The Taste Of Divinity

Δ Ε Κ Α Τ Ε Σ Σ Ε Ρ Α

U N D E R W O R L D.

Minthe woke to the sound of whispers and cries of joy.

They floated all around her, dancing on the shell of her ear but never slipping inside. They annoyed her, drawing a scowl on her pretty face as her hand came to rub her eyes which still clung to the last remnants of sleep.

She lay on her bed for a few moments after, covered in sweat from her latest dream, her latest nightmare. An eternity in the Underworld. An eternity of walking around with her head held high while knives were laid to rest in her back, while her name was filled with disgrace and accompanied by a number of giggles and hushed laughs.

It was unsettling, how her nightmare had woken up alongside her.

Her coverings lay scattered on the floor, a product of her nocturnal frustration. A dainty foot dangled over the bed, tempting the shadows that lurked in the dark, taunting them with their inability to touch her. Oh, and how they wanted to touch.

As she found the strength to stand and dress in the first gown that caught her eye, the sounds grew louder and a strange feeling of anxiety nested in her chest. She couldn't comprehend what they said, her ears twitching with vexation.

She tore the door open with a huff, leaving the room and the house she'd called her own for decades after decades and stepped outside, not even noticing that the usual chattering of her sisters was missing, that their footsteps were nowhere to be heard. She noticed nothing but the endless number of forms that fell into each other on her way to the palace. Drunks who danced, women that cut asphodels and placed them on their heads as though wearing crowns, warriors who sat side by side and drank, couples that touched, exchanging emotions through their eyes.

It irked her.

Inside the palace walls, shadows spoke quietly to each other, one or two stealing glimpses of her as she walked by. She attempted to reach those who'd caught her eye but by the second she'd reached them, they had disappeared. Laughs, more laughs. They made her skin burn, reminding her of the looks and the whispers that usually followed her, the laughs disguised as coughs.

Keep your head high and walk, don't let them frighten you, her own voice reminded her gently, the only ally she had in that realm, in a realm where even her own sisters envied her and her own father despised her, walk. Father should never know what a pitiful creature he has brought into this world. Walk.

"Why are you laughing?" She inquired one of the lurking shadows, her voice soft and even insecure, small. She didn't enjoy being in the dark.

Her hands curled into fists.

The shadow became one with the wall, it's laughter kissing the painted figures on the frescoes and melting into their mouths. "What is there to celebrate here, decay?"

Agisilaos, one of the King's most loyal servants, passed by her, a kylix filled with dark wine in his hands. Without thinking, she grabbed his arm, stopping him.

The shadow turned his eyes to her, a question in his hazy gaze.

A question she answered with one of her own. "Why is everyone celebrating? What are they celebrating?" She was too desperate to know how anyone could find joy in that world. Perhaps, it was as Hades had told her, perhaps she was the one causing her own misfortune.