Page 38 of Hades

Heading further down into the guts of the arena where the young Arcs would bunk during training, I expect to see someone or some sign of a training group living and learning. But the bunks are empty, and it doesn’t look like anyone has been here for some time.

“What the fuck,” I repeat as I open the mess hall doors. Arcs eat an enormous amount of food when we are training. This is the one place where there will always be someone. Cooks preparing an endless supply of meat and vegetables, staff cleaning and prepping for the next hungry round of men and boys to eat them out of everything not nailed down. But there is no one.

My pace quickens with each door I open, leading to an empty room. I’m nearly running when I’ve made my way through the training barracks.

“This is not good.”

I don’t bother to skulk through the town connecting the arena to Themis and Ares’ temples, there is no point. Like the arena, the town is deserted. As I walk through the empty streets, I occasionally try a shop door, and every handle I grab is locked.

I’m on high alert, looking around as I walk down the middle of the street, shaking my head in disbelief. I want to take my time and figure out this new issue, but I’m here for a purpose. Determine where Aradia is being kept and find the portal to the Underworld. Not that we couldn’t just waltz through the front gates. Who’s going to stop us?

I’m familiar with the layout of Themis’ grand temple. As an Elite Arc, I was here often for both parties and battle preparation with Ares. Nothing has changed in thousands of years. Highly polished marble lines every grand residence’s walls, floor, and surface. Aradia’s residence was on the southern side, if I remember correctly, so I head in that direction, hoping to run into someone, anyone at this point, because the lack of people is beginning to freak me the fuck out.

I take the spiral stone steps two and three at a time, and it isn’t until I’m at the top that I finally hear voices. Pressing myself against the wall, I stay hidden as I listen.

“Should I summon her mother?” a young woman asks in a panic.

“No, absolutely not. She needs rest. She’s been through an awful ordeal. You heard her mother… he’s held her captive for centuries. She’s traumatized. I don’t understand the need to have the gala tonight.”

“But the guests have already started to arrive.”

I hear one of the women let out a groan of frustration.

“Go and tell Themis that Aradia isn’t feeling well and that as soon as she’s feeling better, I’ll escort her to the gala.”

“Clara, are you insane? I’m not going to tell Themis her daughter isn’t coming. She’ll kill me, or worse. You haven’t been out there. She’s lost her mind.”

As quietly as I can, I peer around the corner. An older woman stands in a doorway, her arms stretched out, not letting the other much younger servant pass.

“Go, and I’ll do my best to prepare her.”

Without another word, I watch as the younger woman scurries off, presumably to speak with Themis. When Clara turns, I sneak to the door she’s left cracked open and peek inside. Aradia is sitting on the bed, wrapped in a towel, her head in her hands, crying. Clara is kneeling in front of her, doing her best to sooth Aradia.

“Why am I remembering things differently? I don’t understand,” Aradia cries. “I only just met him a few days ago.”

“Shh, dear. I know it’s hard to understand. He’s a wicked, wicked man. I was there, Aradia. He kidnapped you. Your poor mother… give her a chance. She loves you so much.”

I’m not sure what is going on, but Hades needs to be aware of what we are walking into. As much as I’d like to run in and steal Aradia away, we should follow the plan, because I don’t think anything is as it should be.

As quickly as I can, I head back down the stairs and across the temple. It’s strange to not find the corridors bursting with people, but it makes getting from one end to the next easy. It isn’t until I get to the main vestibule that I hear the murmur of people. The maid, Clara, had mentioned a gala, and when I look down from the grand staircase, I see hundreds of guests beginning to arrive.

“Shit,” I mutter, because the guests aren’t all Angelic. “What the fuck is going on?”

I’ve known that Themis isn’t to be trusted. But a goddess consorting with demons is deception on an entirely different level. I don’t immediately recognize any of the patrons milling around below. Not until the tall, willowy blonde with the angular features walks in.

“Fuck,”

I can feel my heart rate skyrocket when I see her, and not for a good reason. Pestilence is as evil as her name would entail. If Themis has dealings with her, then we are all in trouble. I’m not going to wait around to be discovered. Pestilence knows exactly who I am, and she wants to collect on my debt. I take a few moments to watch the guests. Most of them shouldn’t be able to exist here, never mind attending one of Themis’ galas.

As quickly and stealthily as I can, I race through to the other side of the temple. I don’t bother with looking for any of the Arcs. It’s more important that I make it back to Hades and we return to get Aradia. Whatever this gala is, it isn’t to celebrate Aradia’s safe return.

The last thing I need to locate is the portal that Ash and I found when we were children. It was in the bowels of the temple, below the prison area. We found it completely by accident, searching through the catacombs and taunting the prisoners. Neither Ash nor I ever expected that it would lead to the Underworld, and fuck were we surprised when that’s where we ended up.

To this day, I still think that’s when my soul became tainted.

Walking through the prison area, I imagine my brother being kept here before his fall, waiting for Themis to judge him. And for what? A fucking lie. Putting the past aside, I grab a torch from the wall and push through the ancient door that leads down into the oldest parts of the Heavens. The catacombs are off-limits to everyone except two ten-year-old boys who went looking for an adventure.

The spiral stairs are never-ending as I descend into the darkness. The only sounds I hear are the beating of my heart and the trickle of water against the stone. I don’t remember the descent taking so long, but at ten years old, I probably didn’t care. It was an adventure, and we were Elite Arc boys.

---