Chapter 9
Hi everyone! Sorry for not updating, I've been a victim of loss of inspiration-- even though this book is all planned out! Lol!
Hopefully, after today, my postings will become regular... What would you guys like to see in the next chapters?
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Hades
Anxiousness stings my fingertips.
Samantha and I stride side by side as we approach the length of the palace front gates, the faint weight of the child in my embrace a brief reminder of what transpired only moments ago, and the very reason we now explore the realm rather than fulfill our duties.
Silence encompasses our moving frames, furnishing the space between us with words unsaid, giving way to our thoughts and allowing us to make sense of all which begins to disturb our peace-- the child's health, his nightmares, Samantha's return, the impression on her arm, Zeus' stay in Tartarus...
Pressing my lips into a thin line, I turn to glance at my companion with apprehension, impeding myself from seeking out the bond we share and interpreting her quiet contemplation. She dislikes it when I glimpse into her reflections, and despite her absence, this fact has not evaded me.
Feeling the light brush of Daniel's easy breaths on my neck, I reach to graze the dried-up globules of ichor littering his sweaty hairline, an auriferous token of a godhood none in the Underworld were aware of-- including myself.
I do not understand how his robust, cherub looks suddenly became depleted of life -- however ironic the term may be -- and were transformed into a gaunt, bleak chassis of what they once were. It disturbs me that his appearance has taken this drastic form, even more so since I know it has alternated swiftly in the past few days.
Some days he awakes with a full countenance, irises brighter and livelier than Apollo's, lips as rosy as the day he was brought to, while in others he wanders in silent contemplation, body as emaciated as a rotten carcass-- with nothing to offer but the aged, eroded bones which maintain his spine erect.
His muscles are nearly nonexistent beneath his thin garments, bones protruding from his shoulder blades, giving him the appearance of a feeble, diseased superhero. He bears his favorite suit as he somehow, even with his ailment, manages to appear quite charming in his dormant, musing state.
His lips are slightly parted, dark lashes fanning the pitchy circles shadowing his eyes as he stirs lightly within my cradle, making a small, clicking sound with his tongue as he shifts to accommodate his head on my shoulder, quickly regaining his previous rhythmic respiring once he settles himself into a comfortable position. I observe him in disquietude, feeling a dry taste sear its path up my throat, painfully aware that he is the reason behind our excursion to the Elysian meadows.
When Samantha had drawn my attention to the ichor staining his skin, I was overcome with confusion and disbelief. It was not possible for the child to be of divine birth! I had seen the child's very soul assume its place behind the line of deceased awaiting Thanatos' instruction-- I had witnessed his entrance into the Underworld after Death had taken pity on him and crossed him over himself! It was simply infeasible!
And yet, I currently find myself leading him and Samantha to the ingress hidden someplace deep within Elysium's intricate forest boundaries-- a place whose location only Thanatos and I are privy to, and whose possessions will soon reveal to us the child's true source of origin.
Its existence has been disclosed to no one, but rumors about its location have yet to cease circling Mt. Olympus. A group of ancient mortals who grew malicious attempted trespassing the borders of my realm with foolish ambition, wishing to sought out its station and bring chaos upon the earthly realm.
They were forced to drink from the river Lethe once they reached the entrance of the palace, for had they wandered further into the realm, they may have chanced upon it --however remote the incident may have been, and however unlikely the possibility was they knew of its entrance-- and condemned their entire species had they been successful.
"Where are we going?"
Samantha's voice disrupts the serene silence, angling her countenance to gaze at me inquisitively, leaving me to contemplate my response. I can not tell her of our exact whereabouts while we remain in an open space, ears not meant to listen may be near us, and they may go about disclosing the location of our sequestered destination to others.
Unable to be completely forward, but also unable to forgo an answer, I settle on something brief.
"The Elysian Fields."
She presses her lips together, not completely satisfied with my answer as she reaches to entwine her hand with my free one, breathing out a soft sigh as I flinch away in surprise. I am struck by how willing she is to return my fondness, and as I correct my mistake and envelop her soft, slender digits with my sallow ones, I am reminded once more of my good fortune-- however rare it may be.
She gives my palm a firm wring, angling up her chin to regard me apprehensively. Her voice is a saccharine whisper as she tugs me gently to cease my walking, prompting me to lift a brow, a silent query as to what perturbs her while her eyes penetrate me warily.
"Why do you always do that?"
I adjust the dozing child in my embrace, returning her concerned scrutiny with an inquiring one, lifting another brow. What does she refer to? I am about to ask her such when she bests me to speak.
"The self-deprecating thing. Why do you do it so often? Like you doubt I'll hold your hand or kiss you back."
I exhale heavily, promptly pressing my lips together in displeasure. I've yet to become accustomed to our newfound connection, it does not sit well with me that someone as keen as Samantha now has access to my most intimate thoughts and contemplations.
Absent-mindedly combing my fingers through the child's mane of onyx tangles, I lift my gaze to the dark horizon-- an eerie combination of inky clouds and tangible obscurity consuming the subtle beauty of the Underworld's crisp, violet dusk. It is perhaps the sole element of my realm which meets the standards of beauty mortals and gods harbor in high esteem.
"Samantha..."
My voice erupts past my lips with palpable unease, but I decide on appeasing her query nevertheless. Running my gaze atop the vast space of my realm, I consider the silent charm of my dominion-- the grandness of that which I created so painstakingly.
"I am self-assured in my ways as a god. My abilities are of great measure, and those whom have fought alongside me rest placidly for they know that should war commence, I am a most formidable opponent. I rule a third of the cosmos, and for this, I am afforded hesitant respect from my siblings and those whom reside atop Mt. Olympus."
I press my lips thinly before I continue.
"My hands created a realm no mortal or divine foot wishes to step upon, my power has given refuge to those who have not been given solace on Earth, and by both I live in tranquility. I know my strengths, I have become acquainted with my weaknesses, I understand that which I am capable of."
My fingertips sweep the contours of Daniel's small, emaciated frame --namely his osseous spine-- as I resume my walking and gesture for Samantha to follow suit.
"But, as a man, as a companion, I've not been accepted. If a mortal being must face the aftermath of a childhood they could not change --an occurrence which transpired over the span of ten to fifteen years-- what can you expect of someone who has received nothing but ostracism and repudiation for thousands of centuries? My very mother despised my conception! Is it truly astonishing that I've yet to cease being impressed with your continuous stay?"
Samantha dips her lips at their corners, flattening her stare as she angles away her countenance.
"Okay, well now I feel like a bitch for asking."
She deepens her frown when she retires her gaze on me again, eyes narrowed.
"But why do they hate you so much? I just don't get it. You're like... the nicest guy ever. If Tom Hanks and Keanu Reeves had a baby, you would be the result."
I press my lips together again, lifting my gaze to the dense ring of trees looming overhead, wishing to evade her inquiry as images of my first years free of Kronos shadow the corners of my mind. The anger I faced, the resentment. The rejection. Being forced into isolation.
She follows the direction of my line of vision, awaiting my answer with silent eagerness. I frown, knowing she will continue asking me if I do not respond.
"I closely resemble Kronos in appearance. I remind my siblings and the Olympian population of the being who forced us all to endure great hardship."
Samantha grows silent, and I turn to glance at her uncertainly, expecting to find pity in her expression since she has always kissed me with sadness when upon happenstance, the subject of the past has come up. I am surprised, however, when I find irritation there, instead.
Her brows are knitted closely together, eyes fixed keenly as her lips contort into a scowl.
"That's it? Those assholes treat you like shit because you look like Kronos?"
I shake my head.
"I would not say their treatment of me is abhorrent, for they too are a product of unseemly circumstance, but I can say it is not the most warm. And even so, I find that I can not blame them for their ill behavior. Had Zeus or Poseidon held Kronos' countenance, I would have despised them just as well."
"No, you wouldn't."
I raise a brow at her quick reply, mildly surprised with her vehement defense. It is in her nature to be passionate, I suspect it is the very reason she was abrasive with those surrounding her in the mortal realm. She means well, though her manner of expressing herself may at times be a bit... erroneous.
"How can one be certain?"
"Because I know you, and I know you're not like Zeus or Poseidon. I've met them, and I can tell you with absolute confidence that I got the best of the three."
The edges of my lips curl up, despite the solemnity of our conversation.
"You are fortunate, I hope this fact does not evade you."
Samantha smiles slyly, turning to gaze at me with a raised brow.
"Don't flatter yourself, I could say the same thing about Thanatos."
She pauses for a second, contemplating something as she gains a keen gleam in her eye.
"Apollo, too. He was very helpful during your absence, you know. Turns out he's very good with his hands."
I can feel my smile dim slightly, but I swiftly recover, hoping Samantha did not catch it. Fortunately, she does not, because her gaze has shifted elsewhere as she no doubt reflects on the golden youth, and the wonderful times spent alongside one another.
The same slithery sensation I felt when he kissed her returns, and I promptly suppress it, swallowing back a dense lump of a second unfamiliar feeling as a thought strikes me. My lips twitch into an impish grin as the boundaries of Elysium come into full display, knowing my next words will certainly embed a dent into her armor.
"In such sense, so is Persephone. She aided me well after she stumbled upon me in the meadows of Demeter. Quite a talented maiden, the spring goddess."
Samantha falters in her step as we approach the thick ring of woods protecting the domain's borders, but as usual, promptly restores her confidence and blurts out her current thoughts-- tone biting.
"He's a good kisser, too."
She is swift in her counter, too swift, and it gives her away.
"He is a god, I expect no less."
I assure myself of maintaining a level voice, smoothing out my features into a composed expression as I lift my free hand before Elysium's threshold, weakening its enchanted tenacity before passing through it, Samantha following suit.
Bright, warm rays of simulated sunlight greet us in friendly embrace, extending us a token of welcome with the chromatic flowers it bathes in a golden overcast, kissing our skin hello with its light, cool breeze and faint brushes of drifting frond morsels-- elated of the two fresh presences treading its first few patches of paradise.
Beside me, Samantha grows silent, swallowing back the words dancing on the tip of her tongue, deciding on closing her eyes and basking in the sweet caresses of the artificial emanation of brilliancy rather than on developing a crass retort-- allowing a silky sigh to slip past her lips as I reach for her hand, giving it a mild tug to continue to our destination.
Paradise is enrapturing-- to a startling degree-- and it is an effortless task for one not accustomed to it to become ensnared within its device. A considerable portion of its power is invested in maintaining intruders out, and should one be successful in trespassing, they immediately buckle to the domain's beauty, and slowly dissipate into oblivion in the form of minuscule particles of carbon-- transformed into an element which will aid the growth of new plant life.
Rulers of the realm we may be, but regardless of our titles, we do not belong within its borders, and should we remain rooted to the same post, we will be expelled from its threshold. It is a place of rest for troubled souls just as it is a well-constructed machine created to preserve and repel. The domains of the Underworld all harbor irresistible charm --even Tartarus in all its grotesqueness possesses it-- and all retain a rather subliminally hideous aspect as well.
We approach a pair of adjacent slopes, ambling past their circumferences while I pay heed to our surroundings, eyeing the faraway souls much too engrossed in their bliss to notice our hidden forms, assuring myself of sensing about any forthcoming beings in close proximity.
Finding nothing, I hastily push us toward a narrow cavity -- one barely visible to the naked eye-- located someplace within the broader hill, hidden by a force of Hecate's energy before guiding us across it. It is directly cohered to the maze-like borders of the domain, and as its egress dislodges us onto darker, less lively ground, I tighten my embrace around the child's bleak frame, freely grazing the contours of his obtruding shoulder blades.
That which lies beyond us may very well alter the course of our lives, and I intend on preserving what little I may maintain secure. Delivering Samantha's hand a firm compress, I begin our journey down the length of the murky labyrinth.
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