No Going Back

There are some things in this world that cannot be explained. Most of these things are completely invisible to the human race, which is, in very many cases, a wonderful thing. A lot of mortals disregard most abnormal activities as supernatural or paranormal activities and wave them off without another thought. However, these things are very very real. And I am part of that world.

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Very few mortals are able to venture into the shadow realm and make it out alive. It is a very common thing to see one of the humani wandering around the fields of Asphodel in a daze. Usually they are attacked by the harpies before they have the chance to collect their barrings and try to find a way out, otherwise the hellhounds get to them.

Most of the time I get word of these happenings from my messenger, a large black crow named Kane. I found him when we were both young, trapped in Tartarus with one wing badly injured. I brought him back to the palace and nursed him back to health, all the while training him to only respond to my commands and teaching him the language of Death, only known by myself, my father and now Kane.

He has been my closest friend and trusted pet since then, and I am glad for his company seeing as it gets horribly lonely down here. Most of my childhood was spent wandering around the underworld, waiting for my father to come home or for Hades to give me a small task. At the time I was the only child living in the underworld, which called for long periods of time for me to just keep to myself and think. Most of the time I was in the forges or in the fields of Asphodel waiting for my father to call for me.

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Now, I am almost 2,000 years old and the world has remained at peace since before my time, but now things are changing. The demon gates have opened and the world is being overrun by madness and chaos. I have spent years of my life fighting and training in only the most complex and dangerous forms of combat, making now my time to fight and return the world of the humani to it's usual calm, just as my father had done millennia ago.

Years prior, my father had given me the gift of a form shifting weapon only those directly related to Thanatos himself could wield. If any other tried to use it, pick it up even, the blade would simply fight back. I chose the true form to take on that of a scythe, and for it to shift to any small item I could carry on myself. There are only two blades of the kind and only three people able to use them properly, without slicing themselves to bits. Those three people consist of Hades, my father Thanatos, and myself.

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"Hazel Blazeman, get your highly trained no good ass down here this instant and CONTROL YOUR DAMN BLADE!" A deep booming voice echoed down the corridors of the obsidian palace. This commanding voice belongs to none other than my father, Thanatos God of the Dead, and when he yells for you to get your highly trained no good ass down there you run like hellhounds are on your tail and gaining with every step. Which is exactly what I did, so in a matter of seconds I was in the foyer slapping the scythe onto my wrist in bracelet form.

My father had his back turned to me so I could see the large quiver of endless arrows strapped to his back, along with his bow slung over his shoulder. He had always preferred standing back and keeping distance between himself and his opponent, while I always liked to deal in hand to hand combat. His foot was tapping restlessly on the cool obsidian floors and the fireplace crackled with Greek fire, something that has the potential to burn the entire house down but is kept in check by a series of powerful wards and spells of confinement.

He had obviously heard me come into the room, or if he hadn't he could feel my presence. I stood waiting for him to say something about my recklessness with my weapon but he just continued tapping away. After a rather long and very awkward silence I cleared my throat and stepped closer to tap his shoulder. He snapped around to face me, which made me jump back and let out a disgruntled yelp.

He stood at a startling 8'9", his jet black hair combed back and tied at the base of his neck with a small silver band. His dark violet eyes were rimmed with a small amount of black kohl. He was certainly handsome, and most of the minor goddesses had come to him as possible suitors, although he turned all of them down.

Today he was dressed in his usual attire, consisting of a long sleeved black shirt, black and grey cammo pants, combat boots and an obsidian breast plate.

His eyes lightned when he saw me and a smile spread across his face, making his laugh lines more pronounced. He was a happy person, always making jokes and laughing, even for being the God of the Dead. Thanatos opened his arms in greeting and knelt down so that the difference between our height wasn't so great.