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13
Kore
A week passes without sight of Hades, a week that feels like the longest day lived. The Underworld doesn’t possess a sun or moon. No sunrise. No sunset. The Underworld is a never-ending realm of darkness. A black sky that’s a void, without a single star twinkling in the inky expanse.
Kore receives his belongings from his mother at the start of this dark day. A box of the few things he left behind—clothing, a backpack of books, and his silken pouch of kush. Kore releases a huff of a laugh—a wooden sound—as he lifts a letter from the bottom of the box.
Persephone—written in his mother’s perfect script across the front and her green sealing wax—holds the letter closed. A lone piece of wheat shaped in the grass-green wax causes his pulse to quicken with apprehension.
The letter comes across as imperious, true to his mother’s constant tone.
Persephone,
Here are your things. I sent them since you appear determined to stay in that gloomy realm with the Queen of Corpses. You will know misery there. A world without light is not for you. Eternal darkness will kill you, as you are a child of flowers and spring. When you are ready to return to the land of the living, you know where to find me. If you grovel, I will allow you to resume your duties at my side. I will even tell the rest of Olympus who you are if that is your wish.
Hades will not love you. She is a vile excuse for a woman. A mother of stolen children, as you’ll soon see, and it seems you are her new victim.
Do not be fooled, Persephone.
-Your Only Mother
Kore folds the expensive stationery, closing it with a bitter scowl. He spends a few minutes debating throwing her missive into the fire. Crimson flames dance in the hearth of his room, casting an angry glow over the dark surfaces of his furniture, and Kore finds the imagery fitting for his mood. Burning Demeter’s letter would prove that Kore’s bothered, and he’s not ready to disappoint himself more.
“Shit,” Kore says, sitting on the black comforter that covers his large bed. He hangs his head while rubbing his forehead with his fingers.
Kore doesn’t want to go home, but this world feels like an endless abyss of nothing. The place is too silent, too dark, and too empty for him to distract himself. In Olympus, Kore distracted himself from his self-loathing by growing kush, teaching at Hestia’s school, going to class, and growing a wild garden for Hera to annoy Zeus. Here all he has is quiet and his thoughts—two things that always fill Kore with discomfort.
Kore eyes the beautifully embroidered silk pouch. “Fuck it,” he says, opening the bag and pulling out one of the cones he pre-rolled.
You may do as you please, Hades told Kore, when they arrived in the middle of a throne room carved out of obsidian.
He thinks about Hades while he lies back on his bed, smoking the last of his joint. His mind lingers on the cold way she glanced at him. Those eyes are the same smoky color as the cloud he exhales, and just as intoxicating. The less of his wife he sees, the more Kore desires her.
Want is a strange emotion for Kore—a burning need that crushes his lungs with each breath. HecravesHades. Kore’s starved for a meal he’s never sampled. As he lies in bed, staring up at the intricate ceiling, his cock stirs. Kore curls his fingers into a tight first, willing his enthusiasm away, but lust persists. Whispering against his senses, the phantom of Hades torments him. Her cool skin against the hot flesh of his cheek. He inhaled her scent as she drew them back to the Underworld, that bouquet of blood orange, spicy lily, and bergamot that mingles with a hint of musk. Kore recalls fighting the impulse to bury his face in the crook of her lovely neck. He remembers the taste of her words between them; the flavor of a winter morning, the surprise of the first snowflake melting on an eager tongue.
Fuck.
Kore sits up as he takes in a final hit. He releases a pungent cloud of smoke before he murmurs, “I want to take a walk.” The cure for all ails is found during a walk.
* * *
Everythingin the Underworld reflects darkness. From the ceilings to the floors, the palace is blacker than the deepest night. However, it’s the lack of living beings that drive home the emptiness of Hades' realm—no dryads, nymphs, or lesser gods milling about the halls. The souls don’t wander the corridors; they lie at the bottom of rivers, dreaming whatever souls dream when dead.
Kore strolls with leisure.
A strange, peaceful feeling settles over him as he explores the castle. He’s learning to find comfort in his unsettling surroundings.
During his first days here, Kore roamed the empty halls with despair clawing at his senses. Between the emptiness and the lack of sun or moon, Kore often feels as if he’s the only creature in existence here. On his first day, he ran through the halls screaming after he walked for hours but his scenery remained unchanged. Trapped in an endless night, Kore felt like he was stuck in a bad trip where time ceased. Nothing moved forward, or so he believed. Kore found his surroundings easier to accept when he discovered the large clock in the throne room’s antechamber. The presence of that massive timepiece soothed him, and Kore breathed out in relief.
Now, Kore knows the days change due to themanyclocks that Hades has in each room.Tick. Tick. Tick.The seconds passing a constant comfort, reminding Kore that he isn’t trapped in an infinite moment.
Today, his tenth day, Kore ventures outside of the palace. He discovers no guard at the door. Kore finds the lack of sentinels odd. Zeus always has dozens of guards on rotation. Hades fears no visitor, it seems. Her doors open to those brave enough to enter. A smile blooms on Kore’s face as he walks alongside one of five winding rivers, his mind on Hades and her fearlessness.
Charon, the legendary ferryman, is nowhere to be found. Kore puzzles at the lack of vessel, and wonders if he’s gone to bring another soul home. Or, perhaps, that soul will remain standing on the shores because it lacks the gold to pay. Kore has zero knowledge of the Underworld’s inner-workings. He’s a useless trinket left in the dark, a pretty thing Hades took for show but has no desire to use.
Kore releases a sigh. He knew what he signed up for when he declared himself to Hades. Yet, even Demeter—the mother who hates him—found uses for Kore in her world. These are the thoughts that plague Kore as he crests a dark hill.
He’s far enough from the towering black spires of Hades' castle now that he cannot make out the palace in the distance. Here the air is different, shifting and warm with an odd scent—one Kore knows but cannot place.
