Hell Is An Empty Body (Book Two of The Triple Moon's Chronicles)

13 | The Heroine Of His Daydreams

    The sable black horse of Hades cantered out the flames of hell through the mortal world, breaking the ground under its mighty hoofs and crushing to dust everything on its path with no mercy.

Where it took a clever Sisyphus a month and a walking Alcaeus two months, Hades made it in one day.

His anger towards Sisyphus, balanced with his undying love for Persephone, fueled his incredible speed. Nothing could have stopped him in his pursuit of justice.

Earthshaking was Hades' arrival, as his faithful horse kicked to smash Sisyphus' wooden gates into a thousand pieces. When he rode into the palace, Hades instantly extinguished the flames of every torch. The mortal estate was now immersed in darkness, with only the moonlight offering its dim brightness. Only then did Hades step down from his horse and walk towards his victim.

Sisyphus was suspiciously quiet, sitting on his throne and only staring down at his armoured guest. Maybe he was rehearsing in his head, or perhaps he was measuring the weight of each sentence he would use. As experienced as he was, Sisyphus had never tricked someone of this calibre before.

Since he was back, Sisyphus spent all his time in bed. He was with Merope, the fabled golden manacles fastened to her, and the only reason he would take a break from her body was to sate his other appetite for the delectable food that his cook had prepared and handed to him. All the while, he waited for the best servants in his kingdom to sew for him the most expensive gown that no mortal had ever worn. Audacious was the disguise he sought from them, as it came with large pockets stuffed with wool that would make him appear corpulent and a powdered wig to make his hair look grey.

And this was how he now presented himself to Hades, as though his deal with the devil and his death had never occurred. Just as Thanatos had expected, Hades, in his dark metal attire, politely asked Sisyphus if he might come with him.

"Miserable little shadow, lost to the darkness of your sins, you have brought suffering and torments to your kind. My name is Hades, Ruler of the Departed; I had travelled into your world and I am here now to summon your damned soul back into the underworld."

But in response to the demand, Sisyphus just crossed his legs and whistled. This clear, high-pitched sound caused Hades to frown on his face and that was when Sisyphus ceased his pleasantry and shrugged his shoulders. "Don't you have the courtesy to allow me one last dying wish, my lord?"

No one ever requested a favour for Hades so close to their time, but he took the insult with composure. After clearing his throat, Hades declared, "In light of the seriousness of your actions, you shall receive no wish."

A laugh boomed out of Sisyphus' mouth. "I failed to see your point here. My actions were so bad for you not to grant me one simple wish, but you travelled all this way to take my soul. How is that fair?"

On this last argument, Sisyphus leaned back in his seat, his hands now joined to form a steeple, with a smirk slowly etching a path across his face. Once provoked, Hades only removed his helm and put it on his horse to reveal his bare face to him.

"I'm listening."

It was a first victory for Sisyphus, who had well done his homework about this king, and he knew exactly how much he valued impartiality more than anything else.

"I never had such a guest of your honour before." Letting out a gasp, Sisyphus rubbed his chin with his fingers. "Well, my last wish is simple: I only want you to visit my estate."

To the offer, Hades pressed his lips together into a white slash, a new gash of irritation that turned into a sea of darkness, swallowing every wall and tarnishing every wealth to make them dull to the eyes. This indelible ink seeped further and deeper, drowning out every single sound and every smell, until Hades remained like an empty shell of himself.

This was the extent of his hatred for this prison—the mortal world.

In his pain, Hades was a dead man, with his arms hanging on each side of his body. His hand fell over something—another thing that called for Persephone. She was such an enlightenment to his world, the remedy to release powerful fantasies into his mind—the heroine of his daydreams.

"Let's start this way!" Sisyphus spread out his arms, with shining cheeks, over Hades' discomfort. He leaped out of his throne to lead his guest into his treasure room, where he had meticulously arranged a cascade of different man-made inventions across a long table. Among them was the golden manacle glowing in the dark.