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Hades turned, fists clenched. He had lost all patience. “I have never asked you for anything in your life,” he said.
Hypnos averted his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest as Hades continued.
“But I come to you now because my future wife, my queen, is terrorized every time she closes her eyes, and all you care about is whether the reward is worthy of your time. Have you forgotten what it is like to watch the one you love suffer?”
“At least you can witness her suffering,” Hypnos snapped. “I have not seen my wife since I was sentenced to this hell!”
Hypnos’s wife was named Pasithea. She was one of the Charites, sometimes called Graces. She had been given to him in marriage by Hera, and while he had been lucky that he had not lost her completely, in the aftermath of his betrayal of Zeus, he was separated from her forever.
“Perhaps that would have changed had you agreed to help me.”
“You wish to shame me for refusing you, yet you dangle the promise of my wife before me as if that is not cruel.”
“You had a chance at mercy,” Hades replied.
Hypnos glared, but Hades had nothing more to say. He had not wanted to present the God of Sleep with a gift at all in exchange for his help, but that did not mean the one he’d chosen did not have great significance.
“Wait,” Hypnos said, though it was almost a shout. Hades heard him scrambling and slipping down the rocky path. He ran in front of Hades, arms pushed out as if to stop him. His expression had changed, less angry and far more desperate. “Wait, please. I’ll…I’ll help. Just please…let me see Pasithea.”
Hades studied the god, and after a moment, he extended his hand, palm up, where magic swirled. A crystal bloom formed there, and it glinted, even in the muted darkness.
“Have you tricked me?” Hypnos asked.
Hades picked up the bloom by the stem. The center glowed with warm light, like the rays of dawn spilling over a dark horizon.
“Look into its light,” he said, holding it up between them.
Hypnos glanced at him, wary, but did as he said and soon grasped his hand, tightening his fingers around the brittle stem.
“Pasithea,” he whispered fervently. His mouth quivered, and his eyes glistened.
“You may look through that flower at any point to see her,” Hades said, pulling his hands from beneath Hypnos’s so the god could hold the flower himself. Heaverted his eyes, feeling as though he were intruding on a too-private moment.
After a moment, Hypnos took a breath that drew Hades’s attention, and when he met the god’s gaze, he had managed to compose himself.
“I will see your Persephone,” Hypnos said.
Hades took Hypnos to his castle, to the bedroom he shared with Persephone. He had no idea if that was necessary, but it seemed right that he visited the space where she dreamed.
Within the dark space, Hypnos looked like a bright light, glowing in white robes and gold. He took a few steps forward from where they had manifested, his eyes roving.
“How is it for you,” said Hypnos, “when she dreams?”
“She struggles beside me. It’s how I know she’s facing her attacker again, and when I touch her…” Hades paused a moment, a sour taste entering his mouth as he recalled how her fear had made thorns split her skin. “She doesn’t know it’s me.”
“Do you know the difference between my touch and his?” he had asked.
“When I am awake,” she had said.
He swallowed hard. He did not think he would ever forget that night or her words.
“Hmm,” Hypnos said, scanning the room. “Is it always this dark in here?”
“You live in acave,” Hades countered. “Who are you to call this dark?”
The door opened, and Hades turned to seePersephone enter the room. She startled, her eyes widening as she paused in the entryway, eyes sliding from him to Hypnos, who had twisted to look at her from where he observed the room.
“Hello,” she said, though it sounded more like a question. She closed the door. “Am I…interrupting something?”
