Page 118 of He Who Ignites The Flame
“Be cautious around Hades,” Thalia said, her tone icy.
Barrett sucked in a breath and choked on the smoke, falling into a fit of coughs. I turned to find she had snuck up on us, leaning against a nearby tree, arms crossed. Her stormy eyes remained fixated on Barrett, brimming with a silent power that bordered on catastrophic.
Barrett cleared his throat, drawing a deep breath of fresh air.
She pushed off the trunk, her eyes dismissive, nearly cold as she turned to leave us. “He may be more docile now that Persephone’s in the picture, but I remember the times I saw him in The Pits. He’s not to be trusted.”
48
BARRETT
“You ever been to Aidonia?” Atlas asked as the shadows receded, revealing the lush flower-covered slopes of a valley cast in shades of pinks, purples, and blues around us. A river cut down the middle of the valley, snaking through flowery fields, pebbled with small boulders and rocks.
“No,” I said, unable to pull my eyes from the view.
“The Valleys of the Stryass,” Atlas explained. “They were once desolate; nothing could grow here, and the river was poisonous.”
I had heard stories of Hades’ domain, once solely ruled by him until he met Persephone, who brought life back to his lands. The sight of the valley made it nearly impossible to imagine it to be nothing but death and waste.
No matter how many times I’d been to the Godsrealm, no matter which domain I visited, every time was like a punch to the senses. Despite the sunrise casting its warm light across the steep mountain’s ridges, the two massive moons could still faintly be seen amidst the clouds, where a pod of sky whales played. They dipped and danced, their melody like a sad song asthey sang to each other, the sound echoing through the air, the very sound sinking into my bones in a way I would never forget.
“Magnificent aren’t they?” Atlas asked, watching them from my side, the sunlight illuminating the gold-inked tattoos that decorated his face and neck. “They’re said to bring good luck to those traveling by airship.”
“Perhaps they will bestow their favor on us as well,” I said, turning away from the sight to lift my eyes to the towering mountain at our backs.
Atlas slid me a smile. “We can only hope.”
Earth rumbled from the mountain as the face of it seemed to crack, revealing massive gates, separating to make way for an approaching airship. The airships of the Godsrealm were nothing like the airplanes of the Mortalrealm. They were just as much ships in the air as were their sister ships in the sea; wooden and metal vessels, fitted with sails and wings of all different shapes, sizes, and colors.Some were small, private vessels made to carry a family while some were massive, carrying fae to other domains or cargo for trade.
“Wait till you see what it looks like inside,” he said, nodding to where his two personal guards had taken the lead. We started the trek toward the main gate at the base of the mountainside where the river split and flowed underground, connecting to the River Styx.
A small village stood around the entrance to the capital city, Aidonia. Fae folk of every domain came and went along our path, casting weary glances at us as they moved. A goblin-like creature peddling wares from his rickety, wooden cart came to a stop in front of us, blocking our path as he wiped the sweat from his wrinkly, gray-green forehead. When we made to step around him, he sneered at us, grumbling insults in the old language before hoisting the handles of his two-wheeled cart up to continue rolling it forward.
“Katàratos,” he muttered, voice rough, before disappearing into the crowd—the word falling from his lips like a spit on my boots.
I narrowed my eyes on the creature, and Atlas laid a hand on my shoulder.
“Ignore him,” Atlas said and turned his gaze forward as we drew closer to the main gate.
“Kerysoi vôuvolúntae,” a satyr in black armor said, demanding to know our intentions as he tapped the butt of his ornate, Elythian steel spear to the stone ground. Sparks kicked up from where the enchanted metal cracked against rock. It had been some time since I’d spoken the Elythian language, and it still felt strangely like home to hear it.
“My name is Atlas Sideris,and these are my companions,” he said in Elythian as he held his hand out to us. “We are here at Hades’ behest. He should be expecting us.”
“Follow me,” the other guard said, a fae with small, ram-like horns protruding from her helmet, her tail swishing as she turned to place a palmto an etched circle on the wall next to the entrance. She leaned in, as if talking to someone within the stone. “Atlas is here to see Hades.”
She glanced over her shoulder as the gates opened and jerked her chin toward it. “I will escort you to your chambers.”
Atlas’ two guards took the lead, and we followed after them, stepping into the mouth of what was the most monstrous mountain I had ever seen.
“Gods,” I breathed, eyes rising to the countless sky ships flying in all directions beneath the ceiling towering thousands of feet above us, charmed to look like glass. The sky filtered through it, illuminating the interior walls of the hollow mountain cityin rich daylight. Houses and shops were built or carved into the walls of the mountain, pathways and steps winding in all directions. Some were cozy little cottages, some grand villas with balconies overseeing the capital with what must have been the most spectacular view. The city was bustling, fae of every shape and size buying and selling, enjoying the market and restaurants, their voices melding into a distant hum of a thriving metropolis.
“Hades has done well for himself in the recent decades. He has expanded trade with the completion of the second largest airship hanger in all of Elythias,” Atlas said as I passed through the main portion of the city, where countless shops and market stalls stood. Creeping vines clung to the walls of the stone buildings, and lush gardens lined every nook and cranny along the sidewalks and roads. Through the windows of the shops, I found all sorts of wares—small book merchants, potion masters, clothiers, tea shops.
“When I thought about visiting the ruler of the underworld, I did not expect it to be so colorful,” I said, lifting my eyes to what I assumed was Hades’ palace. It was monumental structure carved into the wall of the mountain in such fine detail, I knew it had to have been raised with magic and not built by hand.
We drew the attention of the fae who called the capital home, some halting conversations to cast curious looks our way.
“Many of them have probably never seen an immortal before,” Atlas said, inclining his head with a smile that dripped hidden poison to a passing fae with long, rabbit-like ears—a Kunilas.
