by Eileen Glass
The everlasting underworld, the place in which gods existed before the Earth made a new physical realm, will be all that is left of Gaia’s sacrifice once she is truly gone. And Hades decided this was more than a fair trade.
Eventually, Hades will be the god of all there is and ever was. His treasures will be last physical things left in the realm. And the gods will have many spirit children to look after. The underworld will not be quiet and depressing when his siblings retire to the final realm.
But all of that will mean nothing—nothing—if Hades doesn’t get Seph to recognize him again.
Don’t let too much of him be gone. Please.
He had an opportunity here. He squandered it. Of all the scenarios to ever befall Seph, including an uncharacteristic plan of sabotage by the homely Demeter, losing Seph so young, so soon, is not something that should ever have happened. It’s not something he has an excuse for.
And yes, thinking of going to Demeter and telling her her only son has died is a terrifying prospect. Not only for her power, for Hades can handle her, but for the grief of losing someone they both held close. Then the shame of facing her, knowing that Hades has harmed her truly, cruelly, outside and in.
Again.
I can’t face that.
I never want to.
“You have to some back to me, darling,” he says, crying. “I can’t exist without you. You’re everything to me. You’re all that I have.”
“He’s not!” shouts a petulant, shrieking voice. “He’s nothing! Just some puny god you took a liking to.”
“Don’t go anywhere. Okay?” Hades cups Seph’s cheek. He’s passed the danger. It’s safe to leave him. But Hades doesn’t think he can let him out of his sight for a long time. “I’m going to take care of something. Then I’m going to be right back.”
Thirty-Four
Hades regrets his choice already. Minthe is such a wicked, insignificant little thing. Punishing him matters, of course. It has to be done. As cruelly and thoroughly as Hades punishes his own children. But Seph is far more important, and seeing to him is the critical issue right now. Not getting revenge.
Hades makes sure his cloak is tucked securely around Seph. He whispers blessings of protection. From cold, from abduction, from attacks. Since the cloak has been around Hades long enough for his essence to have left its residue, he can tack this magic atop the fabric like a quick patch. Temporary, but it’ll do for an hour. Though, he does not expect to be gone long.
Minthe is a very rare kind of devil. One who is self destructive and not afraid of him. But one who is harmless and weak.
He walks toward Minthe, and toward his dog, holding out his hand and summoning his scepter to him. It is a magical, shape-shifting weapon. And after a moment, Hades chooses its form. A long, deadly sharp blade, almost as thin as glass.
The punishment is execution.
And should Minthe be spared the long torture he puts some of his other subjects through?
Shouldn’t Hades at least drag Minthe home in chains first, experiencing the pain of his injuries, which Hades inflicts on his own runaway children?
It wouldn’t be fair to execute him quickly, would it?
He contemplates his feelings and his decision as he approaches the cretin, aiming his sword to stab.
Minthe, though scooting backwards, narrows his eyes and lifts his chin up defiantly.
“Any god would have flown up the cliffs by himself. You know that. And the essence would not be pulled away so easily if he was not weak. Hades, he’s barely more than a mortal. Do you know that? He isn’t better than me.”
Hades is quiet. Seething. But not uncontrolled.
He doesn’t know what to do with Minthe yet. He can’t decide.
“He’s always been better than you. Even when he was a babe.”
“Yeah?” Minthe sniffs. “Then get it over with then. Put me in one of your dungeons. Assign me a punishment. I’m not afraid of you, King Hades, and my fate is your bidding.”
Hades tilts his head, considering. His dog growls faithfully but stands still for now. He understands that Hades wishes to handle this himself.
But how?
It is not clear.
Hades thinks aloud, “There is no purpose in punishing you, Minthe. The things wrong with you are not your fault. You were born with a crack. A deformity. You are not much different than the children who come in with shriveled limbs and blindness. Except that your deformity cannot be seen. It is why your own kind avoid you. It is why you’re all alone.”
“I wasn’t alone when I had you!” Minthe shouts. “I wasn’t alone… And then you didn’t want me. And I didn’t do anything wrong! You just banished me to nowhere! And I tried to fix it. I promised to get better. But you wouldn’t let me prove it to you!”
“Oh, Minthe…”
Hades pinches the bridge of his nose. He’s still reeling in the fear and fury of seeing Seph cling to the rocks, the water nearly sweeping the essence out of him.
Seph’s head bent back, his mouth opening. That is when the spirit escapes. And Hades flew to him, levitating as Minthe pointed out. Most gods with any power can do it. But Seph is… well… a different kind of deformity. One with physical consequences.
Hades could sense the spirit pulling away. It tried to float at first. Gradually it spread and wisps of it disappeared into the ether like steam into air. That is why the Falls of Tartarus and the grinding sails are so important. The force of them takes the souls quickly, all the way down into the well from which the Earth draws her power. Gaia’s beating heart.
Hades put his cloak around the young god to capture his spirit and save the essence from disappearing anymore into winds. Then he carried Seph’s body carefully to the ledge.
His body. His spirit hovered above and around him, tethered by a few thin threads.
There was no guarantee he wouldn’t lose Seph right there. Souls are free of anything Hades might do to contain them. Looking back at Seph now, Hades wonders how he can still feel compassion for the nymph. This same love is what doomed him every time he faced his father.
“You tried to take him from me. And that wasn’t your right.”
Minthe gasps. Murder is not much of a sin to a nymph like it is to a human, but they have a high sense of honor and goodness by their own definition.
Mouth open, searching for words, Minthe finally gets out, “I am your mate! I have your best interests at heart. Even when it hurts me. Even if you kill me! Hades—look at him! Look at the color of his skin! The spots on his face! From the sun! He doesn’t belong here. He doesn’t even look good standing next to you.”
Hades resumes walking forward. Minthe will talk all day, most likely. Due to his deficiency—that parasite, that swirling sickness in his head—Minthe can’t self reflect or understand when he is wrong. The blame is always with others. Which by itself is mere ignorance, but Minthe’s sickness is how he tries to pull innocents into his web.
First he is a friend. Then he sows seeds of doubt. Then, by the end, when he has you isolated and dependent on him, trusting only him, your truths warped by a wicked tongue of lies… Then he feeds. It is a dance to see how much he can toy with you.
Minthe scoots back faster, his lower lip trembling.
He shouts again, his voice taking on a desperate tone.
“He wasn’t good for you! I’ll prove it! You weren’t ever going to show him Tartarus, were you?!”
Now Hades looks down at him over the blade’s point, standing over him. His own eyes in the steel are solemn sadness. His hair has several out of place strands. His expression is pinched like he’s in pain. He can see his mother’s features in himself. He hurt her too with his forgiving love, letting her children be taken and eaten.
Death is the only way. You should have done it the first time, when you realized there was no cure for him.
Well…
Minthe’s chances were slim. It was not likely. But he could technically, maybe have gotten better…
Hades was optimistic. Stupidly so.
Minthe talks in this pause, building up another false world. One where he is always right, and he is always at the center.
“You didn’t show him what you are because you knew he’d never accept you. He’s not your true mate. You’re lying to him, showing him pieces of yourself—only the good parts you think he’d accept. He won’t go on a hunt with you! He won’t help! He’ll just sit around your palace and wait to be fucked. That’s all he does you know! Some mate! He wouldn’t be like me!”
“Minthe… I…” Hades touches his forehead. This shouldn’t be so difficult. Hades should have learned his lesson already. But Minthe’s actions are not his own fault. He is not even truly self aware. He is not here, in this world.
He is his own victim of the manipulative fantasies first and foremost. He wants to harm others. He wants to spread. But he has harmed himself most of all.
“I have not killed a lover before. I don’t know if I can do this,” Hades admits.
And doesn’t that make him unworthy of the throne? Isn’t he still the same flawed, irresponsible son of his father who has done unsurpassed harm to his family?
And aren’t I more deserving of death than Minthe ever will be?
If he was the unbiased judge of these two souls, Minthe’s and his own? Yes, probably.
“But you harmed my mate,” he says aloud, while his thoughts twist themselves. “This cannot be forgiven.”
I would not forgive myself if I let the traitor live after what he did to Seph. If he had succeeded, this wouldn’t even be an issue.
So there is only one way. And no reason to stall any further.
“Go on, do it then.” Minthe spits. “You’re so just. So smart. So loyal, my king, to your stupid new lover with a thick cock. You’re as dumb as your brother, you know that?! Both of you just look for the nearest ass. I would have been more than that, and you know it! I was… I was good too! And you didn’t want me. You still don’t, you stupid… stupid trash!”
His youth makes this painful as well. Hades’s children are playful, but old and wise in spirit. A nymph never quite fully matures. If they did, they’d be interested in starting families and securing material things for their prosperity. A nymph’s view is shortsighted and always rooted in the present. Free, wise to a very basic level of existence, but they are not humans.
The minds of humans are like the gods’.
“I will execute you, Minthe. There can be no other response to your attempt to kill my mate. But first… You must experience pain.”
The blade shimmers and becomes a whip. Minthe stammers, but Hades is through letting him speak.
“Your punishment has no fulfilling purpose. You cannot learn from your mistakes and suffering. But it’s wrong to let you go from this world without experiencing the agony you would have inflicted on others.”
What is the purpose?! his thoughts speak. His essence will go into the pit, and either way, there is no awareness left behind to reflect on his crime. Or even to experience the long lasting suffering his actions would have inflicted.
But that is the gentle part of his soul. Minthe will suffer here and now. Hades will make the pain very great. And then he will go in the pit, and Hades will be done with him.
There are other matters to see to.
“Hades, stop! Wait! I love you! I’m sorry—”
The whip comes down with a crack and Minthe shrieks in pain. There is no pause to think, not anymore. All of this was a reaction to extreme emotion. Usually Hades would not think twice once he determined the correct way to rule. He’s grown from the foolish adoring boy he was.
The whip strikes. It strikes and it strikes. His lips pull back in a snarl, and he goes after Minthe like an angry slaver, paying no mind to his ex-lover’s suffering.
Minthe sobs and gasps and tries to run away. He crawls, bleeding, and the whip opens a gash across his back.
“Stop! Please!”
He sounds like a woman with the harshness of his cry, and somewhere, Hades acknowledges that the slave girl he left in the upperworld may well come to the same fate. He is not a good god, not by any measure.
“You were foolish to harm what is mine.”
He stops. Only because there is not much point in dragging out this agony. There was only a level of pain to be achieved, and he’s reached the most he could inflict with a whip. Now it is time to drag him into Tartarus. He won’t need a weapon for this. The most justified method of execution will be to toss him into the pit, the same as Minthe did to Seph.
From his knees, Minthe looks at him with huge eyes. Then gets his feet under him, running lowly a few steps and collapsing.
Hades does not rush.
“I am the perfect one for you.” Minthe tries to back up, meeting his gaze. Hades’s punishment did not break his spirit, and this hurts Hades’s heart. Before he detected Minthe’s sickness, he admired many of his qualities.
He used to worry about the day Minthe grew old and the grief it would cause.
Now he will be gone even sooner than that, and in a terrible way.
I won’t regret anything. Inaction is the cruelest sin of all.
And yes, Hades has rejected many souls from Elysium for the things they didn’t do. Kindness is a virtue. Timidness is not.
“I love you still!” Minthe shouts, kicking to scoot backwards. Cerberus growls and steps forward, but does not charge.
Minthe throws a rock and it misses Hades, hitting the dog instead.
“I am the one who will help you build this place! I will take on the responsibilities! I am the one you want!”
Hades bends down to grab Minthe’s foot. But suddenly the nymph is up and running! Hades stares after him, realizing the state of his injuries was a bluff. And a stupid one. If running was all it took, Hades would have lost every soul down here already.
Cerberus gives chase. With the prey running, he can’t help himself. But it doesn’t matter. He won’t be first.
He calls on the scepter. It turns into a spear as Hades lifts it overhead, cocking his arm back and launching it through the air. It is not physical prowess alone that sends it at the target. Hades narrows his eyes at his prey, and it sails high and true to aim.
It hits with the whistle of wind, a strike, and a thud. Minthe goes down, some ways away, and his dog skids aside, yelping, surprised.
Hades strides forward calmly. He tells himself that he does not feel anything at the moment except certainty that he must act. Minthe must be punished. And these moments of agony for the nymph? They are nothing compared to what could be experienced.
Why, if Hades chose to grow and swallow the nymph whole like his father did to him, he might get close to the soul-twisting agony Minthe would have inflicted on Demeter. Only for a few seconds though. Minthe would not survived the acid.
His ex-lover struggles to move, coughing blood. His body heaves with nausea and pain, making the spear move inside him and cause wrenching pain. He moans. He tries to make a scream.
He looks at Hades with blood coming down from his chin and intelligible words spitting from his lips.
“S-sorry—”
Hades’s shadow falls over him. Somewhere, the gentle part of his soul screams. And he grabs Minthe by the hair.
His cry of agony is cut off to groans and choking. Slippery, blood-covered hands come to claw and fight his hold. Cerberus growls, lowering to lunge, and barks unhelpfully as Hades handles the nymph himself. He drags him toward the edge, choosing a spot a wide distance from Seph. He won’t carry the traitor so close.
The spear awkwardly scrapes against the ground, drawing a jagged line in the dust. His horse shuffles a few steps, getting out of the way.
“Mercy! Please, my king! I know you won’t listen—but I—I was your beloved!”
Hades only looks at the spot he picked. He must get this done so that he can see to—
Seph appears in front of him. Hades stops immediately, shocked.
>
His love is standing straight, though he should be too weak to move. His brow is low and he looks angry.
“Don’t.”
“What? Seph… He’s—”
“You should go in the pit! Not him. Y-you do this to so many. He only did it to one. Y-you are the evil one. You are the monster!”
Thirty-Five
“Seph,” Hades says gently, though his grip is tight on Minthe’s hair as the nymph tries to pull away. “This has to be done. He is a murderer in my kingdom. He is a traitor against me.” With his free hand, checking first for blood, he cups Seph’s cheek. And when Seph grabs his wrist, it seems the young god is trying to pull him away, but he doesn’t have the strength for that. Hades doesn’t even know how he’s standing. His knees tremble like a weak colt’s.
“You kill more than him. Every day.”
In the distance, there is a great wooden creak and crash as yet another ferryboat slips its cargo over the edge. The humans’ screams from this distance might remind him of the cheers at Greek athletic games—if he did not know the true cause.
How to make Seph understand?
“They are not being murdered. It is a sacrifice, done with reverence and care, the way that mortals will cut the throat of livestock over an alter. A shepherd will choose the best animal in his flock. He will raise it, feed it, and when the time comes—”
“They are not—” His strength fails and Seph collapses forward. Hades lets go of Minthe to catch him, his other hand unfortunately covered in blood and Hades winces for that fact.
He knows the violence Seph sees here today will have longterm affects. Hades hasn’t had time to explain, and the death of another is always hard to watch when you’re young. Even humans may cry for the first animal they see go to its fate.
But now is not the time for explanations and comforting, so he gives a sigh, watching Minthe struggle to get away.
He will not go far with that spear sticking out of his back. It was a good aim, the point traveling upward from the last rib and coming out in the front under his sternum. If anyone simply removes the spear, Minthe will be dead.