DESCENT
(noun) /dəˈsent/
:an action of moving downward, dropping, or falling
...or
:a moral, social, or psychological decline into a specified undesirable state.
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. . .
"Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me."
. . .
Thunder boomed in the distance, like muffled roars of outrage—it was a sound that she hated ever since she was a child, too small and too naive to understand—as though Zeus, the lord of skies himself had known about her existence all along and was already prepared to smite her from his throne way up high in Olympus.
Wouldn't be the first time he tried. In fact, Winters would be most grateful if her lord uncle did just that right now so... why not now?
Slowly, she peeled open her eyes with much difficulty, the sudden flash of lightning overhead making her wince, momentarily frightening her. A beat after, when the sound of heavy raindrops and booming thunder began to recede, she realized she was chained against a cold wall of polished stone: the bindings silver-gray, cold, and painful around her already bruised wrists and ankles... staring face to face with a furious, pale face that somehow, in some way, eerily resembled her own.
For a moment, she closed her eyes, releasing a shaky breath, before opening them again, half-hoping that this was some sort of fever dream or worse, a nightmare.
Somehow her younger half-brother, William, had managed to summon the King of the Underworld, God of the dead—Hades.
...her father.
Pain churned inside her broken body, so much so that every taken breath hurts while every single bone within her limbs had been shattered beyond repair, she couldn't even lift a finger... never had she imagined such agony could be bestowed upon a half-god, half-human and have them live through it.
"You have a lot of nerve to bring this impudent one into my temple..." Winters can hear Hades grumbling to her brother, his powerful voice low and familiar, bringing goosebumps to her skin, "...and even dared to summon me to your realm? You must wish to die so badly, little one."
William—only twelve years old, with her blood marring his porcelain pale skin—angrily retorted: "What else would you do then? Punish me or my sister for it? Torture us to your heart's content? Do it! We have already endured so much because of you without your help!"
The god's eyes glinted ominously.
"Oh?" Hades drawled threateningly as he easily loomed over the boy with his towering figure, "So you do wish to die."
With all the naivety of a little boy, William pursed his lips, glaring up at the towering figure of the god as though he was already planning to pounce just to land a punch on Hades. Winters struggled to speak, forcing herself to stay awake for William's sake. They just lost Winona; she didn't want to lose him too, "No, d–don't... don't hurt him, please... he's just a child! It's my fault. It's all my fault...!"
