannot see the green fields from the path any longer. Instead, when Hades gestures, it’s intocaverns, so dark I cannot see where they end. Fire brims from outcroppings in those caverns, molten and hot as it lands.

Large shadowy figures in the shadows cry out, their voices like rocks scraping against one another. Something drags and clinks. Metal chains? A chill flows down my spine and my eyes widen with alertness.

“The Titans,” Hades says, tone dismissive. “Old gods that Zeus and I overthrew. They dwell in Tartarus with all those who rebel against the guards.”

Zeus. The mention of my father brings back other emotions along with the acknowledgment of my predicament. I do my best to cover the feelings and focus on his statement. The Titans… I know all about the Titans from my father’s stories. May they suffer for eternity. All but Hecate of course.

I want to turn my eyes away from the prison. “In the dark? In chains?”

“They suffer for all eternity,” Hades says. “Eternal hunger. Eternal thirst. They are broken on an eternal wheel. Their flesh burns without ceasing.”

I swallow hard, sweat pricking on my forehead.

Light appears on the path ahead of us. “But,” I begin, thinking of my faithful friend and her worship. “Hecate.”

“Not Hecate,” Hades agrees. “Hecate has access to all the realms and retains power under Zeus.”

Mother of Witches, Queen of Ghosts, Keeper of Keys and Crossroads, Hecate is the only Titan to rule after the wars. As she should.

Never have I met her, but often I think of her as Mother.

It is not sunlight we step into as we leave Tartarus behind, but a gray, cloudy sky. It is not raining, though the air is heavy with drops yet to fall. It is the light of a stormy afternoon, one where the sun will not come out from behind the clouds, but will set into darkness without ever brightening the fields below it.

“The Fields of Mourning,” Hades says, his voice softer. “Those who took their own lives dwell here.”

“All of them?” I question. I’ve heard the tales and I have questions. But I do not know the details and in my curiosity, I must ask. These thoughts concern me.

“The ones who could no longer bear the sadness of a lost love.”

Nodding slightly, I attempt to understand.

“Will they be alright?” I have to ask.

“In time,” Hades responds, his dark eyes seeming to look through me in a way I have to avert my gaze.

Clearing my throat, I allow him to continue to lead me. All the while, I attempt to memorize every inch of this place and search for a way out. For the river perhaps.

The light brightens. Sundoespeek out, but I cannot see where it is from the sky. The next area we pass seems hazy in my eyes, the colors deep and saturated, like jewels. Buildings with tall arches are just visible in the distance.

“The Land of Dreams,” Hades intones. “Ruled by Morpheus. He hosts souls while they dream, for he designs the dreams.”

As Hades continues to lead me, his hand steadily on my lower back, the clunk of the boots from the guards is a reminder that I too am stuck here wherever Hades deems me worthy.

We pass a large gate made of metal that gleams in the light. A tall figure in dark robes, the hood pulled up over his head, stands near the gate, hands folded. He does not look impatient in the least. A smaller figure stands next to him, shoulders hunched.

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