Chapter 45

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Chapter 45


Six days and five nights elapsed before Samael and Erichthonius finally stood at the threshold of the demon realm. Their journey, fraught with peril and uncertainty, had brought them to the very gates of the underworld. Yet, their true test awaited them within the shadowed halls of the underworld palace, where Persephone, the queen of the realm, held sway over the fate of souls.

Unlike the splendor of Olympus or the tranquil depths of the ocean, the underworld pulsated with dark energy. Ghouls, remnants of those who had passed from the mortal realm, thronged its streets, their spectral forms a testament to the enduring nature of the afterlife.

Trapped within the confines of the underworld, these souls were bound by chains of fate, their every movement constrained by the relentless vigilance of the realm's guardians. Attempting to breach the barrier that encased the underworld meant certain destruction, condemning them to an eternity of torment.

Among the throngs of lost souls, Samael and Erichthonius witnessed the suffering of the damned. Criminals, their sins etched upon their spectral forms, wandered the streets in silent penance. Yet, mingled with the guilty were those whose only crime was the absence of fortune or influence, consigned to an existence devoid of hope and redemption.

"Are you awake yet?"

Samael slowly opened his eyes, his eyelashes fluttering as he glimpsed a familiar figure lying before him. His lips pursed as he willed himself to full wakefulness. "Where are we?" he murmured, rising to survey his surroundings.

"We're inside an inn," replied Erichthonius, the man beside him. "You fell asleep when the carriage stopped, so I carried you here into the underworld."

Samael grinned, rubbing his eyes. "Hmm, wasn't I heavy? You should have woken me."

He flinched as he felt a hand encircle his waist—a hand neither too large nor too small, fitting against him so perfectly that he couldn't push it away. Rolling his eyes, Samael turned to the young king. "Ugh, what do you want now?"

"Won't you kiss me?" The young king's plea hung in the air, his eyes beseeching. "After all, I did carry you here without disturbing your slumber. And, might I mean, you're quite beautiful when you sleep?"

Samael's expression darkened. This guy... How dare he manipulate me? He scrutinized Erichthonius for a moment before relenting with a resigned sigh. Wetting his lips, he slowly inclined his head, their lips meeting in a hesitant embrace.

As their kiss lingered for a fleeting moment, Samael withdrew, a frown marring his features as he regarded Erichthonius's expectant gaze. "Are you satisfied yet?"

The response came in a dissatisfied murmur: "No."

"Enough," Samael snapped, his tone sharp. "We have pressing matters to attend to today; I cannot afford to appear limping in front of Persephone."

"Fine, I won't," Erichthonius replied with a small smile.

Resisting the urge to throttle his husband for his persistent advances, Samael changed into fresh attire with Erichthonius's assistance, their banter punctuated by playful jabs. Exiting the inn, they were met by the eerie throng of the underworld.

Unlike the opulent Olympus or the serene Ocean, the underworld bore a semblance of humanity, populated by the souls of mortals and denizens of Olympus alike. Adjusting his cloak, Samael blended into the crowd, his hand intertwined with that of the young king's, their journey through the underworld's bustling streets commencing amidst a backdrop of spectral existence.

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