The Seeds of Wrath

Preface

Put the book down now.

What is within this book is not for the faint of heart and should be kept a secret from the everyday populace. There are secrets to an unknown world here and this book is the only thing keeping our world safe.

For centuries, we have heard many stories and legends about what happens after we die. In ancient Egypt, the people believed that the soul continued to the Duat. In the North of Scandinavia, the legends of Niflheim and Valhalla were well known. Many stories, many experiences.

Of all the myths, legends, and stories, those taught the most widely are those of the Greeks, where the dead travel to the Underworld to be given their just rewards or their just punishment. This is where our story begins.

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Lurking in the Shadows of the Underworld...
Lit only by the light of a single torch, the cavern seemed to go on forever. Quick, cautious footsteps tapped at the stone ground, a figure only appearing seemingly from out of nowhere and beginning the journey through the long hallway. In the long, dark hallway, the walls were barren and cracked as if time had withered away at them for centuries. A faint sound of dripping water echoed and pinged at seemingly random. The hooded stranger paused only once to listen for any unwanted visitors, deciding that the scuttling was only a rat that had found it's way to the dungeons of the castle.

When they got to the end of the hallway, a room opened around them. The room was a large circular cavern with a rock formation sharply pointing down from the middle of the ceiling like a dagger. Lit only by the few torches that glowed green heavenly fire, the room was completely devoid of life. On the other side of the room, taking up the entirety of the opposite wall, were a pair of black gates, lit ominously by the green coloring. Made of a black stone, the gates remained closed, but a whisping grey smoke began to seep through the bottom of the doors, a cacophony of whispers rising in the wind. Some of the voices wailed in sorrow, some roared in dismay and others sounded as hollow as a dead tree. Only one of the voices was discernable in the tumult, as smooth as a sanded stone that had been washed to the riverbank.
"Thanatos, my friend," the resonant voice spoke, the grey smoke encircling the hooded figure, "I had the feeling I would be seeing you again. Have you done as I asked, my greatest friend?" The air began to shimmer expectantly, the temperature plummeting within seconds. The stranger let loose a shiver, only then lowering the cowl of his hood.

Thanatos was a thin man, his skin olive-toned and his face adorned with a faint goatee. In the light, his face seemed almost pale from fear. His eyes were as black as the night outside, dark circles sinking them further into his face. His hair was thick, tightly curling in coils in black masses atop his head in a sloppily put-together bun. He spoke, his voice silky and appeasing, "Yes, My Lord. I sent the girl back to the Mortal Plane. Are you completely sure that Hades won't notice my meddling in his affairs?" He bowed down to the ground, planting his forehead against the rubble at his feet. He waited with bated breath for the answer of the prisoner behind Tartarus' Gates.

"You doubt my ability to hide our affairs from your employer? I am nothing if not a man of my word, Thanatos. Yes, I am completely sure of it. Now we must only wait for the girl to arrive. It has been foretold, after all. The Fates have not withheld my ability to see into the future, much to my reprieve. You have done well, my friend. Now you may go and relax. When Aeteia arrives, bring her to me alive."
Thanatos only looked up to the door now, a frown marring his beautiful features. His eyes flickered up and down the gate, his eyebrows pulling together in worry. "And...and what if-if she finds Hades before I find her?"

The silence was muffling, the lack of response worrying Thanatos that the old God had begun to ignore him. He pulled himself from the bow, sitting on his knees and staring at the door. After waiting for what felt like an eternity, he stood up from his knees, about to step away from the gates.

"If that happens, then you can kill her." He jumped when the old God spoke again, his heart racing in his ears as he recognized what had been said. He turned back to the gate, a million more questions rising in his mind.

"I wish to be left alone, now, if you don't mind." The Nameless God rumbled, the smoke beginning to fade away finally. The green flames of the torches around the room flickered violently as if wanting to jump from their posts.

Thanatos stared at the gate, his many questions swirling in his mind; he raised a hand in front of him, just an inch from his palm resting on the gate. All the smoke in the room suddenly reacted; a figure formed from the smoke right behind him, giving him a resolute shove in the direction of the gate.
The moment that his fingertips touched the gate, Thanatos' fingers began to look as if they'd been encased with silver. Pulling them back quickly, Thanatos clutched his hand, which felt as if it had been partially encased with liquid silver. He groaned in pain, falling to his knees. "My lord! My Lord, help me! It hurts!"

Tears streamed down his cheeks as he clutched his hand to his chest, rocking back and forth to assuage the pain. He looked back up to the gate, which had sustained no injury whatsoever. His hand still stinging, he looked at the member of his body. The last three fingers of his right hand seemed to move still, yet it hurt some. The fingers were forever scarred with blackened silver material, burning down the side of his hand and the right side of the top of his hand. His palm was partially burning silver as well.
By the time he was able to pull himself together, though, the smoke figure had vanished. Thanatos reached into his cape, extracting a pair of black gloves. Putting them on, he looked around the corridor one last time before he hurried from the forbidden area, only one question left in his mind.

How was he supposed to get back?