by Logan Keys
Hades grits his teeth. “You’re the one who’s not supposed to be here. It’s against the rules. Get out of the arena or I’ll forfeit the fight.”
“The only one who cares about rules here is you,” Thanatos’ voice rumbles. “By rights, Narcissus has forfeited this challenge by using the army to aid him, but he’s going to kill you. One way or another.”
“I know that,” Hades snarls. “He might have no honor, but I do. Now go.”
“I’m not here.” Thanatos hovers in the air dressed in his death robes with scythe in hand. “You’re the one knocking at my door.”
Hades can see past his brother’s shoulder. Charon stands in his ferryboat and leans on his oar. The dark water ripples and beckons. Fear slices in Hades’ gut. He’s dying. Summer is going to kill Winter and Persephone will be alone.
“Get up, Hades,” Thanatos roars. “If you can’t do it for yourself, do it for Persephone. Do it for Cyane who will die a traitor’s death for helping you. The Lands will fall and our world will end, so get on your damn feet and fight. Fight like there’s no tomorrow because if you stay down there, there won’t be.”
A shadow looms over Hades and blocks out the light. He blinks, expecting Thanatos’ hand on him, but it doesn’t come. Narcissus’ eyes glitter in his helmet. They’re brilliant with madness and a creeping malice only a god can gift.
Thanatos was right. Narcissus has been god-touched. A person unprepared for the touch of the original gods or goddesses will be driven insane.
“Narcissus,” Hades says, trying to appeal to what’s left of the Pretender’s reason. “Chaos has tricked you. You’re going to die here in the arena for false promises.”
“Liar.” Narcissus laughs. “I’m going to kill you and then I’m going to kill Persephone, but I’ll wed her and bed her first. Once she’s given me a child, there will be no more use for her and I’ll kill her. Count on it.”
Hades draws on his last remaining life force. He calls on the old gods and the new, the goddesses of blood and sacrifice, the ancient beings of dark and light. He will leave this world, but Narcissus is coming with him.
Narcissus raises the spear and Hades waits. He has one shot and there is no room for mistakes. He counts his life in seconds as the spear comes toward him.
Hades twists and lashes out with his dagger. It catches Narcissus behind the knee where the greaves don’t cover the flesh. His nemesis grunts and his leg bends inward.
Rolling to his feet, Hades dangles the bident. “You won’t touch her. In this life or the next and that’s a promise.”
Narcissus limps forward with the spear stretched out. By rights, he shouldn’t be standing, but madness is its own fuel. Hades dodges and jabs Narcissus under the right armpit driving up until the arm goes slack.
The spear clatters from Narcissus’ hand and the mirror shield wobbles. Hades smashes the bident into it. The glass cracks into a spider web of light.
Hades sways on his feet. He’s had enough light to last him a lifetime, or a death time in his case. Even his blistered body is full of light. He’s airy and if he let himself, he could float away.
Thanatos is a silent, waiting presence on the sidelines. It won’t be long, brother. Hades’ mind reaches out to him. I just have one more thing to do.
Limping over, Hades smashes his gauntlet into Narcissus’ helmet. Hades’ mortal arms shudder. He’s going to have to do this the hard way.
The Pretender grunts, but is still standing. Hades brings down his bident and drives Narcissus to his knees. He captures Narcissus’ head between the two prongs and lifts it up until their gazes lock.
Hades points the long, silver dagger. “For Persephone.” His tongue is thick on the roof of his mouth. “The challenge is over. These Lands are claimed in her name.”
His hands shake before he drives the dagger into Narcissus’ neck. The Pretender jerks and his left leg slips out. Using the last of his energy, Hades takes the head and raises it to the silent crowd.
Thanatos appears beside Hades in formal robes. “I’ll come with you now, brother.” Hades reaches out a hand. “It’s done.”
“I’m not here for you.” Thanatos nods his head behind Hades. “I’m here for him.”
Narcissus’ Shade appears on the golden sands. He stares at his body and the head Hades’ still clutches in his hand. Narcissus’ mouth opens in a silent scream. He shakes his head and backs up, inching away slowly.
The Shade turns and flees. He runs to the soldiers, waving his arms. Most of the soldiers are inert, but those sensitive enough to feel the dead shuffle on their feet.
“I was hoping he’d put up a fight.” Ice chains unfurl from Thanatos’ left hand. He lashes out and they wrap around Narcissus’ neck, legs and arms like tentacles.
Narcissus struggles, hands scrabbling at his neck. Thanatos wrenches Narcissus backward until he falls before him in a heap on the ground. Glancing up, Narcissus’ eyes are wide and horror stricken.
“Come, boy.” Thanatos sneers. “For that’s what you are in a world of kings and queens. And to the God that used you to do his dirty work, you’re as significant as an ant.” He tugs on the chain. “There’s no escape for you. You are already gone. Now, come with me. My lands await and so does judgment.”
The air ripples and a rift opens. Some darkness seeps through giving Hades some lifeblood before he’s alone on the sands. Movement catches his eye. The army is re-angling the mirror in his direction. Narcissus must have left the army his own instructions to kill his enemy if he fell in battle.
Hades is going to die here. He accepts it, but it doesn’t matter because he won. Swaying, he drops the head and chugs in burning air. Closing his eyes, he visualizes the face he longs to see.
Persephone is a kaleidoscope in his mind. She’s bathed in moonlight with her feet dangling in a river; he sees the first time she told him she loved him, the first time they made love, their wedding day, their honeymoon…
Hades once wished for a mortal life with Persephone by his side. Now, he is a mortal and about to die. The gods and goddesses are cruel; he’s always known it, but this is a cosmic joke.
He tips over and falls into golden sand. His eyes stare up at a gloomy sky. Clouds have gathered and the sun is hidden, no longer beating on his body.
A goddess rides a night chariot across the sky at the head of an army. She drags starlight and moonlight with her. Her face is covered by a helm, but Hades would know her anywhere.
His beloved has become Selene, Goddess of the Moon. Who else could block out the sun? Arm raised, her midnight cloak flutters and ripples in a non-existent breeze.
Before the darkness claims him, Hades nods a thank you. For once, the gods and goddesses have listened to his pleas. He can die happy; he got to see Persephone one last time.
Persephone
Persephone and Brutus land in the middle of a roaring arena. Her knees jar at the impact sending golden sands swirling like dust specks in a storm. People are on their feet as Summer’s Army direct the power of the sun at her prone husband.
She steps into the path of the mirror and blocks its power. The heat seeps into her body charging it with electrical currents. She absorbs the rays until she has enough power to go supernova.
Some soldiers balk at Persephone’s visage: black cloak, obsidian crown, her wedding dress and gloves that are now transformed into gauntlets, and a hellhound by her side. She has no weapons because she’s never been any good with them. It doesn’t matter. In Summer she doesn’t need them, not with what she has planned.
Other soldiers rush forward with spears to drive into her body. The golden sun emblem glints on their shield and armor. These soldiers once served her father, then his killer, and have now marked her as their enemy.
Brutus lunges in front of her and growls, his roars echoing through the arena. The snakes on his mane and tail grow. They lengthen until they’re no longer hatchlings, but fully-fledged serpents.
His war challenge is answered
by a savage snarl that freezes the blood and turns insides to liquid. Cerberus bounds out from the pavilion and stands over Hades’ body. His three heads dare all comers to make an attempt on his Master.
“Cerberus,” Persephone orders. “Take your Lord and Master to the pavilion.” The hound eyes her, a little defiance in those three heads, before following her command.
Persephone raises a hand at the soldiers. “I am the Lady of Summer and the rightful heir to these Lands.” She eyes Narcissus’ body and detached head on the sands. “My husband answered the challenge on my behalf and won. I’m giving you one opportunity to stand down and throw away your weapons or you will suffer the consequences.”
Some in the crowd are moving, exiting the Arena as fast as they can, and others are riveted in their seats. As if a King and a Lord isn’t enough bloodshed. They want to see a Lady and a Queen do battle, too.
The ranks of the Army split. Some throw down their weapons and leave, but six soldiers fan out and stalk Persephone across the sands.
Magic ripples over her skin. It has the energy of Summer filling her to the brim like the vessel she is. Persephone doesn’t allow it to burst out. She can hold it in her hands with the command Hades taught her in the Underworld with his Winter discipline.
“I am the Harvest Queen.” White light crackles from Persephone’s hands. “I reap what you sow.”
Drawing her hands together, she claps. The energy bursts in light and booms. It rocks the soldiers back off their feet. The mirror shatters, the weapon used to hurt her husband, spraying shards of glass into the air until they disintegrate.
Persephone’s energy is limitless. The walls of the arena crumble and the golden sands swirl. It’s a sandstorm of heartbreak and pain that blocks out the sun.
She could kill them. Turn them all to dust. The darkness cackles inside her wrapping around her like her midnight cloak urging her to do just that. It would be so easy to release that energy. Just let it go and damn the consequences. Instead, Persephone ignores her instincts and holds tight.
A clap of thunder rumbles overhead. Clouds gather and the skies open. The swirling sand falls to the ground, sodden. Persephone’s brought a rare summer storm. The crowd moans and wails. Those who stayed to watch further bloodshed are running for their lives in the torrential rain.
The Night Army lands beside her. Rictus grins and bones clattering, their darkness sucks the rest of the light out of the day. Their eyes feast on potential victims.
Whatever anger Persephone feels, these are her people. Both Night and Day: the ones running and the ones beside her. It would be easy to give in to the desire for retribution, but she can’t.
“Find the ones who supported Narcissus and hold them,” Persephone orders. “Don’t kill them. They will answer for their crimes, but not until your King has returned to the Underworld.”
As the Night Army swarms the arena, screams and yells go up, Persephone flees to the pavilion. Cerberus growls at her on entry and then goes back to prowling the edges of the tent.
Hades lies motionless on the pavilion floor with his eyes closed. Fear burrows its way into Persephone’s soul. Please be alive; please be alive. Hades has to be alive.
His skin is blistered and raw. As Persephone steps closer, she can see the thread of blue veins pumping mortal blood into his body. If he opened his eyes now, she knows the frost would be gone and replaced by molten brown.
Cyane crouches over Hades on her hands and knees. She works furiously, dipping a rag into a bucket of bitter smelling liquid before rubbing it over Hades’ face and body. Persephone waits, but Hades doesn’t move.
Dropping to her knees, she reaches a gauntlet-covered hand out, but Cyane pushes it away. “You can’t touch him with Harvest Queen energy, Perse. He’s fragile, just hanging on. You’ll kill him.”
“How bad?” Persephone asks the question that fills her with dread. “Can you heal him?”
“It’s bad.” Cyane lifts harrowed eyes. “This is beyond my magic or abilities. I can’t heal him.”
“What do I do?” Panic curls around Persephone twisting and strangling. “Could we heal him in the Underworld?”
“No.” Thanatos’ presence makes Persephone’s heart sink. “My brother’s shade is knocking on my door and I’m refusing to answer. If he crosses as a mortal, he’ll go to the Elysian Plains and be reborn again as a human.”
Lost. Hades will be lost to this world. His lifecycle will be attached to the wheel. It will be short and he will be made of flesh and bone. His soul will not grace the Elysian Fields and he’ll never get to meet Persephone there.
“There’s only one place that can heal him.” Golden, selfish Zeus stands in the pavilion. “But the price will be high.”
“Nice of you to finally show up,” Persephone snarls. “Why can’t you heal him? He’s your brother and you’re the King of Above.”
Zeus’ sigh is meaningful. He bends down to Hades and brushes the hair off his forehead. “Think what you like, Persephone, but I care about my brothers. Believe me if I could heal Hades, I would. We’re in unknown territory. I can save a King or a mortal. I cannot do both.”
Persephone stands. “Tell me where. I don’t care about the price. I’ll pay it.”
“We need to take him to Styx.” Zeus’ eyes are hooded. “The river can heal him, but she might say no.”
Persephone will see about that. “Cerberus,” she orders. “Take me and your Master to the River Styx. Then drop us in the water.”
“Don’t,” Zeus shouts. “She will kill you for that transgression. You don’t know her.”
Persephone latches onto Cerberus’ side. The snakes slither around her hands but don’t bite. “And the River Witch doesn’t know me. She can do whatever she likes to me after Hades is healed.”
Cerberus grips Hade’s by the arm with a gentle mouth and they step in between. The golden Lands of Summer recede and the bitter smell of the marsh claws at her throat. The River Styx is directly beneath them: waters filled with hatred and healing, run by a goddess who grants ill-fated wishes.
The hound flies high above near the roof of the cavern. His Master hangs limp in his arms. It’s a long way down from here, but the drop will ensure Hades is submerged in the water.
“Cerberus.” Persephone reaches out and grabs Hades’ around the wrist where his gauntlet will protect him from her touch. “Let go.”
They plummet straight down and hit the water with a crash. Darkness covers Persephone’s head and the taste of malice is in her mouth. She grabs Hades and struggles to the top, but he’s a dead weight pulling them both under.
Faces and shapes appear in the water. Hair trailing and eyes dark, nymphs circle them as if they’re prey. One shoots straight for Persephone with her mouth open and fangs dripping.
Let him go, they hiss. It’s your fault. You bring chaos and destruction wherever you go.
Their giggles scratch at Persephone’s head. He was fine without you. Look at what you’ve done. You should’ve married Narcissus and kept the peace. Instead, you’ve killed your one true love. Silly, dangerous, stupid girl.
Despair opens its mouth and swallows Persephone whole. Light leeches out of her until all that’s left is regret. She did do this. All of it, she could have saved her father by agreeing to marry Narcissus from the beginning. If she could take it back she would. But she can’t.
Persephone sinks, Hades still in her hand. His arms and hair float up, but his eyes don’t open. She’s killed Hades as surely as she’s destroyed everything else.
Her feet touch the bottom of the rocky riverbed and the jolt brings her back. River nymphs cling to her, their claws on her body and in her hair. They’re feeding on her pain and misery.
Persephone lashes out. Get away from us, river witches. They scatter and float back but still circle.
Tightening her grip on Hades, Persephone pushes to the surface. She chugs air into her lungs and drags his body to the edges of the riverbank. Brushing the reeds an
d slime off his face, she waits for his eyes to open, but they remain firmly closed.
Persephone gently checks him. Hades’ skin has healed. The blisters and raw patches are no longer visible, and neither are the blue veins, but his pallor hasn’t returned to its normal color.
“Please, Hades,” Persephone begs. “Live. I can’t do this without you.”
“Persephone, let him go.” Thanatos is behind her. She doesn’t need to turn to know he’s dressed in formal robes with scythe in hand.
“You’re not having him.” Persephone’s teeth chatter. All the Harvest Queen energy that was keeping her warm died in the river. “He’s not dead.”
“I’m not here for him, Persephone,” Thanatos counters. “I’m here for you. You’ve been swimming in a river of hatred and in case you haven’t noticed, you’re dying. Your Shade is knocking at my door. Get out of the water. Now.”
Persephone’s hands are white with a blue tinge. She pulls Hades further up the riverbank on shaky legs. The action makes her woozy.
The killer cold has seeped into her bones and she curses the irony. What might save her husband will inevitably kill her. Just as the heat she needs to survive has brought Hades to Death’s door.
“You can have me when he’s safe.” Persephone tilts her head back at Thanatos. “Not before.”
The water begins to bubble and roil. It churns and seethes, becoming a frothy, boiling mass. A whirlpool opens, sucking the river into it until Persephone is sure there will be nothing left.
Styx rises from the middle, her eyes as dark as the abyss. Flames dance in them, as hot as Tartarus and just as deadly. “What is this?” Her voice hisses malevolence. “Even Kings and Queens do not dare swim in my waters without my permission.”
Persephone feels a breeze behind her. Shivers take over her body and her teeth chatter as loudly as the skeletons in the Night Army. A cloak goes over her, warm as the golden sun.
Cyane’s hands squeeze Persephone’s shoulders. She sits behind Persephone and lets her body warmth seep in. “I’m here, Perse. Hang on. Promise me you’ll hang on.”