We gathered ourselves slowly, like the dead waking to another day of torment. Every inch of us was battered, broken, and worn. Just standing up felt like defying gravity itself. The underworld had drained everything it could from us—and then some.

  I glanced over at Zefpyre. His once brilliant blue flames now burned hotter and wilder than ever before, a searing light in this abyss. But his eyes… his eyes were different. There was something in them—something hollow, like he’d seen truths too terrible to unsee. I wondered how many more pieces of himself he’d had to leave behind down here. I didn’t dare ask.

  “What the hell are you staring at, Holmes?” he growled.

  I shook off the thought and smirked. “Just your ugly mug, Zef.”

  Mattie touched my arm gently, her voice soft but firm. “Boss man… enough.”

  I turned to her, surprised by her confidence. She’d changed too—freer, lighter somehow, despite the weight of this damn place pressing down on us. Her steps carried purpose now. She wasn’t the same kid I took under my wing. Growth had a price in the underworld, and she was paying it—but hell, maybe she was handling it better than either of us.

  We continued deeper into Hades’ Realm, where the underworld shifted dramatically. No longer was it a fog-choked wasteland of lost souls. This was a kingdom, a terrible and awe-inspiring dominion crafted for the dead, by the dead, under the iron gaze of the God of the Dead.

  Eyes—endless eyes—watched us from every corner of this place, burrowing into my soul like they wanted to strip it bare. They were thirsty for it, hungry for everything we carried inside.

  We walked through streets lined with gemstones and wonders that could make any mortal the richest bastard alive. The walls shimmered with veins of gold and diamonds, but it wasn’t beauty. It was opulence twisted into a trap, a reminder that Hades was not just a Lord of Death—he was also Plouton, Lord of the Riches beneath the earth. Zefpyre whistled low, his flames flickering in fascination.

  "No wonder he’s called the Lord of Riches," Zef muttered.

  “Don’t touch anything,” Mattie whispered. “Lord Hades doesn’t share.”

  I blinked, surprised by how assertive she was becoming. It was a change I wasn’t entirely used to. Her voice carried a quiet authority now, something earned down here in this pit of despair. I gave her a nod of acknowledgment. She’d come a long way.

  We kept walking, and that’s when we saw it—a scar in the earth ahead, stretching for what seemed like an eternity. The ground grew colder, the air heavier. A shadow darker than the deepest void seemed to coil around it. It was Tartarus, a chasm of endless darkness. The howling winds carried the wails of the damned like a haunting melody.

  Great iron chains stretched across the abyss, binding titans—beings too ancient and terrible to be remembered by the living. I felt their presence deep in my bones, like a primordial fear awakening inside me. The chains groaned under their weight, but they held. Barely.

  "I really don’t want to walk past that," Mattie whispered, her voice trembling.

  Zefpyre sighed, his flames dimming slightly. “Unfortunately, the path leads right by it.”

  I lit a fresh cigar with a flick of my thumb and took a deep drag, letting the smoke settle over me like armor. “This damn place… it never gives us a moment’s rest, does it?”

  Overhead, harpies circled the chasm, their shrieks sharp and grating. But then I saw them—figures that made my blood turn cold and every instinct in me scream danger.

  The Three Furies.

  They hovered in the distance, wings of shadow and wrath beating against the air. Their eyes glowed like embers of rage, locked onto us with a predatory hunger. They didn’t need to move yet. Their presence alone was enough to poison the air with fear.

  “Nightmare fuel,” Zef muttered under his breath.

  "Keep your wits about you," I said through gritted teeth. “This isn’t a fight we want to pick.”

  Mattie clutched her staff tighter, her knuckles going white. The silence between us stretched as the Furies loomed like a promise of torment to come.

  “Let’s move,” I finally whispered.

  We pressed on, every step feeling heavier as the abyss yawned beside us, daring us to falter. But we didn’t. We walked forward, one agonizing step at a time, haunted by the ever-present knowledge that down here, everything has a price—and our debts were growing by the second.

  As we approached, the Furies began to take notice of us. Their presence was like a storm cloud of pure malevolence descending upon our souls. Alecto, the embodiment of unceasing anger, locked eyes with us, her gaze simmering with relentless fury. Megaera, seething with envy and grudging hatred, hissed through jagged teeth, while Tisiphone, cold and merciless, reeked of vengeance as if every murdered soul she ever avenged still clung to her shadow like a curse.

  They screamed in unison—a sound like the wrath of the cosmos itself unraveling—and if I had anything left in my bladder, it would have been emptied right then and there. Their leathery wings, spanning terror and despair, unfurled like shadows blotting out what little light dared to exist here. They flew towards us, hissing with voices that sliced the air like daggers.

  "The Living!" they shrieked.

  Mattie looked like she was about to bolt. I grabbed her hand, tightening my grip until her trembling steadied.

  “Don’t,” I said in a low, gravelly voice. “There’s no point. We’re on their home turf.”

  The Furies swooped down upon us with a force that sent the wind howling around our feet. They screeched again, their voices clawing at the edges of my mind. I stood my ground, lighting another cigar with a flick of my thumb. If they were going to kill me, I’d damn well enjoy this last smoke.

  Zefpyre didn’t seem bothered in the slightest, his flames still burning with that eerie blue calm. Mattie, on the other hand, looked ready to fight for all of existence. Unfortunately, I had the sinking suspicion that she’d be fighting alone if it came to that. I had nothing left in me—just a battered soul, broken bones, and a thin shield of apathy.

  Alecto chuckled darkly, a sound like grinding stone. She tilted her head at Mattie.

  “Oh, little wizard, do you wish to fight us? Please, do make our day.”

  Mattie’s grip tightened on her staff, but her eyes flicked to me for direction. I shook my head slightly.

  Megaera screeched in frustration, her claws twitching with anticipation.

  “I wish to rip your souls from your bodies,” she spat, her voice dripping with venom. “I want to drink your blood, taste your fear!”

  Alecto glanced at her sister and chuckled, a cold sound that echoed like a death knell.

  “Always so bloodthirsty, dear sister. I love it.”

  I took a slow drag of my cigar, exhaling smoke into the foul air as I met Alecto’s gaze head-on.

  “Are you going to let us pass, or are we going to keep playing this little intimidation game?”

  Alecto sighed dramatically, rolling her glowing, hollow eyes.

  “Unfortunately, we can’t touch you. You’re under the favor of both our Lord and our Grandmother.”

  Her face twisted into a mask of barely restrained rage.

  “But I do hope she tires of you soon. I’d love to feast on your soul.”

  Megaera snarled in agreement, her claws tearing through the air as if imagining my throat between them.

  “Oh, how delicious it would be,” she muttered, her voice low and feral.

  The three of them burst into cruel, echoing laughter before turning back toward Tartarus. They resumed their grotesque duties, tormenting those unfortunate enough to be chained in its depths.

  As they flew away, the suffocating weight of their presence lifted slightly. I took another long puff, letting the nicotine and smoke settle me. Mattie whispered, her voice shaky but strong beneath it all.

  “I hate this place.”

  “Yeah,” I muttered, releasing a stream of smoke into the abyss.

  “Welcome to Hell.”

  With that, we trudged forward, each step taking us closer to Hades’ Court and the next trial waiting to bleed us dry.

  The Kingdom of Hades was a paradox, a realm where beauty and horror danced in unholy harmony. Soldiers from every age, every kingdom, every war ever fought, marched in disciplined formations, their armor clinking like faint echoes of death. They paid us no mind—a mercy in a place where attention often meant your doom. It was unsettling, though, how orderly they were, like specters locked in a routine they could never break, condemned to fight a war that never ends. It was a breath of fresh air… or at least, as fresh as air could be in this place where the atmosphere reeked of ancient regret and forgotten victories.

  As we moved through the streets of Hades’ dominion, something deep within me began to stir. A shift, a fracture in the foundation of who I thought I was. It was subtle at first, a whisper I couldn't quite catch. But I knew—knew—it had everything to do with the River Lethe. I couldn’t remember what I'd lost in those waters, but somehow, I was… lighter. Not empty, just different. The endless rage that had burned within me for centuries, the fire that had kept me going through every trial, every defeat, every betrayal… It wasn’t gone exactly, but it had changed.

  I’ve been angry my entire life.

  From the moment I could understand words, I was told I wasn’t good enough. Holmes—a name whispered with awe across the Multiverse, a dynasty built on intellect, power, and ruthless ambition. And yet, to my family, I was the flaw. The unwanted, the mistake, the ghost in the shadow of titans. They saw me as a blight on the honor of our House before I’d even been given the chance to prove myself. I was the wrong choice, the broken branch on the family tree. Even banishment wasn’t punishment enough in their eyes. They hated that I even had the right to our name.

  It didn’t help that I had a knack for disaster. The Calamity I caused... so many people dead. More lives than I could ever account for, even with the vastness of magic at my disposal. Their screams still echo sometimes, like ghosts etched into my bones. That blood has never washed away. It’s a stain that time won’t let me forget.

  But now... now I feel something else. Something foreign. Peace.

  Not the kind you dream about when you’re young and stupid. No, this was darker, heavier—an acceptance of fate, of my own failures. I didn’t need their validation anymore. Their hatred, their scorn, it no longer mattered. The only person whose opinion ever mattered to me was the one I drove away in my blind rage to prove myself. Cassidy…

  She fell through the cracks of my pride, my ambition, my stupidity. She was the only one who ever saw me for more than the disaster my family claimed me to be. And I ruined it. Just like I ruin everything.

  But that ends here.

  I swear, if I ever claw my way out of this cursed ashtray, I’m going to find her. I’m going to win her back.

  And this time, I won’t let go.

  Mattie narrowed her eyes at me. "What the hell is wrong with you? You seem... off."

  I chuckled—a dark, raspy sound that echoed through the oppressive underworld air. It wasn’t even a real laugh, just a bitter reflex of the absurdity surrounding us. Unfortunately, the reaction wasn’t appreciated.

  Zefpyre winced, his flames dimming momentarily. "For the love of all the Lords," he hissed, "please stop laughing. Every time you laugh down here, a goddamn horde of hellspawn shows up."

  Mattie crossed her arms, frustration boiling to the surface. "Can you please, for once, start taking this seriously? Just one fucking thing! Maybe then we can actually get out of here without something else trying to rip our souls apart."

  I took a long drag from my cigar, letting the thick, acrid smoke fill my lungs before exhaling slowly. "Relax, kid. Don’t harsh my vibe. We’ll get out of here just fine. One step at a time."

  She glared at me like she was debating whether to throttle me or not, but Zefpyre gave an exasperated sigh and motioned for us to keep moving. We crossed into a large pavilion, its structure impossibly grand for something buried deep in the underworld. It was like something torn straight from the palaces of Olympus. Opulent marble columns framed a long banquet table groaning under the weight of an endless feast—roasted meats glistening with honey glaze, bowls of exotic fruits, and goblets filled with wine so rich it shimmered like liquid gold.

  But none of it was being touched. Not by the lone figure seated at the head of the table.

  He was bone-thin, his skin pale and stretched tight over his sharp features. He wore a suit of impeccable craftsmanship—tailored to perfection, dripping in wealth and grandeur. But there was desperation in his movements. His trembling hand hovered over a glass of water, trying in vain to lift it to his lips. It was as if the very air around him refused to let him drink, refused to let him sate his hunger. His eyes—cold, calculating, and full of malice—fixed on us as we approached.

  Then he laughed. Not just any laugh—a laugh so hollow, so dripping with malevolence, it curdled the air around us. He clapped his hands slowly, each clap reverberating like the toll of a death knell.

  "Ah, at last. I've been waiting for you three idiots." His voice was slick, like oil seeping into every crack and crevice. "Please, have a seat. Join me. Although..." He gestured mockingly at the table, "...I would offer you a glass of wine, maybe a taste of food. But, alas, that is out of my control."

  I leaned in close to Mattie and Zefpyre, my voice a low whisper. "Don’t touch anything. This food is cursed. Zeus himself laid the punishment here. We’re dealing with Tantalus."

  The man’s grin widened as he heard his name. His eyes gleamed with cruel amusement. "Ah, so you have heard of me. Wonderful. Then you know exactly what kind of torment you're dealing with." He leaned forward, his skeletal fingers tapping against the edge of his untouched plate. "And let me tell you, I’m more than happy to share a bit of that torment... unless you have something interesting to offer me."

  Mattie swallowed hard, her gaze darting to the feast. Even though she knew better, the aroma of the food seemed to pull at her senses. Zefpyre’s flames flickered uneasily as he watched Tantalus, his usual smug confidence dulled by the tension in the air.

  "Don’t listen to him," I warned, taking another drag of my cigar. "This bastard’s been starved for more than food. He’s starving for a chance to drag someone else down with him."

  Tantalus chuckled again, his voice slithering between us like a serpent. "Oh, Julius. Always so cynical. But you’re right, of course. Misery does love company. And I suspect your little journey here will offer me plenty of entertainment."

  The underworld itself seemed to shudder at his words. The walls of the pavilion darkened, shadows growing longer as if to encroach upon us. This wasn’t just another stop on the road to Persephone’s garden—this was a trap, another layer of torment waiting to ensnare us if we weren’t careful. And if there was one thing I knew for certain, it was that Tantalus wouldn’t let us leave without a fight.

  Tantalus’s eyes gleamed with amusement as he lounged back in his chair, his skeletal fingers tapping idly on the table. "So tell me, travelers," he sneered, "why shouldn’t you get up from this table and just keep walking forward?"

  I took a long drag from my cigar, letting the smoke curl around my face before answering. "Yeah, why shouldn’t we?"

  His grin widened, his teeth a grotesque gleam in the dim underworld light. "Because," he said slowly, savoring every word like venom dripping from his tongue, "you need to know how to deal with her."

  He chuckled darkly. The sound grated on my nerves, echoing like the rattling of chains deep in the abyss. Mattie straightened, her curiosity outweighing her fear. "And what will you tell us? How do we get an offering from—"

  The ground beneath us shook violently, and a low, ominous rumble spread through the pavilion like distant thunder. The shadows deepened, the air growing colder and heavier.

  "Silence!" Tantalus roared, his face twisting in fury. "Do not say her name here! The Lord of the Dead doesn’t take kindly to her being mentioned around me. He’s very… possessive when it comes to her."

  Mattie froze, eyes wide with shock. I shot her a warning glance.

  Tantalus’s voice lowered, becoming almost conspiratorial. "Death doesn’t love easily. And when he does, it's a fire that doesn’t burn out. But let me tell you—" he laughed bitterly, the sound hollow and filled with rage—"she’s a piece of work herself. Loves to come here just to torture me. The bitch finds it entertaining to watch me suffer."

  Zefpyre crossed his arms, a faint blue glow pulsing from his flames. "Great story. So what do you want? Let's cut the bullshit," he said, his voice dripping with disdain.

  Tantalus leaned forward, his smile stretching into something both sinister and revolting. It was a smile that had seen centuries of torment and still found pleasure in causing pain. "Simple," he hissed. "I want out. I want you to take me out of the underworld."

  I snorted, taking another pull of my cigar. "Yeah, right. And how exactly would we do that?"

  Zefpyre narrowed his eyes. "And how do you know that we wouldn’t just stab you in the back the second we get free from you?"

  "Good question, Bic Lighter," Tantalus said with a mocking grin. "Here’s how: You’ll swear on the River Styx. All three of you."

  The words hit like a punch to the gut. The River Styx wasn’t just any oath—it was binding, absolute. To break it meant a fate worse than death.

  "Absolutely not," the three of us said in unison, our voices laced with a shared sense of horror and disbelief.

  Tantalus leaned back in his chair, chuckling darkly as if we were the punchline to a sick joke. "Well, good luck dealing with the bitch on your own then," he sneered. "You’ll need it."

  The shadows seemed to close in tighter around us, the weight of his words hanging like a death sentence. I exchanged glances with Mattie and Zefpyre. This wasn’t going to be as simple as crossing a river or surviving a labyrinth. No, we were in the domain of gods now, and nothing here was ever simple.

  I sat there, tension thick as smoke curling from my cigar. Mattie looked like she was ready to bolt, and I was about to join her when Tantalus, with that eerily mocking voice of his, chimed in again.

  "You know," he drawled, his words sliding into the air like poison, "she doesn’t like to share anything from her garden. She learned that from her dear, possessive husband. But..." he trailed off, a malicious grin stretching across his gaunt face, "there is a way to get what you need."

  I glared at him, my patience hanging by a thread. "And I’m guessing you'll only tell us if we agree to take you with us, out of this lovely paradise?"

  He shrugged, all smug indifference. "It doesn’t have to be Earth. Just out of the Underworld. That’s not too much to ask, is it?"

  Zefpyre groaned, flames flickering hotter around him. "You still haven’t even told us how the fuck we’re supposed to do that, ash-brain."

  Tantalus’s fist slammed down on the table, shaking the empty goblets and cursed platters around us. "When Chiron shows you the way out, all you have to do is turn your merry little trio into a party of four."

  I frowned. "The way Chiron shows us only allows for three. That's what we've been told."

  Tantalus scoffed. "Bah, enough questions! I already know how he'll guide you—I just don’t know how to reach it myself. But I do know the destination."

  "And this destination is?" I asked, letting the words draw out as I exhaled smoke.

  He sat back, smoothing his tie like some grotesque caricature of nobility. "Through the Sands of the Universe."

  My mind clicked. "Wait, are you talking about the Duat? The Egyptian lands of the dead?"

  Tantalus's grin widened. "Bingo. Osiris is a lot more willing to help the living than his Greek counterpart. If you want a shortcut back to the land of the breathing, that's your path."

  Mattie’s eyes widened with panic. "No... No. I can’t do this all over again. I can’t!" She shook her head violently, her breathing quickening.

  Tantalus let out a sick, rasping laugh that echoed through the pavilion. "Oh, sweet little girl, did you really think Chiron—ferryman to the damned—would guide you anywhere but to another land of the dead? You’re even more pathetic and na?ve than I imagined."

  "Huh," I said, blowing another ring of smoke into the void between us. "What does that make you, then? Since you need us so badly."

  His smile twisted into something dark and hateful. "Beggars can’t be fucking choosers, now can they?" His words dripped with venom. "So what’s it going to be? Do you want to slog your sorry asses all the way to her garden, only to find yourselves empty-handed, crawling back here on your knees to beg me for a second chance? Or are you going to take my very generous offer and save yourselves the misery?"

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  I stood up, shaking my head. "We’re leaving."

  Mattie hesitated, still shaken, but I grabbed her hand gently. "Come on. We can’t believe a single word he says. He's nothing but a starving liar with nothing left but his schemes."

  She nodded slowly, and I gave Tantalus one last glare before we turned our backs on him. His laughter followed us like a curse, but I didn’t look back. The Underworld wasn’t done with us yet—but neither were we done with it.

  As we trudged forward, deeper into the heart of Hades’ Kingdom, the world around us twisted into something surreal. Before us rose a massive, jagged mountain—one that seemed out of place in the midst of this dead kingdom. The air grew heavier with each step, suffocating in its eerie silence. And on that cursed peak, I saw two figures bound to their eternal suffering.

  A man of immense stature, muscles rippling beneath a layer of dirt and grime, strained against the weight of a massive boulder. His face contorted in agony, not just from the exertion but from the despair etched into his very soul. He heaved the boulder upward, inch by inch, his feet slipping on the rocky terrain. But as he neared the summit, the boulder defied his will, slipping from his grasp and crashing back down to the base of the mountain with a sickening inevitability.

  Further up, another man was chained to the cliffside. His body was grotesquely mutilated, flesh torn in a cycle of endless torment. Birds of prey with razor-sharp beaks and dead, unfeeling eyes circled overhead. With mechanical precision, they swooped down, tearing chunks of his flesh away. The man screamed, his voice a wretched, hollow echo that bounced off the mountain walls. Yet his wounds never healed fast enough to escape the torment, nor did they let him die.

  Mattie’s voice, barely above a whisper, broke the silence. "I know who they are..."

  I glanced at her, surprised by the solemn tone in her voice. She looked pale, as though merely witnessing their punishment brought a weight to her soul.

  "Go on, kid," I said quietly, not wanting to draw the attention of the tormented men—or the creatures that feasted on them.

  "That’s Sisyphus," she explained, nodding toward the man with the boulder. "He was cursed to push that rock for eternity because he tricked the gods, cheated death, and thought he could outsmart fate."

  "And the other one?" Zefpyre asked, his flames flickering dimly as though in response to the oppressive atmosphere.

  "Prometheus," Mattie whispered, her voice carrying a tremor of awe and fear. "He defied Zeus, gave fire to humanity… and for that, he was sentenced to have his liver eaten every day by those birds."

  "Talk about a thankless job," Zefpyre muttered under his breath.

  I took a long drag of my cigar, the smoke curling around me like a shroud. "You’d think the gods would eventually get tired of punishing these poor bastards. But nope… pain is eternal here. The gods love their theater, and nothing screams divine vengeance like forcing two guys to suffer forever."

  The rock rolled back down the mountain once again with a deafening crash, and Sisyphus turned to watch it, his eyes hollow and devoid of hope. His face twitched as though he wanted to scream but had long since learned the futility of it.

  "Hey," I called out without thinking, my voice cutting through the oppressive stillness. Both men momentarily looked in our direction. Their gazes pierced through me like specters from my darkest dreams.

  "What are you doing?" Mattie hissed, tugging on my arm. "Don’t talk to them!"

  But Sisyphus, for a brief moment, cracked the faintest of smiles. "Another fool come to gawk at our suffering?" he rasped. "Or perhaps you’re just passing through, thinking you’re somehow better than us?"

  "No," I said after a pause. "I’m just wondering how long you’ve been at this."

  His laughter was raw and bitter. "Time has no meaning here. I’ve been at this for lifetimes, and I’ll be here long after you’re dust and forgotten." He sighed, wiping sweat from his brow. "But you… you’re different. The Underworld doesn’t like you. It’s afraid of what you might change."

  I blinked in surprise at that, the weight of his words settling deep within my chest. Prometheus let out a soft chuckle, though his voice was hoarse and broken from centuries of screaming.

  "Change doesn’t come easy here," Prometheus muttered. "But perhaps the Underworld hasn’t seen the likes of you in a long time."

  The birds descended again, claws tearing into his flesh. He gritted his teeth and hissed in pain but continued to watch us with knowing eyes.

  Prometheus chuckled softly, the sound rough like stones grinding together. “Flame elemental, you know I’m basically the father of your entire kind,” he said, his voice dripping with smug authority.

  Zefpyre stiffened, his flames flaring briefly before dimming. It was as though the words physically struck him. His jaw clenched. “I owe you nothing,” he hissed, the heat in his voice barely restrained.

  Prometheus laughed again, though it came with a wince as one of the vultures swooped back to tear into his side. “No need to get so defensive. I was just thinking maybe, just maybe, you’d like to do your old man a favor. You know, a little familial courtesy.”

  “Sorry, Lord Prometheus,” Zefpyre snapped, his tone cold despite the flames that simmered within him, “but I’m fresh out of favors.”

  Nearby, Sisyphus sat at the base of his cursed mountain, sweat and grime streaking his skin. He smirked in our direction, exhaustion painting his every word. “So tell me, where are you three lovely sacks of mortal flesh off to in this delightful corner of the damned and the dead?”

  Mattie spoke softly, but her voice carried through the oppressive air. “To the Lady of this kingdom’s garden.”

  Both Prometheus and Sisyphus exchanged knowing glances, their expressions darkening. In unison, they murmured, “Ah... I see.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “What’s with that look?”

  Sisyphus wiped his hands on his tattered loincloth and shook his head. “Let’s just say, I’d rather spend eternity rolling this rock up the mountain than set foot near her again.”

  Prometheus chuckled darkly, biting back a groan as the bird tore deeper into his flesh. “Don’t listen to him. She’s not that bad. It’s not the Lady you should be worried about... it’s her mother.”

  Zefpyre’s flames stuttered and then reignited with a vengeance. “Wait. Lady Demeter is here?”

  “Of course,” Prometheus replied with a sly grin. “It’s the season after all.”

  I froze for a moment, my mind racing. “The season?” I echoed. “It was summer when we left. How long have we been here?”

  Prometheus smiled with a kind of wicked amusement. “Ah, time in the Underworld. It’s not exactly… linear.” He waved his bloodstained hand in an abstract circle. “Think of it like some wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey stuff.”

  I blinked. “Did you just quote the Doctor?”

  Prometheus broke into a laugh, though it was interrupted by a painful cough. “We get all sorts of travelers down here. Some have... interesting stories.”

  The thought settled like a heavy stone in my gut. Time wasn't just slipping away—it was unraveling, coiling around us in unpredictable loops. How long had we been down here? Weeks? Months? Years?

  As we continued our journey, the weight of uncertainty pressed on us harder than the suffocating air of the Underworld. For the first time, I felt the gnawing question echoing in the pit of my mind: What has happened on Earth while we’ve been here? What had we lost in our absence?

  Each step forward became more burdened with that thought. Whatever the answer was, we knew one thing for certain: time in the realm of the living wouldn’t wait for us. And neither would the dangers that lay ahead.

  As we continued to walk through Hades' kingdom, the oppressive silence weighed down on us. Each step echoed like a death knell through the cavernous expanse of the underworld. The world around us was heavy with despair, yet somewhere deep inside, I felt a strange lightness that I couldn't explain. I took a deep drag from my cigar, savoring the bite of the smoke as it mixed with the stagnant, death-scented air.

  Mattie broke the silence, her voice hushed like she was afraid the shadows themselves would hear. "I thought Lady Demeter was known to be loving and kind... one of the most revered Lords. So why is everyone here trying to scare us with these stories?"

  I exhaled slowly, the smoke curling like a ghost around us. "She is. I've met her before. They're just trying to spread fear and doubt. These people..." I glanced up the mountain where a man strained under the eternal weight of a boulder, his muscles rippling and trembling with futile effort. Every time he reached the summit, the rock would slip and roll back down. Further up the cliffside, another figure writhed in agony as a monstrous bird of prey tore at his flesh, only for his wounds to heal and the torment to begin again. "These poor bastards have been tortured for longer than even they can remember. Of course, they want us to fail. Misery loves company."

  Mattie frowned, her gaze lingering on the damned figures. "There's something... different about you."

  I barked out a short, bitter laugh, the sound bouncing hollowly off the jagged walls of the mountain pass. "Oy, there’s something different about all of us, kid. This place has reshaped us more than you realize. We’ve been through two rivers, endless trials, and we’ve come out the other side broken, sure, but stronger for it. You think we’re the same after all that?"

  She crossed her arms, giving me a look like she wasn’t buying it. "Still, you're acting... too different."

  I sighed, blowing another cloud of smoke. I glanced at Zefpyre, whose flame-tinted form glowed eerily against the underworld’s perpetual gloom. His burning eyes narrowed suspiciously.

  "Look, I feel free for the first time in my life," I admitted. "That doesn’t mean I’ve gone soft. You both have changed, too. Hell, Zef’s fire is burning hotter than ever."

  Zefpyre smirked, the flames around him flickering with a subtle intensity. "You’re supposed to be an insufferable, cigar-smoking ass. Don’t go soft on us now, Julius."

  I snorted. "Don’t worry, Zef. There’s still enough of that bastard left in me to keep you on your toes."

  Zefpyre's flames hissed as he chuckled. "Toes? I don’t even have toes in this form, dumbass."

  "Well," I retorted with a smirk, "when you turn back into a cat, you'll have only toes."

  Mattie groaned in exasperation. "Boss, you’re scaring me a bit. You’re not... you."

  I looked at her, raising an eyebrow. "What? I can’t be happy?"

  "How are you happy here?" she screamed, her voice echoing through the oppressive silence like a defiant battle cry.

  I gave her a soft smile, one I wasn’t sure had any right to exist in this hellscape. "I have no idea, kid. But for once in my life, I don’t feel like I’m dragging the entire weight of the multiverse behind me. That’s gotta count for something."

  Mattie stared at me like she didn’t know whether to scream or cry. I didn’t blame her. I didn’t fully understand what was happening either. But whatever this strange calm was, I knew one thing for certain—it didn’t belong here. And that unsettled the Underworld as much as it unsettled her.

  As our conversation faded into silence, I finally took a long look at our surroundings. For the first time in what felt like ages, something other than shadow and decay stretched before us. To my left, an endless plain rolled out in muted hues of grey and ash. Rows upon rows of figures wandered aimlessly through the haze, their faces blank, their forms half-forgotten echoes of who they once were.

  “Woah,” Mattie whispered, her voice barely audible as if she feared waking the dead. Maybe she was right to.

  “I knew this place was here,” Zefpyre muttered, his flames dimming to a soft blue glow. “But this... this is unspeakable.”

  I took a deep, slow puff of my cigar, letting the smoke coil around me like a comforting shroud. "The Fields of Asphodel," I finally said, my voice low and reverent, though a bitter edge crept into my tone. “A final resting place for those who neither shine nor fail. The souls who lived mediocre lives, neither good nor evil enough to find peace or punishment. Just... stuck. Forgotten even by the gods.”

  The three of us stood there for a moment, the gravity of it sinking in. Figures drifted aimlessly, their movements sluggish like leaves caught in a windless void. Their eyes were hollow, devoid of anything resembling hope or sorrow. There was nothing left of them but the shell of existence, a dull rhythm of endless wandering.

  "Look at them," Zefpyre said quietly. "They’re... nothing. No purpose, no dreams, no nightmares. Just stuck in some eternal limbo."

  I flicked the ash from my cigar, watching it drift to the cracked earth below. "Yeah. No glory, no redemption, no damnation. Just... mediocrity carved into eternity." I shook my head. “This is what happens when you live without purpose. A life half-lived. I think I'd rather take the fires of Tartarus.”

  Mattie shuddered. "I can't imagine anything worse than this. It's like they're not even aware of themselves anymore."

  “They probably aren’t,” I replied, my gaze fixed on a shadowed figure that brushed past us, eyes empty and unfocused. It didn’t even seem to register that we were there. I sighed. “This is what you get when you forget to live. You stop being anything at all.”

  For a moment, a bitter chuckle escaped my lips. “Hell, maybe that’s the worst curse of all—fading away, losing every piece of yourself until you’re just a ghost of apathy wandering in endless fog."

  Zefpyre raised an eyebrow. “You sure you're not describing yourself there, Holmes?”

  I shot him a glare. “Real funny, Bic lighter. At least I’m still walking forward, not sleepwalking through oblivion.”

  Zefpyre muttered, his flames dimming to a soft blue glow. “Don’t… Call… me that.”

  Mattie tugged at my sleeve gently. “Let’s keep moving. I don’t want to stay here any longer than we have to.”

  “Yeah,” I said, exhaling another plume of smoke. “Let’s go. We’ve got better things to haunt than this place.”

  We turned and made our way forward, the figures around us fading back into the endless, aimless fog. Their presence lingered like a ghostly weight, a grim reminder of what awaited those who let life slip between their fingers.

  Hades' Kingdom was as vast and complex as the many souls it held—each square inch seemed to serve a purpose, a delicate balance between punishment, reward, and endless toil. Yet even with all its riches, every detail infused with Hades' taste for grandeur, nothing had prepared us for the sight before us now. This place... it was beyond words. Even Eden, with its serenity and beauty, had not stolen my breath the way this place did.

  Mattie whispered in awe, "This must be Elysium."

  "Yeah, kid. If it’s not, then I might as well have a heart attack and die just to make sure I can live here," I replied, exhaling a slow puff of my cigar.

  The word "paradise" fell short. "Heaven" might've been closer, but even that seemed lacking. The streets shimmered like rivers of diamonds and gold, reflecting a brilliant light that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere. Towering structures of pure elegance stood like monuments to divine perfection. Each building made the grandest earthly mansions look like hovels. And the people here—they walked with a presence that defied human limitations, more like demigods or the superheroes you'd read about in comic books. Heroes from forgotten ages lived here, their spirits vibrant and eternal.

  We stood in awe, hypnotized by the sheer majesty of it all, until Mattie’s voice broke the spell. "Do you think... I could end up here one day?"

  I glanced at her, the kid's face filled with both hope and uncertainty. "Kid, I think you can end up wherever your heart desires," I said softly, truth lingering in my words.

  Zefpyre smirked and asked, "What about me, Julius? You think I’ve got a chance?"

  I grinned wickedly, the smoke from my cigar curling between us like serpents. "Ehh, I’d aim a little lower if I were you."

  He snorted in amusement, flipping me off with his flame-wreathed hand. "Go fuck yourself."

  All three of us laughed, the sound echoing through the shining streets. It was different here—lighter, freer. The oppressive weight of the underworld didn’t reach this place, as if laughter itself was welcomed and celebrated here. It felt so easy, so natural.

  But we had no time to linger. As we walked, the gleaming path led us to the end of Elysium and into something more somber. A towering courthouse loomed ahead. Endless rows of souls stood in line, waiting patiently for their judgment. The weight of eternity hung heavy in the air.

  At the heart of this massive court sat three figures: King Minos, Rhadamanthus, and Aeacus, the Judges of the Dead. Their presence dominated the scene, their eyes like twin voids of infinite wisdom and knowledge. Each face was a mask of impartiality, a living testament to duty and finality.

  Zefpyre whistled low. "Now that’s a court I wouldn’t want to stand trial in."

  "No shit," I muttered. We kept walking, cautious yet respectful of the scene. The line of souls stretched into infinity, each one silent, their fates balanced on the words of these immortal arbiters.

  Mattie hesitated for a moment. "What do you think they'll say about us... when our time comes?"

  I took another drag from my cigar, letting the smoke swirl between my teeth. "That we were a pain in the ass, most likely."

  She laughed softly, but beneath it, I could hear her uncertainty. We all felt it—this was the final measure of one's existence, a reckoning no mortal could escape. Yet, for now, we still walked among the living... or whatever passed for it down here.

  King Minos clapped twice, the echo like a gunshot through the vast, shadow-clad chamber. "DEAD!" he bellowed. "Make way for the living!"

  The damned souls parted, a silent wave, creating a path straight to the heart of the courtroom. It was eerie—like the underworld's version of Moses parting the Red Sea. Their hollow eyes followed us, their chains rattling softly as we moved forward.

  Mattie leaned in, whispering, “Can we run?”

  Zefpyre chuckled darkly. “And where exactly would we run to? We’re in the Underworld, kid. We signed up for this trip. We're under their jurisdiction now."

  I snorted smoke from my cigar. "Jurisdiction... wait. I think I finally understand Pennoyer v. Neff."

  Mattie blinked at me like I’d sprouted horns. "What are you even talking about?"

  “Sorry," I muttered, dragging on the cigar. "I took a semester of law school once. It’s a civil procedure case. Basically says that a court can only exercise jurisdiction over an out-of-state defendant if they’re served while physically present. Which... well, guess what? We just got served.”

  Zefpyre groaned. “Yeah, no shit. We’re stuck.”

  We reached the massive bench where the three Judges of the Dead loomed like ancient mountains. Minos sat at the center, smirking, his gavel in hand like a weapon of divine decree. To his left sat Rhadamanthus, whose stern gaze weighed on us like a tombstone. Aeacus on the right sighed deeply, already done with this charade before it even began.

  “Welcome,” Minos sneered, “to the Court of the Damned.”

  Rhadamanthus interrupted. “We have no power over the living, Minos.”

  Minos glared at him. “Hush now. Adults are talking.”

  Aeacus leaned on his elbow, his face etched with weariness. “This is a tribunal, Minos. We all share equal power.”

  “Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Minos retorted, waving him off. His gaze zeroed in on Mattie like a vulture circling fresh prey. “So, Mattie, is it? How would you like to become rich beyond measure?”

  Mattie stiffened. “Excuse me?”

  “Simple,” Minos purred. “Kill Julius here, and I’ll give you mountains of gold.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Why the hell would I do that?”

  “Because,” Minos said, leaning forward with a grin that reeked of malice, “your dear Matriarch contacted me. She asked me to make sure your little friend never leaves this place alive.”

  I groaned, dragging a hand down my face. “OYYYYY. That unsufferable woman. I can’t even rescue a few hundred souls without her meddling!”

  Minos slammed his gavel. “You should respect your mother. She’s a phenomenal woman,” he leered, his voice thick with something foul.

  “Eww, gross,” Zefpyre muttered. “I think Minos wants to fuck your mom, Julius.”

  “Aeacus, please,” Rhadamanthus muttered with a tired sigh.

  Aeacus glared at Zefpyre. “Decorum.”

  “Sorry, Your Honor. Won’t happen again,” Zefpyre deadpanned.

  I pinched the bridge of my nose and exhaled. “Look, can we just move on? How do we get out of here?”

  Rhadamanthus gave a small, almost amused smile. “Simple. Follow the bailiff out those doors. Enjoy the rest of your trip.”

  Minos slammed his gavel down hard enough to crack the stone beneath it. “NO! I dismiss them!” he snarled.

  Aeacus sighed, pointing to the waiting bailiff. We didn’t need to be told twice. We scuttled out, keeping our heads down.

  Just as the doors closed behind us, Aeacus’s voice echoed softly in my ears. “Be careful, Julius. That new attitude of yours is causing ripples. You’re drawing attention. Minos isn’t the only one eager to see you become a permanent resident.”

  “And when that day comes,” Minos hissed from beyond the doors, “I’ll be waiting... to judge you.”

  Mattie shuddered beside me, and I tightened my grip on the cigar. The Underworld wasn’t just trying to break us anymore. It was making plans.

  "Let's finish this," I said, exhaling a cloud of smoke that swirled like phantoms in the heavy underworld air. We trudged forward, our boots scraping the dry, cracked ground beneath us. In the distance, beyond the shadows and dead echoes of forgotten lives, we finally saw it—Persephone's Garden.

  It was surreal, a paradox of beauty and dread. A vast expanse of blooming life in the heart of death, where colors were more vibrant than any mortal eyes could conceive. Roses bled crimson like freshly spilled wine, violets shimmered with a haunting iridescence, and pale white lotuses floated on dark pools of water as if suspended in time. The air was thick with the perfume of life’s fleeting moments—a scent that was both intoxicating and oppressive.

  But it wasn’t comforting. No, this beauty was dangerous, the kind that ensnares the senses and lulls you into a false peace before ripping your heart out. Zefpyre narrowed his glowing eyes, his flames flickering uneasily in the presence of so much unchecked vitality. Mattie reached out to touch one of the blossoms near the garden's entrance, her fingers trembling, caught between awe and fear.

  "Don't," I said sharply. She froze and yanked her hand back like she’d been burned.

  "Why not?" she asked softly. "It's... beautiful. Isn't it?"

  "That's the trap," I replied. "Nothing here is freely given. Everything in this world has a price, and this... this garden? It's Persephone’s masterpiece. It doesn’t need thorns to bleed you dry."

  Zefpyre snorted, though there was no humor in it. "Great. So we're walking into the world's most deadly botanical death trap. Fantastic. Can’t wait to see what nightmare waits inside."

  We moved closer, and as we approached the arched entrance entwined with golden ivy, a deep hum resonated through the air—a sound like whispered secrets carried on the wind. It was as if the very plants were watching us, waiting. The shadows around the garden twisted unnaturally, shifting like predators lying in wait.

  Mattie gave me a sidelong glance, her voice tight. "Boss... Are we really ready for this?"

  I took a final drag from my cigar and let the smoke curl lazily from my mouth before crushing the butt beneath my heel.

  "Ready? No, Kid, we’re not. But when has that ever mattered?"

  With that, we stepped into the threshold of the garden, the air around us thickening as if we’d crossed into another world entirely. The whispers grew louder, seductive and threatening, blending into a chorus that echoed in the deepest recesses of our minds.

  The doors to life and death had never felt so close.

  Beneath the looming shadow of Hades’ colossal palace, at the very heart of the underworld, lay Persephone’s Garden, a realm of terrifying beauty and delicate menace. The moment we stepped into its boundaries, an unnatural hush descended, broken only by the faint rustle of spectral petals and the low, melodic hum of ancient, unseen forces. The air was heavy with the perfume of flowers that had never felt the warmth of the sun—rich and intoxicating, yet tinged with a bitterness that spoke of sorrow and eternal longing.

  The sky above us was veiled in perpetual twilight, painted in hues of deep violet and crimson, as though dusk had been frozen in time. Ghostly stars flickered faintly, and a crescent moon hung like a scythe—a silent reminder of the cyclical nature of life and death. Despite the gloom, an eerie phosphorescent glow emanated from the flora itself, illuminating the path ahead.

  The flowers here were unlike any that graced the lands of the living. Poppies, large as a man’s head, with petals black as midnight and veins of molten silver, drooped lazily as though drunk on their own narcotic fragrance. Their edges glimmered faintly as though kissed by starlight. Narcissus flowers, twisted and radiant, seemed to peer at us with eyes of amber dew, their scent sweet but cloying, almost suffocating in its intensity. Night-blooming lotus, shimmering like liquid moonlight, grew in pools of obsidian water that reflected the tortured souls flitting just beneath the surface.

  Ancient, twisted trees lined the garden’s pathways, their gnarled branches adorned with blood-red pomegranates, glistening like rubies. Their bark was dark and smooth as polished onyx, and when the wind whispered through their limbs, it carried voices—murmurs of forgotten dreams and lost promises. Some of the trees wept sap that shimmered like tears of gold, each drop a frozen lament from the countless spirits that once wandered these grounds.

  Vines, serpentine and pulsing faintly with ethereal life, crept along the labyrinthine paths, bearing blossoms that shimmered like shifting galaxies. They curled toward us with a slow, sentient awareness, as though curious to entangle themselves in our thoughts and memories. Every leaf seemed etched with ancient runes, their meanings shifting in and out of comprehension like fragments of a forgotten tongue.

  Statues of Persephone herself were scattered throughout the garden, each carved with exquisite detail. In some, she was depicted as a radiant goddess of spring, her face serene and tender. In others, her visage was darker—cold, imperious, and wrathful, her eyes gleaming with the wisdom of a queen who had seen both the heights of life and the depths of despair. Her duality manifested in every inch of this place, where beauty and death danced in perpetual, harmonious tension.

  Butterflies, if they could be called that, flitted through the air—creatures of shadow and light, their wings seemingly woven from fragments of forgotten memories. When they passed too close, whispers brushed against the ear like fleeting echoes of old regrets and ancient joys. Beneath them, spectral fireflies hovered like tiny, flickering souls.

  The path wound deeper through gardens of mourning and renewal, past thorn-covered hedges that seemed alive with faint, agonized breathing. Small altars stood along the way, offerings of amber and pearl left by the dead in silent reverence to the queen who ruled both life and decay.

  At the garden’s center rose a giant tree, ancient beyond reckoning. Its trunk was as wide as a castle tower, its bark a blend of shadow and starlight, twisting and writhing as though imbued with the very essence of time. Its branches stretched endlessly upward, forming an interwoven canopy that both sheltered and entrapped. The fruit it bore was unlike any other—silver apples that shone with an otherworldly brilliance, rumored to grant visions or madness to those who dared taste them.

  At the base of the tree lay a circular stone dais, marked with an intricate mosaic that depicted Persephone's descent into the underworld and her return to the surface world in an eternal cycle. Flowers of every description surrounded the dais in perfect symmetry—a reflection of both life’s chaotic beauty and death’s inexorable order.

  As we stood there in awe, the oppressive majesty of the garden settled over us. It was as if every bloom, every whispering vine, and every glimmering petal bore the weight of eternity—a place of both unspeakable wonder and quiet horror. Here, life and death were not opposites, but reflections of the same truth: nothing lasts forever, yet nothing truly dies.

  This was Persephone’s realm, and it was as seductive as it was merciless.