WARNING: Mature content towards the end of the chapter. Nothing too explicit of course, but definitely some strong suggestion.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Samantha

There's something wrong, I can feel it.

The river Phlegethon spits me out onto solid ground just as Nyx had said it would, but when I lift my gaze to pull myself up and sit, I realize the earth beyond me is empty. I choke back a gasp as I stand up, reaching to touch my throat as a hair-raising sensation erupts from behind my neck.

Taking a look around, I hesitantly start walking towards the palace. It's eerily silent as I leave behind the river leading to Tartarus, and the further I move away from it, the more I realize I'm completely alone.

Everything in my surroundings is desolate, I can't hear a single sound coming from anywhere near me. In fact, there's a light smell of fire and smoke lingering the air, and there's a kind of uncertainty filling the corners of the realm that hints at close danger.

I'm mindful of the premonition as I look to the dark earth beneath my feet. It's littered with ashes, and something in the cold air burns my eyes, preventing me from seeing much past my watery vision. Reaching to run my hands up and down my arms, I try warming myself up at the biting breeze, forcing myself to continue walking as an unsettling feeling coils in my gut.

It feels like someone's watching me even though I can't see anyone, making me unconsciously start to walk faster. Why is it so quiet? Why am I the only one here? Why does it smell like fire?

Darting my eyes back and forth, I quicken my pace to a run, feeling desperation gnaw at my bones as the smell of something sweet invades my nostrils. It's a fragrance unlike any I've ever inhaled, and maybe it's because I'm immortal now or because the realm is somehow helping me, but I know what it is right away.

Ichor.

I'm not alone. Checking to see if I'm being followed or if there's someone nearby, I race to the safety of the fortress that is Hades' palace. I will my legs to go faster as the scent intensifies, practically feeling the invisible presence catching up with me no matter how much I force myself to stride ahead.

I come to a screeching halt when I don't see the large structure, seemingly lost. My lips part open as I finally notice the scene in front of me, an ugly taste rising up my throat like bile and leaving bitterness in its wake.

The building is crumbled to pieces, there's nothing but rubble left of its slabs of granite, and there's tiny embers dancing all around the expanse of the remains-- as if someone had burnt the whole realm to the ground and this is the aftermath.

I swallow back fear as I walk to the fallen gates, noting the big chunks of limestone scattered haphazardly around the leftovers of black iron. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that they're the remnants of the large stone guards, and that thought makes me really sad. What happened? Why is the Underworld in ruins?

Why would someone come ransack the realm? It's nothing but a wasteland now, and as I survey the ashy land, I try to think of any enemies Hades might have had. But no one comes to mind. Though even if he did have some, not many would have been brave enough to journey into his home-- much less threaten his kingdom.

Furrowing my brows, I catch sight of a large heap in the near distance. I narrow my eyes, going still to make out the strewn figures. Figures that closely resemble Heracles' troops. Black and gold stain the earth around them, beckoning me to amble closer for a good look.

The scene that greets me is anything but welcoming. I expected to find Hades sitting alone at his throne, reading his cases or probably judging a soul, I didn't think I'd find a destroyed palace. And I definitely didn't think I'd find a mound of lifeless troops lying in front of the boundaries of Asphodel.

The dark and golden liquid seeping from their bodies bleeds into the pristine waters of the river Lethe. I eye them at my feet cautiously, lifting my gaze to observe the burnt land beyond the shores of the river. The domain looks empty, its grassy terrains are tinted with black charcoal and dry, yellow patches-- signs that someone probably came here to steal the souls.

But why? Did Zeus come back to finish the job? Or did someone else do all this?

I kneel down, reaching to touch the thick fluids. Letting my fingers graze the surface, I bring back gold-stained fingertips, the vibrant color trickling into the faint lines of my skin. Lifting my hand to my nose, I inhale the sugary scent coming off of them-- blood of the gods.

Where's Hades? Who does this ichor belong to? I've been smelling it since I waded out the river Phlegethon, is it the reason I thought I had company? Maybe I really am the only person here, maybe none of the souls are living in their corresponding domains. And if they're not, then where are they? Who's taken them?

I take another look around, moving to stand so I can go check Elysium. If it's empty too, then I'm truly alone. The ichor staining the earth around the lump of still bodies in front of me is the only sign of intruders or previous life, and I try my best not to stare at their ugly, emaciated faces as I dust myself off.

I'm turning to walk away when something small and gray peeks out from behind one large block of granite, I tilt my head to the side as I notice its small movement. It bends up quickly, like it's trying to remain out of my sight, and as I take a slow step towards it, I realize it's a leg. A small leg.

Is there a possibility someone survived?

"Is anyone here?" I ask softly, not wanting to scare the survivor. From what I can see, they've probably seen a lot of ugly stuff. Crumbled buildings, smoke and fire, dead bodies-- they have every reason to hide from me. Continuing to approach them slowly, I listen for any kind of response, even going completely still when I'm halfway there to hear a faint answer.

But I receive none. So I call again.

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

No response. Knitting my brows, I quicken my pace to the front of the block, letting out a small gasp as I find the last person I thought I would.

Daniel.

He's huddled in a little ball against the corner of the granite chunk, small legs pulled up to his chest, thin arms wrapped around them. His face is alarmingly pale. In fact, if it hadn't been for his widened, scared stare following my every movement with sharp caution, I'd have thought he was dead. He goes completely rigid as I bend down to sit eye-level with him, pulling his legs closer to himself as I extend a hand to touch him. He flinches when I move to bring my arm back to my side, making a pang of hurt squeeze my heart.

"Hey, hey, it's me-- Sammy. Remember?" I ask quietly, taking a seat in front of him. I don't move any closer, deciding it's best to give him space. God knows what the poor kid's seen today.

He eyes me warily, making no move to come nearer. His little hands turn white at how hard he's holding onto his legs, a concrete sign of his worry. Slowly, he feels safe enough to look down to the ground, but he quickly fixes his gaze back up to me when I move to tuck some hair behind my ear. Any small movement on my part makes him recoil.

His lips start to quiver, but no tears fall from his eyes. Looking him up and down, I realize he's shaking-- whether or not it's from the cold or his fear, I don't know.

"Are you going to eat me, now?"

He tugs at his shirt, shielding his small chest from me as he waits for my answer. I frown, shaking my head.

"Why would I want to?"

Daniel observes me silently, probably trying to figure out if I'm telling him the truth or not. He flinches when I scoot closer, but doesn't push me away.

"What happened? Where's Hades?" I ask him, placing a hand on his cheek. He presses his lips together, staring at me with fearful irises. Anxiety twists inside my stomach at his silence, making me close my eyes with dread. Is Hades gone again?

The crunching of footsteps on rubble causes my eyes to snap open, and the sound of a deep voice booming somewhere behind us makes me painfully aware of a warm liquid that suddenly comes into contact with my fingertips. I follow its trail, moving my eyes up Daniel's pants. Their light gray material stains a few shades darker around his lap, making me instantly lift up my hand from the damp ground.

Normally, I'd have snapped at him because it's gross, but I can't blame him. He's just a little kid, and I would've peed my own pants at the sound of the powerful voice if I hadn't encountered its owner before.

"I can smell him. Bring the boy to me as soon as you find him!"

I instinctively pull Daniel to me, clamping a hand over his mouth as the footsteps come nearer.

"Halt!" the voice orders, "Can you smell that?"

There's still silence for a moment.

"Ichor," someone answers gruffly. My heart stops for several suffocating seconds when I hear no movement. It starts to beat again when their smell of honey comes closer, and this time it pulses much faster, making me think they can hear the loud thrum of my heart. And that thought makes me want to pee in my dress.

I flit my gaze to the little boy in my arms, wondering why they're looking for him and why they'd want to harm him. What does a god like Zeus want with Daniel? What's so unique about him he'd ransack an entire realm?

I caress his cold cheek with a thumb, holding him tighter to me. Adjusting my position on the ground, I listen for the approaching footsteps of Zeus or any of his cronies. I inch forward just a bit, trying to see if I catch any figures coming toward us, but find nothing. Mustering all my courage, I let go of Daniel's body, reaching instead to grab his arm as I tug him behind me and make a run for it.

I push my legs to take me far away from the crushed palace, but something behind me resists my force. Turning my head back, I find the little boy frozen in place, his gray pants dragging along the damp earth beneath us.

"There they are!" someone yells behind me. I let out a hiss as I quickly wrap my arms around him, lifting him up and resuming my run, not bothering to look back and see who's chasing us. I know for a fact one of the voices behind us belongs to Zeus, and though I don't know what happened to make me immortal after he killed me, I'm not about to take my chances with him again.

I flee in the direction of the river Phlegethon, maybe being near to Tartarus will make them all leave. After all, the flames don't hurt me, and I doubt they'll want to test out the burning waters to reach me.

I bite my lip in pain as my foot steps on something sharp, ignoring the throbbing coming from beneath my heel. As it turns out, running barefoot on a ravaged realm isn't easy, and as the heavy footsteps behind me start to sound closer, I have to force myself to press my weight on the wound.

Swallowing back a lump of fear, I fix my gaze on the earth ahead and manage to make out the fiery surface of the river, feeling relief fill my insides as I scurry to dip my feet in the water. I look down to my arms, hoping the heat won't hurt Daniel while he's with me. Wading in as far as I can without having the jumping lava touch his feet, I turn around and wait for our hunters to appear.

And sure enough, seconds later, they do. But they all come to a sudden halt several feet away from the Phlegethon's shore, eyeing each other warily as they turn to their leader with hesitant expressions. Zeus pushes through about ten men, all radiating a thick aura of power I can't quite place. It feels... ancient.

Shoving aside the bravest of his group --the one closest to the shallow waters-- he steps directly into my view, growling when he sees the boy he's been looking for safely tucked in my arms. He narrows his eyes, taking one very small step forward before parting his lips open as recognition swims in his irises.

His surprise is quickly replaced by anger.

"You're supposed to be dead!" he accuses, jabbing a finger at me. He hisses, bringing his arm back to his side quickly, as if he'd been burnt by the mere vapor being emitted by the hot river.

A smirk dances on the ends of my mouth, but it doesn't fully transform into a grin because of the fear in my gut. I might have the advantage now, but if Zeus suddenly becomes brave and decides to enter the water, he'll discover I don't have any abilities. And if I do, I don't know what they are.

"Give me the child," he says, moving his leg forward slightly before thinking better of it. He takes a small step back. I shake my head, mirroring his movements as I take a step deeper into the lava. Daniel stirs in my hold, snaking his arms up my neck and wrapping his pee-drenched legs around my torso, making Zeus' eyes shift to his small back, staring at him fixedly.

He moves up his calculating gaze to me.

"Give him to me!" he repeats, inching forward and flinching back. An ugly vein appears on his temple at his third failed attempt to move towards me, his body going tense as he realizes he won't be breaking through the scorching, invisible wall today.

He swivels to his companions, all looking blurry to me in the warm fog littering the surface.

"What are you all standing there for?! Bring me the child!"

I feel my heart quicken its pace at the glances they all throw me. Are they actually going to try to wade into the Phlegethon, or am I safe for now? I stay rooted to my spot, waiting to see what happens before I make any sudden movements. I don't want to show them how scared I am.

The bravest one, the one still waiting at the waterside, takes a step forward, extending a hand in my direction before feeling sure enough to take another. I narrow my eyes at him, willing Tartarus to do something --anything-- to keep them at bay.

"You cowardly fools!" Zeus barks, pushing and shoving the gods gathered around him, "Is Lapetus the only brave one among you?!"

"Give me the child," a voice coaxes. I shift my gaze to the man approaching me, watching as he successfully makes it to the dried magma ashore.

"Over my dead body."

Zeus turns around at my words, smiling heinously as he materializes something shiny at his side.

"As you wish!" he says, bringing his arm back and thrusting something at me. It lands tersely on my neck, making me stagger backwards for a moment as I wait for the familiar pain to come. In fact, we all do. Even Lapetus a few feet away stops in his tracks to look at me, and we're all surprised when I don't start to cry in agony.

Instead, thick, golden liquid oozes from the wound, making them all stand still. Their voices intermingle with each other when they all suddenly start to spit out words of shock.

"It was hers!"

"The ichor!"

"She is one of us!"

Even Zeus seems stunned as he narrows his eyes with contempt, reaching to pick up his weapon after I pluck it out and throw it at his feet. He turns on his group.

"That's never stopped us before! Go after her! Bring me the boy!"

His men angle their bodies toward me, taking hesitant steps to enter the hot waters. A few remain motionless, refusing to risk burning in the river leading to Tartarus. One is even opening his mouth to protest, but his words get cut off as the river starts to bubble, spitting out threads of lava that slither up their legs.

They thicken, slinking up their bodies as they cool, revealing iron chains as the fire finally subsides. It pulls and tugs on their thighs, making them all fall on their backs as the binds drag them into the depths of the blazing water, sucking them in one giant gulp and swallowing them down the whirlpool.

I turn to the lone man standing ashore, the only one who escaped the fiery snakes. His eyes seem to glow in the hot fog, piercing me with new intensity.

"Time accedes to its sole master," he says lowly, and with that, he fades into the fog. I blink away a sudden burst of light that flashes from in front of me, making me step back in confusion.

Shifting my gaze to my body, I realize my arms are extended and folded, as if I had been carrying something, though nothing is there. I turn all around me, bringing a hand to my lips as I try to remember what I was just doing. I search my thoughts for a clue, but come up empty.

Pressing my lips together, I shake my head lightly and wade to the shore.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hades' palace is as imposing as ever.

Its enormous, gothic structure greets me as I near the front gates, welcoming me with its usual austere silence and elongated shadows. Nothing except the faint lights on inside tell me it's occupied, and if it weren't for the light hum of voices echoing up ahead, I'd have thought I was alone.

Walking up to the giant set of black gates, I lift up a hand to the statues standing guard at the sides, waiting eagerly for them to open their eyes. The faster we get over the pleasantries, the sooner I'll be inside with Hades.

As if on cue with my wiggling fingers, they snap open their stone irises, looking around until they catch sight of me at their feet. They instantly fist their chests and bow on one knee, saying in unison, "Welcome, benevolent Ruler of the Underworld" before standing back up.

I lift my hand again, and they turn to grab the gates, opening them wide for my passage. Dust flies up at their sudden movements, settling only after they've closed the gates behind me and resumed their still positions.

Taking the large slabs of granite one by one, I make my way up the elegant entrance, mindful of the fact it's been a while since anyone here has seen me. Up until this point, they've all probably thought me dead. Long dead.

I run my hands up and down my arms at the cool breeze, it's going to take some time to get used to the chilly environment down here. Especially since I've grown accustomed to the heat of Tartarus. I've developed a liking to the high temperatures of the Phlegethon, maybe now that I'm outside the torturous domain I can walk to it and take a swim if I start to miss it.

Eyeing the guards at the doors, I jog up the last few steps, slipping into the arched doorway and intending to walk hurriedly down the halls to reach the throne room. How long has it been since I last saw Hades? It feels like months since I died, but it's hard to be sure since time passes by sporadically in the Underworld. It could've been several weeks or years I spent trapped in Tartarus, and I really, really want to see him again.

I haven't made it a foot past the door before I'm being held back.

"No soul enters the palace without permission," a voice says. It's followed by a firm hand latching onto my forearm, pulling me back to the open doorway and preventing me from reaching the doors to the throne room.

"Hey!" I hiss, prying their fingers away. I turn to glare at them for holding me back, but the sound of clattering metal cuts me off before I have the chance to say anything snarky. The guard to my right doesn't take his bewildered eyes off me as he bends down to retrieve his fallen weapon.

He elbows the guard beside him -- the one holding my arm in a tight grip-- as he stands up and straightens himself out. Eyeing his friend emphatically, he subtly juts his chin in my direction, prompting his oblivious friend into letting me go. He turns to look at me with surprise and then apology as recognition dawns in his eyes.

"My queen!" he splutters, immediately stepping back. I hold up a hand to make him go quiet, satisfied to see it work as I open my mouth to speak.

"It's fine. Where's Hades?"

The guard who recognized me first is the one to answer.

"He has gone to Tartarus to oversee a disturbance. Do you wish to summon him? Perhaps Lord Thanatos can--"

I shake my head, waving him off.

"No, don't do anything. When he gets here tell him I'll be in my room," I say, running some fingers through my hair. With a nod of confirmation from the guards, I turn around and walk down the hall to the room I'd been staying in before.

God knows I could use the time to shower, I smell like smoke and fire, and it'll give me something to do while I wait for Hades to return. Pushing open the door, I step into the empty room, walking over to the drawer to pick a change of clothes before searching for a clean towel.

I knit my brows when my fingers come into contact with something soft and short-- a stark contrast to most of the clothes filling up the drawer. Curious, I pull it out, holding it up to the faint light and making out the outlines of my cheer uniform. I smile to myself, folding it back to the way it was and tucking it into the far corner. They didn't throw away any of my stuff, everything in here is in the exact same way I left it!

Pushing the drawer closed, I grab the dress I picked out-- which might just be a long shirt, but I like it-- and reach for a towel on the top shelf before I turn around and head into the shower.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hades

Tartarus was in order.

The titans were safely chained and dormant, their mumblings of curses and predictions were not unusual, and the river Phlegethon ran smoothly into the domain. Nothing was particularly odd, and yet, not much earlier, Thanatos and I detected power foreign to our own, power neither of us have come into contact with prior to today.

And as we stepped away from the safety of the palace, we both sensed it radiating from the igneous domain. We approached it with caution, but upon closer inspection, found nothing alarming. The only thing I found disconcerting was the brief moment of confusion I experienced before stepping out the palace gates. It prompted me to reconsider the previous moment, and what tasks I may have been executing during it.

"The presence lingers, my lord," Thanatos says beside me. We both take the steps of the front entrance, paying no mind to the closing gates behind us. I nod, blinking away fatigue as I bring a hand to my face and slide it down its length-- a weak attempt to remain awake.

"I sense it as well," I reply curtly, eyeing the guards at my doors. At my appearance, they instantly straighten their posture, looking much too eager and lively for two lowly sentries serving the dark realm's dreaded overlord.

"Do you wish me to seek out its source?"

I shake my head, pressing my lips together to abstain an answer. At my silence, the corners of his mouth dip in despondence, a confirmation of the quality of interaction we've begun to share as of late.

Whom once I considered a confidante is now a mere acquaintance-- an unimpressive blur among a sea of familiar faces. One could say the tentative fondness which formerly held residence in my mind for Death has now diminished into nothing more than a tolerant coexistence, one necessary for the governing of the Underworld.

To regard him means to remember what transpired on the shores of the Acheron not ten moons ago, and that is not something I have been capable of forgiving him for as of yet. I now understand the frustration and animosity existing within mortals for Thanatos-- it is not difficult to affix blame on him for the loss of a lover or dear companion. I too would have done as Orpheus and many others did in the past-- beg at the foot of the throne of the one being who harbored the power to return to them their infatuate.

But to whom do the gods appeal to?

"Do as you wish Thanatos," I say, climbing up the last step to join my guards. They greet me with anxious faces, moving clumsily and heavily as they usher me into the interminable hallway. Both scramble to speak.

"My lord! The queen!"

"In her chambers!"

My breastbone erupts with disbelief and warmth. It can not be... Surely these men mock me! It is not possible --not even in our world-- for a mortal to escape their fate upon death. And if such a thing existed, their bodies would not be the same.

With narrowed eyes I respond to their enthusiasm.

"To mock a king is foolish, to insult him before other subjects is a cry for punishment. Assume your positions lest you wish to incur my ire."

They recoil into their respective places, leaving me to address a somber Thanatos. For thousands of years I've endured mockery and derision, I will not allow my very subordinates to do so as well. Not in the presence of my highest ranking auxiliary, and certainly not while the grief is still very much alive.

I turn to said aide.

"Collect and bring the records of our influx to my study. I've much to appraise and seal."

With one final scathing look, I turn in the direction of my working quarters, slinking into the dimly lit hallway to lick my wounds like a miserable dog. It must be a pitiful sight to behold the king of the underworld, for Fate ridicules me as much Olympians do-- if not, more so.

I can not be blamed for letting my bitterness consume me. I was cheated into receiving a realm with no light-- one that carries the stench of death, and the one good thing I held was taken from me not long ago. I am bitterness. I am the cry of grief and despair. Had I a mortal thread to live, I would have disposed of it by my own hand-- praying to the god of this warmth forsaken realm to ease my agony. But I have no such solution.

So my question remains-- to whom do the gods appeal to?

Twisting my lips into a scowl, I approach my study with a heavy step, rubbing my eyes ridden with exhaustion. I've worked myself like a draught animal these last few months-- maintaining record of the souls that come in, those processed, and those who exit through the Asphodel meadows only to return to Earth.

It is my duty to carry out the responsibilities of preserving order, whether or not I enjoy the arduous task. And with no one to help ease the burden of my obligations, the straining load is placed atop my shoulders-- to be worked and managed by my sole hands.

I allow my shoulders to sink when I finally reach the entrance to my study, pushing the door forward, noting it is already slightly ajar. It swings open at my light force, and immediately my nostrils are invaded with the strong scent of ichor.

Alarm quickly sets in and I summon my weapon as I step through the doorway, looking everywhere for the intruder. The presence highly resembles that of the earlier disturbance in Tartarus, but as I flit my eyes about, nothing except golden hair catch my sight in the gloomy chambers. I drop my weapon to the ground as Samantha turns around, setting down the stack of papers in her hand at the sound of my squeaking door.

My fingers twitch at my sides as my body goes rigid.

Skimming her form up and down repeatedly, I feel overwhelming relief and bewilderment swell someplace beneath my chest. Millions of questions emerge in my mind, perhaps the biggest being how she managed to survive. I saw her die with my very eyes! Where has she been all these months? Has she been hiding from me?

She mirrors my movements, becoming completely still as she appraises me with a slow, fervent gaze. Her eyes meet my own as I press my lips tightly together, unable to express how much I have missed her. I can not find the words to tell her how much I have needed her.

Swallowing at her inviting position on my desk, I feel my muscles grow tense at the look in her fixed irises, making my fingers twitch again as I find myself gripping the edges of the door and pushing it closed behind me.

At its shutting sound, she slides off the counter, the movement prompting her ill-fitting tunic to mount up her thighs, each stride revealing more skin than the previous did. Over a year ago, I would have been appalled at her indecency, but now --after an excruciatingly difficult time in her absence-- I discover no personal interest in heeding manner nor custom.

Thus, before we even reach arms length, we find ourselves floundering to unite with vehement urgency-- embracing one another with the religiousness of yearning lovers before instantly becoming a fury of eager lips and wandering fingers. I impatiently slip my palms up her thighs beneath her garment, relishing the overwhelming sensations of her titillating, silky skin-- feeling as though I will perish when she begins to loosen the fastens of my cloak, and her hot breaths become fitful at my straying touch.

Brushing our lips with hurried, intense need, our fingers fumble down the buttons of my tunic, ceasing our excited movements only to allow Samantha a brief glimpse of my bare torso once we are successful in removing it. Stepping back, she glides her palms atop my breastbone, eyeing my skin wistfully before she lifts her gaze to my countenance, further incited by what she unearths in the depths of my own eyes.

Her fingers begin to undo the buttons at the top of her robe as I reach to unbuckle my trousers, but I instantly extend a hand to her wrist-- stopping her from continuing further below. I wish for the honors.

She inhales a sharp bout of air when my hands move to her tunic, fingers deftly unfastening the one barrier separating her from me. I grow tense as her breathing becomes ragged, prompting my fingertips to move as fast as nature allows them. Swallowing impatience, I manage to undo the last few buttons, shrugging the thin fabric off her lithe body with a single tug. It falls to the carpet in a rumpled heap.

My eyes rake her over, all restraint forgotten as she pulls me into her embrace, moving to sit on the plush black carpet before laying down completely. Her hands slide up my chest, blue eyes staring at me with intense expectation, carrying the message our words can not.

I climb on top of her, lowering my lips to hers firmly and trying my best to show her over and over again how much I've missed her.