by Cassie Day
With the same tilt of her head, she purses her mouth and shakes her head.
“I thought not. You gods and goddesses? You know nothing of true loss.”
“Is that right?” she asks, glancing over her shoulder at the ball of shadow.
I lunge forward, stopping when our noses are almost touching. “All of you spoiled gods sit and watch us fail over and over again.”
She says nothing.
“If I bring my mother back, it’s true she will die again.”
I pant, my gaze frantically searching.
“And then?” Nyx asks.
I blink away a hot swell of tears. “And someday I will die too.”
Nyx hums, draping a cool arm across my shoulders. The shadow tendrils aren’t light nor heavy, instead the frothing texture of a thick mist. I should scream and hit but I sink into the folds of her dress, pressing my face to one smooth shoulder to hide my tears.
If I close my eyes and forget, she becomes my mother.
“Child,” she whispers into my hair. “Think of yourself. No one else will.”
And for a long time, I pretend her voice is my mother’s soft cadence. I pretend there’s comfort to be found if only I squeeze hard enough.
Chapter 13
NYX VANISHES WITH A searching look.
I breathe and I’m at the shore, calling for Charon.
Breathe again and the boat stops in front of me, a fresh group of souls aboard. I sit without a word. Some of the souls look at the never-ending night sky the entire boat ride, wane smiles on their faces. Others mumble to themselves.
How did they die? Asking will disturb the hushed peace settled over the boat. I bite my tongue to keep the questions inside.
All these deaths, all these souls. My mother sat on these benches not so long ago. If I bring her back, how long before she sits here again? A handful of pregnant months, perhaps a year. But wrinkles lined her face, gray striped her hair, and if another child doesn’t claim her, age will.
And someday death will come for me. Another famine or a fishing net. A starving shark or a fisherman’s spear. Age or sickness. So many ways to die without a single way to predict how. Only the Moirai know and they won’t share the secrets of the fates they weave.
I won’t be another nameless death among my kind. I refuse to be.
The boat carries on. Instead of the light-filled building where the judges reside, it pivots around one last bend and lurches to a stop. Hades’ palace looms, the man from earlier rushing toward the boat before the bridge slots into place against the gravel.
“There you are!” He places one hand on his knee, catching his breath.
I turn to Charon.
A tail swings in a lazy arc behind him. He shakes his head. “Not me,” he says.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
My voice is lifeless. I can’t muster anything else. The search, coming here, Hades’ winding palace, and Nyx; all of it has left me empty of anything but fear.
“Hades has granted you an audience.” He pauses, waving his hands frantically. “Immediately.”
We rush through the palace, the endless turns lost to my rising panic. My lungs heave by the time we twist around a turn and stop in front of two thrones. The room is more of the same: black stone, white marbling, dim light.
Hades’ lean form sits on one throne—all precisely tailored tunic, a thin silver belt studded with garnet, and slicked-back hair with not one strand out of place.
On the second throne, Persephone is not the sun-kissed goddess I expect. Maybe she could be beyond the pallor stuck to her skin and the drawn expression on her face. She turns and raises both brows at Hades.
Her throne is black yet lightened by branches of flowers woven through the delicate archway opening on the back. The flowers shift between startling cobalt, crimson, and buttery yellow, all blossoming near the harvest goddess.
They’re beautiful as only the gods are; so bright with beauty my eyes hurt from staring them in the face. I focus on the base of their thrones instead.
“Zeus seeing to your return?” Hades scoffs. His voice is softer than I expect but no less biting. “He cares little for such things. Likely he’s being led around by his dick as per usual.”
Persephone sighs. “Watch your language. If he’s being led by an organ, perhaps it’s the correct one.”
A drawn-out pause.
I glance up through my lashes. Hades’ grimace, imagining exactly what those other organs could be, has laughter bubbling at the back of my throat. I swallow it down. Better to let them speak without noticing my presence. An interruption might lead to them disliking me from the start.
Another sigh. “His heart, darling.”
Hades grunts. His mumble is petulant enough to belong to a child. “His heart is a shriveled shell at best.”
The man who led me to the base of the thrones clears his throat, bowing. “A visitor, your majesties.”
They turn their heads. I cow beneath their stares, bowing my head further. Where has my bravery gone? Lost in the face of meeting powerful beings not so kind as Charon.
“Come forth, mortal girl,” Hades says.
“Be nice,” Persephone says with a pat to his hand.
He turns his and grips hers. Their hands clench tightly together.
For the first time I recall, I don’t question why Persephone chose to stay in this realm after her mother Demeter began freezing Prasinos into a barren wasteland. She ate those pomegranate seeds tying her to this place not to smooth ruffled feathers between her mother and husband, but to remain here with the man she loves.
She watches the entrance like she expects to be torn away from her husband at any moment. Persephone grips tighter to Nekros with each year, clear in the bruising grip of their hands.
I’ve heard of romantic love. Eudoxia alone has provided tales of her lover. Yet this is my first time truly seeing it eye-to-eye.
And perhaps this, most of all, is what softens them, turning them from immense gods to people with emotions and wants not so dissimilar to mine. So I do the bravest action I can muster: I open my mouth.
But my nerves return. These are the gods who struck down my ancestors. Hades fell in love with Persephone lingering in a flowering spring field, tempting her away from her guardians: the sirens. And according to Aunt’s stories, Persephone didn’t once speak for the sirens when they were cast from the skies to the depths of the Akri Sea in punishment. In exile.
I bite my tongue, letting the copper hint of blood fill my mouth with each passing moment of silence. Something shifts at the corner of my sight. I bow my head further, glancing from beneath my lashes. A shadow peels from the wall.
Charon, face blank, staring not at the gods but at me. He nods once; a sharp movement. Then he dissolves back into the shadows.
I have his support. Would I still if he knew I broke our promise? If he knew how deeply Nyx’s influence seeps into my plan?
“Well?” Hades says. “What do you want?”
My head rises. I meet his eyes, praying I show unwavering strength instead of the nerves swirling in my chest.
Footsteps echo, drawing closer with each passing moment I’m silent.
Hades’ stare flits over my shoulder. His mouth turns down in a severe frown. “What do you want?”
Persephone jabs him in the side with an elbow, her face a perfect picture of false politeness. For a moment her skin is not so sallow. I view her as she truly is: radiant.
“I didn’t want to miss the lovely girl’s plea,” a familiar voice says.
Zeus.
A shiver ripples across my skin, goosebumps trailing in its wake.
Zeus passes too close. His arm brushes against my side, close to my breast. He throws me a sidelong grin. With a quick inhale, I step away from his overwhelming scent of ozone.
Hades works his jaw, gritting his teeth, and glowers at Zeus. “Of course.”
Charon’s shadow flickers but he doesn’t emerge. Part of me wishe
s he would offer support now, when Hades’ anger consumes him further with each step Zeus takes. Yet I remember his dislike of godly politics. I’m beginning to understand why.
“Calm yourself, brother,” Zeus says. “I’m here only to observe.”
I glance between the two.
Zeus, freckled with a deep tan and golden hair strewn across muscular shoulders. Hades, lithe and dark-haired with features pointed like an angular bird. Brothers born of the same mother and still impossibly opposite.
Zeus stops beside Hades’ throne, throwing one arm across the back. He chucks Hades under the chin with a grin. “Relax, I won’t interfere.”
But I can, he doesn’t say.
Hades glares, baring his teeth in a snarl. Persephone jabs him in the side again and his attention flicks away, landing on me.
“Well, get on with it,” he says with a yawn.
I clear my throat, then blink. A portrait of my mother’s face, dull and lifeless, paints itself across my eyelids.
Her final words. Carry on.
“I’m Agathe,” I say. “And I plead for safe passage to the Olympian Palace.”
Silence. Dreadful silence.
My one chance to save her and I’ve thrown it all away. Gods, I should’ve saved her. But her corpse becomes mine, lost to the tide of water and time. Cousins would forget my face. Their children would forget my song. Future generations would forget I ever existed at all.
I refuse to die alone and forgotten in that godsforsaken sea.
Hades’ frown deepens. “If you want safe passage to the Olympian Palace, you’ll bargain for it.”
“A bargain,” I repeat, expecting as much.
“Is that all?” Zeus smiles, teeth gleaming a startling white in the dark room.
Hades lifts a hand without shifting his stare from mine. “You said you wouldn’t interfere.”
Slouching, Zeus sighs. “I suppose I did. Bargains are above my rule, besides.”
Nothing worth having or holding is free. Even Orpheus and his beloved wife faced a twist in their story: never look back at her, not once before leaving Nekros, and his wife would live again.
Hades nods.
I bite my lip, trying to ignore how Zeus tracks the movement. Charon shifts in the shadows behind a pillar. Horns jut from his head, long and twisted, but I can’t make out his face.
The politics of the palace court—I’ll be lost in their depths without a single ally. With Zeus’ lustful attention. His wife, Hera, might track my every move.
“If I fulfill this bargain,” I say, slow but thankfully steady. “May I bring an ally with me?”
Hades snorts. “I suppose. Another mortal, yes?”
“No. I’d like to bring Charon.”
All attention snaps toward him. Charon lurches back. His horns grow further, twisting in great spirals above his dark hair.
With a white-knuckled grip on his throne, Hades leans forward. “You’d deprive me of Nekros’ only ferryman?”
Part of me screams to flee. I ignore it, clutching my hand to my stomach like it pains me. “Only if I win.” I continue in a mumble I’m sure they hear. “Not that I will.”
Hades leans back, brows flicking upward. He assesses me coolly. Finally, he smirks, confidence oozing from his expression.
“Hades,” Persephone hisses. “She toys with you.”
He snorts. “Of course she does. But she makes a valid point: what mortal could fulfill a bargain made with a god?”
I hold in gasp. They truly don’t know what I am. I thought they’d take a look at me and know. Yet even Zeus, the king of gods, shows no hint of knowing.
Heart leaping, I hide a smile by coughing and covering my mouth with a fist.
Persephone leans closer. “Perhaps all the men in those stories the mortals like to flaunt around? They’re true stories.”
He waves an imperious hand. “True stories or not, those men had god blood running in their veins.” He nods toward Zeus. “Usually his.”
Zeus returns his nod, utterly unrepentant at siring children with mortal women despite being married.
Persephone leans back in her chair with a grimace. “Don’t come crying to me when you lose Charon.”
Charon twitches but says nothing.
“Fine,” Hades says, a sharp smile in place. “Agathe, I’ll grant your two requests should you complete our bargain.”
I drop into a low bow. “Thank you.”
I stumble over what to say next. Do I say my king when there’s two kings in the room? Instead of risking offense, I say nothing.
“Should you fail, you will spend eternity as one of my servants. Agreed?”
I nod. After a lifetime toiling in the Akri, living as his servant isn’t much of a punishment. His living servants are rounded and well-fed. The famine doesn’t reach here.
“For our bargain, you must complete a single task.” There’s laughter in his voice. “Find me a comb containing a jewel of shifting colors in Asphodel Meadows.”
Persephone clears her throat. “Within a day’s time.”
He sighs but doesn’t argue.
“I agree.” Thinking of the perpetual night sky above, I purse my mouth to one side. “How will I know the time?”
“Charon will keep you apprised of the time. He’ll linger at the shores of Asphodel.” Her stare moves to Charon. “Though he won’t help you otherwise.”
Charon nods, stepping free from the shadows. His horns are gone. Except for the black staining his arms and legs, he appears mortal. He bows at the waist and hesitates in the position as if he doesn’t dare bring more attention to himself. His hands are gripped tight in the folds of his pants.
If I succeed, when I succeed, he’ll be forced into the politics of the Olympian court. It doesn’t matter. I need an ally, even an unwilling one, if I’m to survive.
“You may begin...” Hades squints into the distance. “Now.”
Chapter 14
“WHAT IS ASPHODEL LIKE?” I ask when the quiet becomes unsettling.
Charon looks into the far distance. He doesn’t turn at my words. If anything, he turns further away. He doesn’t answer.
I lean forward, bench digging into my thighs. “Charon?”
Another beat of quiet except for the churning water below. Then, “Agathe.”
My smile quirks into place. I scoot back on the wide bench until I’m comfortable again. A moment of dizziness—the boat bottom twisting until the curved slats become skewed slivers of wood.
A shake of my head and the boat solidifies. I stare at a tuft of his unruly hair. “What’s wrong?”
His jaw works. He inhales once, blows out a gusting exhale, and turns. His eyes flash, cool gray transforming to liquid silver.
“What’s wrong?” he mimics in a rumble.
I nod, shrinking back on the bench. A vice tightens around my chest.
His hands unclench. He doesn’t lift a hand. Doesn’t yell. My heart slows its galloping pace. He won’t hurt me. This is Charon, not Bion’s father.
The river bends to the left, the boat tilting to match, but our stares don’t waver.
“You truly don’t know,” he says, shoulders uncoiling. “Are all mortals so oblivious?”
“Are all ferrymen so ready to hide in shadow?”
Amusement flares in his expression where I expected rage to return. His mouth purses to hold in a laugh. Have I heard him laugh beyond a tiny huff?
“When they’re surrounded by powerful gods? Yes.”
I nod. “Then I suppose most mortals are quite oblivious, myself included this time.”
He ducks his head to hide a smile. “Why include me so readily in your plans to go to the Olympian Palace?”
Understanding dawns. This is Charon, a deity, and I’ve thrown him to the sharks of the Olympian court. It’s the last place he ever wants to be.
“I didn’t think.” I pause to huff. “Well, I did, but not of your wants.”
He lifts his head. “And what do you
want, Agathe? I thought you would plead for a loved one’s return and be gone from Nekros. Yet you’re willing to stay. Worse, you’re willing to venture to Athansi.”
He says Athansi like a curse.
I stare at the boat bottom. The slats whirl into disarray again and I blink. Not now, I urge the sickness. Not today.
“It’d be easier to list what I don’t want,” I say. “I don’t want a meaningless life. I don’t want to watch myself wither to nothing. I don’t want to die as my mother has and her mother before her.”
I lean as far forward as the bench allows. “I’m but a tiny length in a spool of thread. It’s better to be the last than yet another woman forgotten to death and time.”
He leans forward. His breath plumes between us. “You want immortality.”
I nod. What else is there to do? He’s right and for all my carelessness towards him, I won’t lie.
“And Nyx? Did she have an influence on this?”
“No. Not at first. But after we argued...” I trail off, realizing my error too late.
The boat thunks against shore. Charon lurches back as the bridge slides into place. “You broke your promise.”
“Charon,” I say. I don’t dare look away.
No words come forth. I won’t apologize for what I’ve done. For all her power, Nyx has an odd pull. Benevolence, maybe, or a hidden warmth. She didn’t hurt me. She won’t hurt me.
“You have eleven hours remaining,” he says, gesturing to his bridge leading to the grass-lined shore. “You should get started.”
I stand, ignoring the ensuing dizziness, and take one step onto the bridge. Then another.
Opening my mouth to say gods know what, I pivot. Charon stands at the other edge of the boat, his back to me. A clear dismissal.
“Thank you.” There’s nothing more to be said. I won’t apologize when I regret nothing.
He doesn’t nod. He doesn’t acknowledge my words.
And this is how I lose my only ally.
I walk onto Asphodel’s shore and don’t look back as the waist-high grass swallows me whole.