Elysian Fields

CHAPTER 7

Crimson dripped from knuckles that would no doubt be bruised by morning. Going in for another blow, his fist flew faster than the victim could dodge, and the assailant took pleasure in the moan that escaped from the man's lips. His foot connected with the man's gut, forcing air and blood to spray from his pitiful, swollen mouth.

Generally speaking, Hades didn't much appreciate having to torture those who were sent to the Underworld, but this man...this man was different. Reaching for a crowbar, Hades tossed it in the air a few times, testing the weight in his hands, slender fingers finding purchase against the rough metal.

"Now, let's try this again." The Lord of the Dead's voice was a rumble of fury as he crouched down, grazing the man's jaw with the weapon. "What kind of man are you?"

The swollen man looked up through slits on his face, eyes puffy and bloodied. He took a painful, gurgling breath through his nose, using what little air he could force into his lungs to spit blood at the god before him.

The spray hit Hades' face, scarlet freckles coating the skin. A grin spread across Hades' face, though there was nothing in that smile that was remotely joyful. It was a smile of rage against an injustice and as he hooked the crowbar in the man's mouth, he repeated the question.

"What. Kind. Of. Man. Are. You."

He gave him less than a moment to think before slamming the teeth from his skull.

"Pathetic," Hades breathed, tossing the crowbar aside. "You're a pathetic excuse for a mortal. You're the kind of mortal that I look at and wonder why you were allowed to pollute the world above. Then I get angry because for eternity you will pollute the world below. My world." He stood and began pacing, back and forth, back and forth, clicking his tongue. "I don't like demons in my world. At least not ones that I have not welcomed here, and you, you are not welcomed here."

With a snap of his fingers, a door appeared in a wall that Hades waved open, a trail of heathens from the depths of the realm filing in with menacing grins cemented into place.

"This man," Hades began, his voice booming in the cavernous space, "is a philanderer, a liar, and worst of all, a deserter. He left a woman to fend for herself with a young child. He abandoned them for the love of another who captured his heart elsewhere. He is weak. He is pathetic. Do with him what you will. Just make sure you don't let him pass out when you flay him alive. Any man who leaves a child deserves nothing less."

With one last stop to the man's throat, Hades walked from the room, screams echoing behind him as his demons got to work.

***

Kore looked up at the temple as she got closer, a deep breath rattling through her chest. The building seemed to glow in the moonlight, and she felt a shiver roll down her spine at the idea that the temple was somehow alive. The news had reached her only hours before and she waited until her mother was sleeping deeply before allowing herself to leave her home and process the information she'd been given.

Stepping inside the temple, each of Kore's footsteps echoed, bouncing off the stone walls. Darkness enveloped her, the temple door sealing her within. Cautiously, she made her way to the altar at the center of the room, lip caught between her teeth. The temple of Hades felt strange; almost as if it were welcoming her home. She'd never felt comfortable in any temple of the gods, but she never expected to feel the most peaceful in the Temple of the Dead.

Water filled the large basin surrounding the altar, large enough for multiple bodies to step in during times of sacrifice or remembrance. Kore crouched down, her fingertips disturbing the placid surface, soft ripples emanating from her fingertips. The water was surprisingly cold, a glacial temperature that was out of place for the mid summer's night. Standing slowly, Kore took a deep breath, shedding her clothing, the fabric pooling at her feet. She had nothing to bring to Hades worth value as a sacrifice, so she figured she might as well offer herself up. It's the least she could do, even if she loathed the gods.