Hades and Persephone

Chapter 3: Past, Present, and Future

The nearest village was Helorus, so it was easy for Hades to guess where the women were wandering off to. That first night he saw them run off he wanted to follow, see how it dealt with actual souls.

Alas, he could not. He had to figure out a way pass those wards. Another time.

Hidden away from gods and mortals alike, at the mouth of a river, was a hidden entrance to the underworld. It acted as a private entrance for Hades since he did not like visitors. The entrance other gods used was a cave somewhere in Taenarum. That was why Hermes' deliveries took so long.

He walked along the river the town had been named for. Mist whipped up at his feet as the empty moon rose above. Hades pulled his cloak a little tighter around him and double checked his helm was still atop his head. No light guided his path, but the whispers were enough to follow.

The mortal side of the river reflected what little starlight was bright enough to make it to the earth. Whispers of spirits sucked the life from the world. They spoke nothing but sorrow and sadness. It was enough to drown some minor gods if they stayed long enough, let alone the mortals. More than once some poor traveler wandered a bit too close to the entrance and decided not to leave.

Any sounds the river had made, no matter how slight, stopped at the mouth of a cave. That was where Hades stopped his stroll. It was also where the spirits became visible, giving Hecate a run for her money. Perhaps I should have Hecate build a ward to keep them in.

Hades produced a single coin from thin air. Where most coins from the mortal world were oddly shaped and lumpy, his was perfect in every way. One side held Zeus' likeness, the other a two-pronged scepter. He flicked the coin into the lake; a few souls making a desperate grab at the coin only to fall in with it. They screamed and flailed in the water as if it was acid.

A single boat came up the river to meet him. Its dark wood was slimy and coated in ghostly algae wherever the river touched it. Planks looked rotted in places, but Charon always insisted it was safe. Hades removed his helm as he saw it approach.

Charon himself looked as rotted as the boat. The moth-eaten hood hid a battered and charred face. What skin still hung clung to the skull like freshly pulled leather.

Centuries of ferrying souls gave him strong arms and a perfect posture. Red, white, black, and green cloths wrapped around his torso. Pristine at the shoulders yet tattered beyond repair as it neared the hem. Each color represented a different river of the underworld.

"Hello, Charon."

He nodded in reply. "My Lord." Hades stepped on to the boat, using the ferryman's offered hand to steady himself. "How has the surface treated you?"

"Zeus." It was a simple answer. One that answered any future questions as well.

"What has the lord asked of you this time?" Charon pushed the boat back into the river, guiding it downstream and into the cave. A few spirits in the water attempted to grab onto the boat only to go sliding off.

"Hera."

The river, once inside the cave, gave off a ghostly green glow to light their way. It turned and twisted until even Hades was confused. The only sounds were the two's small talk and the trickle of water as Charon drove the boat further down.

The river Acheron narrowed until the edges of the boat skidded across the cave walls. Charon had to duck his head as the tunnel itself seemed to shrink. Both opened up abruptly into a much larger space. Slimy green waters turned inky and black. The smell of salt became heavy and metallic.

The fiery river Phlegethon casted blazing light throughout all the underworld. Its scorching waters only burned those who tried to escape Tartarus. Hades had the perfect view of it as they traveled the Styx. Soot and ash clung to him as they passed by.