Hadeia

I did not draw my chariot. Instead, I saddled a large, shadow-black, handsome mare. I remembered hearing from Ker that Atropos detested loud noises.

The three Moirai sisters did not reside in my palace. They claimed Cerberus’s barking disturbed their cutting hands. Understandably, they were merely the architects of death, not involved in its practicalities. 

Perhaps it was better for the sisters to gather quietly, spinning thread and cutting. Thus, they had built a small mansion on the edge of the wasteland between the Styx and the palace.

Mounting a horse after so long felt somewhat uncomfortable. Not because I was unskilled at riding. Perhaps it was the prejudice that the ruler of the Underworld should present an intimidating figure in a fearsome black chariot. Racing like a ghost to accommodate someone else seemed quite unfitting. But I had no choice.

When I rode forth, the main gate of the royal palace opened smoothly without a sound. Cerberus, who had been dozing with his heads resting on his front paws, jumped up at my presence, but I had no time to deal with him now. 

I lightly kicked the horse’s belly. Free from pulling a chariot for the first time in ages, the horse ran so lightly its hooves barely touched the ground.

After riding across the desolate plain for a short while, I spotted the Moirai’s mansion. It wasn’t difficult to find, situated beside a black willow tree bent over like it was suffering from stomach pain. 

Before entering the mansion, I dismounted. The horse then moved on its own to the tree trunk. Hades’ horses were intelligent enough to know where to wait without being tied. The black horse beneath the black willow looked just like a giant bird. 

Was this some kind of omen? I wasn’t accustomed to interpreting omens. After all, all prophecies and curses ultimately led to death.

I had to make sure.

Everything was my fault, and the suffering caused by it was the rightful punishment I deserved to bear. I was more foolish than a pig that tramples pearls without knowing their value. I would never forgive myself. 

But what about Persephius? He had courage and was sacrificed because of it. I pushed away his genuine feelings and ultimately encouraged him to erase them himself. It was all my responsibility. So the only compensation I could offer now was to confirm and protect his fate.

He was coming to the Underworld? He had to stay here?

I absolutely could not allow that!

The prophecy that Persephius would leap into death had been a constant source of anxiety for me, especially since he had helped me skip my fever. What if my illness had been transmitted to him? 

Though his memories were erased with the waters of forgetfulness, any disease residing in his body would remain. They say everything on the surface world is bright and warm, but if he came to the Underworld again and developed symptoms in a different way due to the poison and cold… I bit my lip.

If, as Demeter believed, he was racing toward death, I intended to stand in his way regardless of the cost. I would absolutely prevent him from setting foot in the Underworld. 

It didn’t matter whether he had eaten six pomegranate seeds or drunk all the rivers of my land. I was willing to lose my powers for violating the Underworld’s rules. 

Although he wouldn’t remember me and would never meet me again in the future, this was the only atonement I could offer.

The gate of the Moirai mansion was made of sandarac wood. Instead of knocking, I opened it and entered. As the ruler of the Underworld, I needed no one’s permission. 

The garden was tiny, with just a few asphodelos flowers swaying. They apparently had little interest in gardening. Well, nowhere was further from gardening than the Underworld.

I walked straight across. The walls and building were constructed of grayish stone speckled with black dots and silver fragments, a material that could be considered dry, but in the all-black Underworld, it was a sufficiently warm color.

The door was open.

“It’s been a long time, Lord Hades.”

“Clotho.”

The youngest sister, dressed in a grayish tunic, greeted me. Clotho, with her hair tied back with a blue string, looked as calm as ever.

“Where are your sisters?”

“In the living room. I’ll guide you.”

She didn’t ask the purpose of my visit, as if she had anticipated it all along. Then there was no need for me to speak first. I nodded and followed Clotho to the living room.

The interior was dark. But it wasn’t an ominous or anxious darkness; rather, it had an atmosphere that strangely calmed the mind, like the sky before a drizzle. 

The living room was moderately spacious. Long chairs and backless chairs were scattered in their own pattern of disorder, and the most noticeable piece of furniture was, naturally, a large spinning wheel.

“You’ve come.”

Atropos, holding copper scissors, said. She was sitting next to a basket filled with spools of thread, and she didn’t bother to stand up, nor did I command her to.

“I came because I have something to ask.”

“We expected as much.”

Atropos gave a bitter smile. What did that mean? I swallowed dryly.

The second sister, Lachesis, emerged from a small room beyond the living room and bent her knee in greeting. She was always taciturn.

“Lord Hades, please sit comfortably.”

Clotho offered a long chair. It was a seat with a thick tan-colored carpet. I shook my head.

“I only want to know one thing. I have no intention to argue, nor is this a situation for negotiation. So I’ll leave immediately after hearing one answer.”

Hearing my words, Atropos sighed. Then, placing her scissors on her knee, she began to listen to me.

I opened my mouth with the most indifferent expression I could manage.

“It’s about Demeter’s son.”

“You mean Persephone?”

“Yes.”

Just hearing that name made me feel like my insides were twisting. To maintain my pale mask, I had to steady my breathing.

“He says, and his mother says, that you made a prophecy when he was born.”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

Atropos answered readily.

“Although we couldn’t finish it. Demeter was so furious that we had to leave.”

I opened my lips. But my tongue seemed frozen with hesitation.

What did I really want to know?

About Persephius’s fate? About the final sentence of the prophecy that Demeter had driven away? About the six pomegranate seeds he had swallowed?

But did I have the right? I was neither Persephius’s mother nor his friend. He wouldn’t even remember my existence. Was it just to spy on his life using my privately held pain as an excuse? Was I here only to satisfy my own desires while he was on the verge of exile to h*ll?

It was then that Lachesis, who had always been in silence, stepped forward.

“Do you want to know the rest of the prophecy?”

I felt ashamed, like my secret desire had been exposed. But I was too miserable to save face by denying it.

Taking my silence as affirmation, Atropos nodded. And slowly, like singing a lullaby, she murmured:

“He will grow into a youth like spring and leap into dark death.”

The brief moment Atropos moistened her lips felt like an eternity to me.

“And he will become the torch in darkness, the lover of the recluse.”

I had always been clumsy with omens and prophecies. This time was no different. Even after hearing the other half of the prophecy, all I focused on was whether he would be safe, whether he might die from something he contracted in the Underworld. 

Yes, he would leap into death, but that wasn’t the end. “Will become” is quite different from “will die.”

Persephius would not die.

That was a relief. Just the thought seemed to somewhat alleviate the extreme anxiety that had been binding my limbs.

“You’re saying he won’t die?”

“That’s right. Of course, since he’ll be staying in the Underworld, those who live on the surface might see it differently.”

“I think I should send him back.”

My lips were dry. I spoke with a cracked voice.

Atropos shook her head.

“A torch finds no joy under the sun, my king. It only stands tall in darkness where its heat and beauty can shine. Isn’t that so?”

“He is like a narcissus. He needs fresh meadows and warm sunshine. This place doesn’t suit him.”

“The narcissus may be a fragile flower, but he is an unbreakable torch. He will never be happy in a flower garden. Don’t you know that?”

I had no words to counter. I wasn’t skilled at verbal disputes. Especially when the other party was right.

“So you’re saying he should remain in the Underworld? What is that if not a curse? To let him leap into dark death, I can’t face Demeter.”

Atropos nodded. Lachesis and Clotho did the same.

“If you had only heard the first part, you might misunderstand it as a curse. Just as Demeter did. But why would we curse Persephone? Especially one who will become the Despoina of the Underworld.”

“Despoina? You mean queen?”

I asked, somewhat dumbfounded.

Then Lachesis spoke again.

“The king’s companion is the queen. As you know.”