Daughter of the Timeless

Aflame

I let go of the flames. They disappear right back inside me. A circle is burnt around me where I stand. The dust and cob webs gone, but the rest still covering the edge of the room.

I can't sleep here. All alone, and up high. Not with that fog staring me in the face and the horses taunting me downstairs. I run down the stairs, and look back up at the top of the tower breaching the trees on the edge of the island. It stares back at me with a spooky skeleton glare. 

I walk in no particular direction, and I notice not even a mile out that I am heading towards the dark zone. The dead and barren part of the island. 

By morning I am a few miles away from it, and with a "what the hell" I speed into the Amazon run I can channel now. I am on the beach, facing the cliffs embankment that I first greeted when I arrived on the island. Something is different. The rock is falling more and more. Almost in an archway. 

I pry some off, slowly. An iron door way begins to develop in the cliff. As if the door was superheated itself, with a supernova on the other side, it flings open, scorching and drying the sand in front of the doorway. It turns into crystal glass.

The flames beckon to me. A humming is inside. A soft humming. Not at all evil like it first felt. 

I put my left hand in and feel a barely tickling sensation. I pull my arm back out and see and feel no change. I step in cautiously, and the flames stand behind me, but a dark rock tunnel with steps decline downward. Greeks and their stupid spirals. 

Flames shield the doorway behind me, and light the tunnel as I move ahead. 

I come to another doorway of flames. This one hurts as I step through. 

The humming is louder, and it is cheerful. Old greek oil sconces are layed about, covered in gold. Massive book shelves stand in the middle of the room. Paintings in gold frames line the black walls. 

I step around the book cases to see another massive archway, again, shielded with fire. After the last one hurting, I don't think I want to step through it. But I am tempted. I stretch my hand forward, but as I graze the torturous fire, it opens up to a black tunnel. 

More rooms with books, and gold fire sconces. Laying askew against the tunnel walls are skeletons pinned with swords. Cobwebs covering them. Their faces immortalized in horror. 

My feet won't stop moving down this tunnel. At the end is an identical room of the one I first entered. Am I going in a circle? Is this some weird greek god witchcraft?

"Dum, dee dum, dee dumm bummb dum." A booming voice sings. A clatter of bones seems to be moving to the beat. A slight twang of a stringed instrument about to die, and a drum that sounds like it barely gives off percussion at all.

I peak around, and see a big man, almost bigger than Grodd, sitting on a golden throne made of bones and skulls. He is wearing a gleaming suit of black armor, skeletons dancing and performing at his feet. Behind him is a cavernous expanse lit on fire to the left, and to the right a bright hazey fog, all separate by the pillar that his throne is seated on. The pillar is extended high above the library's floor level, a jankey scattered stone path leads up to where he is seated on his platformed throne.

Against all kinds of common sense and struggling inside, my body moves slowly toward the throne. Flying creatures, winged like hell bats glide along side me, scratching my feet. I wince at the pain, but I keep moving. It isn't like I can stop anyways.

I stand at the base of this throne in a circle of dancing and performing skeletons. The man on the throne still humming and singing, twirling his finger through the air.

I am released from the dark pull and allowed to move at will. One of the skeletons clatter forward with musical rattles made out of more bones, I poke at it when it gets too close. Not believing my eyes at any of this. It falls into a rolling pile. All movement stops. The flying creatures land with a hiss in front of the throne.

"It's about time someone heard the call. You know, I have been sitting still for two decades. Two! No Greek or hero deaths to be logged. All of them go elsewhere I suppose. Not being Greek and all." Says the man settling in his chair.

"Come forward young Amazon, let me get a good look at you."

"I'm technically not an Amazon." I say.

"That much is true. They know too well to go venturing on their own down here. Their fallen sisters in that secret tunnel you wandered down is a testament to that." 

"Who are you?" I ask.

"I am the forgotten secret. Locked away under Themyscira, the lonely and unwanted Greek God of the underworld." He says singsongy, looking away nonchalantly and picking at non-existent dirt from beneath his nails.

"Dearest, I am your Great Uncle, Hades." He says leaning forward mockingly, in unbelief.

I don't know whether to be thrilled, shocked, or terrified. This much is true, I must be on my guard against the Greek God of the Underworld.