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“Where do the… dead people live then?
“The souls,” she corrected, “live in different regions of the Underworld depending on the life they lived. Other immortals reside in this realm as well, not all because this is their afterlife, but because this is where they can truly be themselves. Some work for me.”
“Like Thanatos?” he asked. “And the silver-haired woman?”
Persephone smiled at the mention of her friends. “Yes, they have homes near the castle.”
“And,” Persephone continued as she guided him through the halls, “they help me run the realm. The Underworld is the only place for souls to rest and not all of them are guilty of a sinful life.”
“Respectfully, Goddess,” Devon said, “that is not my experience.”
Persephone nodded.
“A true, pure soul that has committed no wrong doing is rare,” she conceded. “But I’ve seen the lives and deaths of billions of mortals, and it is even more rare to find one wholly unworthy of forgiveness and fair judgement.”
Devon was quiet at that.
She took him to one of her favorite places in her home, a secluded balcony that overlooked one of the highest points in the realm. Persephone stepped out onto the narrow ledge and beckoned Devon to follow. “Come see for yourself.”
When Devon joined her, Persephone splayed out her arms at the land below. The crimson sky cast a warm light over the landscape. From this vantage point, they could see rolling hills and rockier, darker mountains.
“We have different areas for different souls,” she told him, “Immortals and lower Gods ensure that, had the souls committed a crime in life, their punishment fits the crime.”
She pointed towards the mountains. “Beyond those peaks, there are the Fields of Punishment, where souls with the darkest stains face consequence.”
She watched him as she spoke, his eyes narrowed and his head tilted as he took in the words that must have differed from the stories and fables of his childhood.
“If a soul has led a good life,” she continued, “Then they are not met with any trials here in the afterlife. They will be judged worthy of living in the blessed land, the Elysian Fields. They will not remember their human lives. For some, that is the only true peace they have. In order for that to happen, they drink from the River Lethe. The only way to restore their memories is to drink from the counterpart, the Pool of Memories, but the Titan who watches over it calls for a debt. Those debts are never worth it,” she stated matter-of-factly, her hands clasped in front of her. Her body language saying nothing of what she felt or thought.
He watched her, and she was sure he would ask about a loved one, as they always did. People never seemed to truly understand that the person they lost to death would not remember the person they were in life.
Mortals always thought no matter what power was at work, their loved one would overcome it and remember them. The hurt when they realized that person no longer held memories of them, the ones they made and the life they lived, was incredibly sad to watch.
Devon took a deep breath. Persephone had taken him to the balcony to assuage the shock of being in a place so different from what he knew, but she could see the light of a thousand thoughts flashing through his eyes.
“Forgetting,” he murmured. “That does sound like a reward.”
Persephone remained still. “Immortals cannot drink from the River Lethe,” she warned stiffly. “It is forbidden for anyone who is not bestowed the final gift.”
He hummed thoughtfully. “And so, no heaven? No hell? Just fields and rivers? Remembering and forgetting?” He looked away from the landscape and drilled his gaze into hers. “Just you, Goddess?”
She nodded. “Just me.” And wasn’t that the lonely truth?
Chapter 6
Devon followed Persephone as they worked their way through the gothic, winding hallways. Sconces that held fire as blue as the crown the Goddess wore were lit along their way. The hellhound plodded loudly behind them as they walked, taking inventory by sniffing every nook and cranny like a typical dog would in the mortal realm.
She halted abruptly in front of a door. Had he not been aware of his surroundings instinctively, he might have run right into her. He watched as she put her hand to the door’s center instead of on the knob to turn it.
“What is your favorite memory from your childhood? One untouched by the pain you felt in the mortal realm,” Persephone quietly asked as she peered over her shoulder to him. The question took him completely off guard.
Devon was so busy taking in the details of the castle as they walked, trying to remember the way should he need an escape plan, that her question made him reroute his train of thought.
However, the memory he tried to keep untouched by the darkness popped up into his head unbidden. When he had the fortitude to push past all the gloom and find that inner light, the memory was as alive and colorful as it had been when he lived it. Devon hesitated to give too much of himself. Right now, she represented everything he was fighting against and what he needed to escape from.
Unfortunately for him, she seemed to have unlimited patience and hardly seemed irritated at his delayed response.
Finally giving in to their little stare-off, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. She probably did know everything after her time in his mind earlier, so there was no point withholding that precious memory.
