When Loki's consort and soulmate marries his rival to save their son from a curse, a prophecy leads to consequences even the God of Chaos couldn't predict.
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The Unseelie Goddess of War's revenge against Asgard's Dark Prince puts him in a no-win s...
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Up at first light, we hiked out of the green gardens and away from the well-clothed, happy souls of Elysium, across a white stone bridge guarded by a tall god with tree branches for limbs and snakes coiled about his shoulders, back through the Slums of Undistinguished Dead, until we reached the bridge over the River Lethe and Hall of Judgement almost four hours later.
Lines of souls waited in queues that wove back and forth like a Disneyworld ride within the longhouse-style wooden building, yet I doubted a fun, eight-minute ride awaited them at the end. Near the far side, a fire burned and pitchers of drinks were set out with mugs.
"We don't have to wait," Baldur said, directing us to another door labelled 'INFERNALS', away from the crowded lines of souls.
He pushed through the matte black door, and a long dark hallway stretched ahead. Dimly lit, it had a hushed quality to it. Once we reached the other end, Baldur shoved the door open, and we exited into shrouded sunlight. Fog crept along the ground, clinging to us with the tenacity of fingers clawing their way out of a grave. Using a little burst of power, I pushed it away, not liking the unnatural brush of it on my skin, and I rubbed my hands over my arms to chase the prickling sensation away.
On either side, the imposing obsidian walls of the city abutted the edge of the building we'd just left and continued as far as I could see. Nagrindr, the Corpse-Fence, Baldur had called it, and skeletons of the fallen were piled against it in a grey-white contrast to the gleaming, unrelenting black. Because that wasn't ominous at all, paired with the creepy fog. If this was Hades' doing, he certainly had the flair for the dramatic.
The city itself was entirely built from black obsidian. Every tall building. Every narrow street. A copper scent lingered in the air, along with the undertone of decay. But it wasn't the souls still with some form of quasi-life to them, those few walking around at a hurried pace. No, it was the souls that had been torn from their afterlife here in Helheim. Those that fell to the predators and ended up as bones at the base of the wall.
Loki had warned that this place was dangerous.
But what were those predators, exactly? More hellhounds? Something worse? How many souls did it take to support a population of predators within the city? I didn't like the answer my mind provided based on the height and depth of those bones and the amount of scent in the chilly air.
Eyes followed us.
Nothing obvious, as there were none to make eye contact with as we moved through the streets towards Hades' palace. Instead, they skulked in the deep shadows of black buildings and narrow alleys. We were being observed as the denizens of the city tried to decide if we would be joining those at the base of the walls, or if we'd be strong enough to fight.
