Hades and Persephone

Chapter 18: Sometimes Even Violently

Double update! Yay!

Have I made up for not writing in like 2 months?

Hades made a point of Persephone standing in the front, sandwiched between him and the front of the chariot. To add insult to injury, the reigns were held on either side of her so there was no way for her to escape if need be.

"I think you know Des fairly well." There was a hint of mockery in his voice. "It's where the nymphs live, certain shades may reside if they are waiting for a judgment or lower tier guests of the underworld."

"Low tier?"

"Demigods mostly. Your siblings."

Suddenly, the mares took a sharp turn onto a neighboring street. The chariot turned onto one wheel for a brief moment, Persephone being thrown into what felt like a metal bar because of it. Hades seemed entirely unaffected, glued to the spot he stood in.

"Shopping district," Persephone hardly had time to look at the multicolored tents and tiny pop-up shops set up along the street before he whipped down another, identical, one.

"Residential, lower." The homes swept by in a blur, Persephone only making out streaks of gray with spots of color she wasn't entirely sure wasn't just a side effect of Hades' driving.

Another sharp turn flung her the other direction, the leather reigns cutting into her skin like a whip. "Residential, upper." It was just more gray, more spots, more blurs. If she was lucky she caught the outline of a person diving onto the nearest sidewalk to get out of the way of the speeding chariot. "Then, of course, there are the actual realms of judgment!"

Instead of turning down a different street the mares shot straight up at Hades' command, the chariot chasing after them. Persephone was lifted off her feet, the only reason she didn't fall being Hades' wall of a body.

Hellish earth sprouted out before her as the flew overhead. Every inch red, every inch harder than stone and clay, and every inch incapable of even the slightest growth. As they dove into it her hearing and vision were bombarded by nothing but violence. Piercing screams, begging for forgiveness, snapping whips, bones cracking soon followed by the crumbling of stone. The air was heavy and heated, but moist and tainted with a tinge of blood. Fiery water ran throughout the entire land, the only plants that could even pretend to love in such a landscape grew along its banks. Their leaves bitch black against the red, stalks jagged and leaves spiny.

"Welcome to the Fields of Punishment!" He stretched out his hands as if proud of the torture. "We welcome just about anyone in"—he reached down so his lips were at her ear—"but they don't often get to leave."

"How are you-"

"Moving on!" The chariot drove into the river, the glowing waters splashing her feet and ankles. Perhaps searing pain should have taken over—perhaps it did—but at the moment all Persephone felt was adrenaline.

The river twisted and turned at every available opportunity, and Hades took the same path as they traveled up river at breakneck speed. This way and that, Persephone was thrown about like a neglected sack of flour.

Snapping to a stop, Hades gave her only the briefest of moments to take it all in.

Men and women alike, each sat alone and waited. Perhaps for grass to grow, or the paint of their shabby identical shacks to dry. None talked to each other, though they were easily in earshot.

Each shack in the field was built with the same dull wood, the same white and red flowers, and bordered with the same spires of cypress. Each bud in the earth just on the cusp of bloom, each cloud on the cusp of rain, each grass blade on the cusp of death. Everything hanging by a thread to whatever spark was still in them; whatever hope still flickered.