The Underworld Trials (⚢)

Forgotten

The next few days have me stumbling around Persephone, unsure of every move I make and every word I speak.

I've started to notice little things about her. The way her warm skin seems to naturally smell of honeysuckle and mint. How her eyes shift, full gardens blooming and growing in her irises. This celestial creature made of sea and stars leaves my heart stuttering in my chest, and the realisation scares me.

Waking in the morning, with rays of an artificial sun peeking through the curtains, my mind jumps to her. The one responsible for the small patch of light in this dark place. The elegant surroundings don't even register with me when her face fills my mind, and I try each morning to tug the covers back over my face, hoping the dark will erase her from my thoughts.

This morning, like the few before, my attempts are futile, so I eventually pull myself from the warmth of the silk sheets to start my day.

My clothes are folded on the bedside table, freshly washed as they are every time I wake. I pull my cotton shirt over my head, musing on the fact that at least I don't have to stink while I'm here. I tug on my jeans and lace up my boots, ready to cause mischief.

The empty halls of the palace are eerily silent today, holding their breath in anticipation of something I can't see. The noise of my shoes bounces off the walls, echoing, and I find myself holding my breath with the Underworld.

My head whips to the left when I hear wind whooshing through a side hallway. The hall narrows to a pinpoint of darkness, and I can't see what lies in wait at the end. My feet start to move on their own as my fingers flit to the hilt of my sword.

I cock my head, listening to the sound of wind. Or is it breathing? My heartbeat is steady as my mind clears, ready to attack.

Each step down the corridor seems to grow longer, and the walls tunnel in around me. I draw my sword as I reach the end, where a simple black door greets me. I reach a hand out to turn the knob, feeling the metal vibrate under my touch.

I swing the door open, sword dipping towards the ground in shock from the sight before me. A giant meadow, shrouded in a low-hanging mist, stretches out before me, further than any eye could see.

Figures, cloaked in grey stand amidst asphodel flowers and tall dead grass, glowing and faceless. Each is humanoid, but blurred, and every soul is identical. Horror flashes through my veins as I realise that each person who died and was sent to the Asphodel Meadows essentially ceases to exist.

I back up, feet tangling in blades of grass as I bump into wandering spirits. I can't keep myself from wondering if any of my friends are here, or if they will be. I reel, turning to sprint, until the asphodel flowers shift to poppies.