DESCENT I

. . .

“Death, be not proud, though some have called thee

Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;

For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow

Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.”

. . .

Thunder boomed in the distance.

They were like muffled roars of outrage—it was a sound that she hated ever since she was a child, too small and too naïve to understand—as though Zeus, the lord of skies himself had known about her existence all along and was already prepared to smite her from his throne way up high in Olympus.

Wouldn't be the first time he tried. In fact, Winters would be most grateful if her lord uncle did just that right now so… why not kill her now?

Slowly, she peeled open her eyes with much difficulty, the sudden flash of lightning overhead making her wince, momentarily frightening her.

A beat after, when the sound of heavy raindrops and booming thunder began to grow more tolerable, she realized she was chained against a cold wall of polished stone. The bindings were a silver-gray, cold, and painful around her already bruised wrists and ankles… before she found herself staring face to face with a furious, pale face that somehow, in some way, eerily resembled her own.

For a moment, she closed her eyes, releasing a shaky breath, before opening them again, half-hoping that this was some sort of fever dream or worse, a nightmare.

Because somehow, in some way, her younger half-brother, William, had managed to summon the King of the Underworld, God of the dead—Hades.

...her father.

Pain churned inside her broken body, so much so that every taken breath hurts while every single bone within her limbs had been shattered beyond repair, she couldn't even lift a finger... never had she imagined such agony could be bestowed upon a half-god, half-human and have them live through it.

“You have a lot of nerve to bring this impudent one into my temple…” Winters can hear Hades grumbling to her brother, his powerful voice low and somewhat familiar, bringing goose bumps to her skin, “...and even dared to summon me to your realm? You must wish to die so badly, little one.”

William—only twelve years old, with her blood marring his porcelain pale skin—angrily retorted: “What else would you do then? Punish me or my sister for it? Torture us to your heart's content? Do it! We have already endured so much because of you without your help!”

The god's eyes glinted ominously. “...Oh?” Hades drawled threateningly as he easily loomed over the boy with his towering figure, “So you do wish to die.”

With all the naivety of a little boy, William pursed his lips, glaring up at the towering figure of the god as though he was already planning to pounce just to land a punch on Hades. Winters struggled to speak, forcing herself to stay awake for William's sake.

They just lost Winona; she didn't want to lose him too! “No, d–don't... don't hurt him, please... he's just a child! It's my fault. It's all my fault...!”

But her desperate shouts were drowned out by a rumbling boom and remained as a silent prayer, completely unheard by the only god present. The temple of Hades was found deep within the caverns of their clan's compound... and right now, the earth was seemingly rumbling because of the thunder itself, as though Zeus had sensed, was probably already aware of his older brother intruding in the mortal realm.

Finally... Hades asked William:

“Why did you bring her here?”

“You're a god and you're... you're her father. Someone did this. I was hoping you’d defend her.” William managed to say, the words slow and measured, as though he was traversing through a landmine, just one wrong move and–

“Gods cannot be held responsible for their children's actions…” For a moment, a shadow played over the god's face, his dark eyes glinting against what little light there is as he recited one of their ancient laws: “...and I never got involved in my children's fights,” Hades declared with a tone of finality.

That wasn't old news.

Winters weren’t surprised by that.

She already knew of this.

But William was relentless. “It wasn't a fight at all if she wanted nothing to do with them in the first place!” he yelled with all the frustration of a child.

“What do you mean?”

“Are you for real? Look at her. No seriously, LOOK AT HER!” William screeched, pointing at her direction, gesturing wildly to her broken state. He stood up straighter, but his voice was cracking with emotion as though he was about to burst into tears any moment now, “The vampires… their K-King... he attacked us. He tried to–”

Tilting his head down at William in an appraising way, Hades interrupted before the child can say more, “You are very brave… for a mortal child, but very audacious to expect my aid for your revenge. You should have called for Lady Nemesis instead.”

“If this fails, then sure. Okay. For my family, I dare this and more,” William answered with a hint of pride in his watery smile, “...drill that into your bone head.”

The god's right eye twitched in irritation at the poor insult while Winters gaped at her brother’s insolence, her voice was sharp, horrified—

“WILIAM!”

“What?!” William scowled at her direction, stomped his foot like the child he rarely acted to be these past few years, “What'd I say wrong?” he complained, his words sounding more like a petulant whine.

Instead of smiting him right there and then as Winters had feared, the god impatiently gestured for his servants, the undead, who all marched right towards them from the shadows all from different directions. With one look, Winters was more shocked than frightened that she was able to know what these creatures are at first glance.

The undead were renowned fallen soldiers of all ages, all who had died in battle and they now served directly under Hades, ready to fight and kill any living being on sight should their god wish it.

“William, was it? Very well... I shall remember you, you arrogant child of man.” to the undead, Hades suddenly commanded, “Gentlemen, take this audacious brat out of my sight. Do not harm him. See to it that this child be brought somewhere safe for the time being.”

When William realized that his sister will not be leaving with him, he charged straight towards her, small hands tugging helplessly at the chains in panic.

...but Winters only shook her head sadly at him.

“No, no, William, please listen to me,” she soothed, trying to keep her voice level as the chains rattled loudly around her, “…it's going to be okay–”

“Stop it!” William cried, “Stop lying!”

“William, please,” she was crying now, the tears already forming at the corner of his eyes making her heart twist and ache as he pulled and clawed the bloodstained chains in despair, “…you have to leave now.”

“I won’t leave you–”

“William, for the love of all the gods!” Winters finally bursted out, her voice echoing despairingly in the underground temple, “Please just LOOK AT ME!”

He froze, meeting her eyes for the first time.

There were tears, sweat, and her blood mixed and splattered over such a young face—and Winters steeled whatever was left of her heart as she nodded without a word… to the undead.

In answer, her father's servants marched as one and seized William around the waist, forcing him roughly and easily away from her as he flailed and shrieked his sister's name, clawing and still screaming as they took him away. “Winters!” William wailed, hands still desperately reaching out for her, “DON’T LEAVE M–!”

Unbidden, a tear slowly rolled down her cheek.

. . .

“From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,

Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,

And soonest our best men with thee do go,

Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.

Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,

And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,

And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well

And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?”

. . .

From the corner of her eye, Hades stood closer and regarded her—the daughter he had all but cast aside so many years ago—his eyes looking over her battered face, impassively.

“You still worry for that boy when he has been spared? Truly, I will never understand you mortals...” the god of the underworld scoffed, shaking his head at her, looking rather baffled as he murmured, almost to himself: “…you, my dear, however, may not be as lucky.”

“I know. I am dying, after all,” Winters sighed, a pained breath rattling her lungs, as she craned up her neck to meet those cold, cold eyes.

“…so help me.”

Daring to gaze at her father's fathomless eyes of black that looked too much like two pits of the void itself brought on the sorrow and fear of all humanity throughout the ages and a sense of helplessness suddenly sank over her heart like a heavy anchor threatening to drag her down to its depths.

“Father, please…”

It was a mistake for the living to gaze directly upon the god of the dead himself but what would it matter when her life was already swaying dangerously close to death’s door?

Even her voice is a death rattle.

A fountain of sticky warmth had already pooled on the floor beneath her, bathing her battered body in her own blood and each drop of blood lost left her shuddering harder, desperate for any sort of relief.

Now that Winters is no longer fearing for William’s life, her mind finally registered the extent of pain that she was truly in… and it was pure torture in and out of itself, it almost made her want to take the cowards' way out—to die—just to end it all.

“Begging does not become you, my child. You are born to suffer. To thrive despite it all,” the god said in answer, his face softening a fraction despite the harsh words, “...and I am not supposed to interfere with your battles, let alone allow you to live. So do tell me—convince me—why should I help you?”

Because I am the only family William has left and I can’t leave him alone now… not like this, Winters can only think in her despair.

But she also knew that something as sentimental as that that wouldn't sway Hades—a powerful divine being who could never comprehend what it was like to be helpless and vulnerable—just to aid her plight. He would not save her life for such a reason.

Not even for his own child…

“Because I... I will do whatever you ask of me for as long I breathe,” Winters answered, at last, inwardly surprised that her voice managed to come out firm despite the tremors visible wracking her broken body from forcing the words out: “I will p-pay any… any price.”

And she almost sobbed on the spot in blessed relief when a flare of interest suddenly gleamed within the god’s cold eyes. “If I did choose to save you then... I would like to impart my essence to you. As my child, you should be able to bear my mark of favor and be tied to the world of the dead forever…” Hades told her, almost wistfully, a pale hand stroking his chin in thought as he paced in front of her, his dark eyes staring unseeingly at the caverns around them.

(Winters barely remembered traversing through the ancient caverns for what seemed to be like an endless night as William held her clumsily within his tiny hands in a tight grip while they were riding a large wolf that was the color of the purest snow.

“Please, keep your eyes open!” she remembered William telling her for what seemed to be like the nth time, his voice sounding scarily distant despite their close proximity, his warmth and the wolf’s thick fur doing little to the frigid air and the cold spreading inside her, “Stay with me. We're taking you to Hades!”

She coughed out blood.

“No ...he will not... help–”

“He will!” William assured her—and himself—sounding so grim but determined as he turned to look ahead, his hands around her tightening though she could no longer feel it, “...Right, Al?”)

From the distance, a lone wolf suddenly howled—as if in mourning, as if a loved one was dying—and thunder roared once more, drowning out the rest of the sound… which seemed to amuse the god of the dead even more. And Winters blinked when there was nothing but dead silence for a long moment, feeling her eyelids growing heavier by the second.

Had she imagined that…?

“While my servants have sacrificed their souls to carry on fighting, even in death, you would simply be gifted with my abilities. A shade of my being. My very own goddess of shadows, the finest that the underworld has to offer…” Hades chuckled mirthlessly before leveling her with a cold glare. “Tell me, daughter of mine, why do you think you are worthy of this power? When my soldiers have lived and died so honorably? When they are mine—wholly—body and soul?”

Just how the goddess of the moon's immortal hunters lived only for her—and despised the attentions of men... I understand why now.

“They are not like you, I admit, no longer possessing a free will of their own,” Hades continued, stopping directly in front of her, ignoring the shallow pool of blood he had stepped on, “…no matter how much you willingly offered yourself up to be. Tell me, is this what you truly want?”

..to become a mindless slave again?

Hazy memories of her and William's last three nights as prisoners to Roman, the immortal King of vampires himself—the harshest demon who had crawled out of the depths of Tartarus with the face of the most beautiful angel—suddenly played right before her very eyes at his words.

Just thinking about him instantly made her insides churn in sheer disgust, making her wretch with a pained, dry heave. What had he done? What had he done?

Did that bastard tear her apart?

Winters had refused to look down at her own body, too terrified of what she will find that remained of her limbs, but… but she could have sworn Roman had actually ripped her in half, had gnawed right through her heart, and feasted on her flesh and blood while she was about to pass out from the pain. But if that was the case, shouldn’t she have died by then?

After that, she wasn’t too sure if it was her mind being far too merciful for her to remember... but she distantly remembered crawling away from him on her hands and knees before she'd mindlessly merged into the shadows in a bid to escape with Winona's decaying corpse hastily tucked under her arm, William's hand gripped in another as they descended to oblivion, not knowing if they will ever get out.

She forcefully pried her mind away from those memories.

She would never let herself remember them, especially not that last night… that awful, awful night—William's screams for her to wake up and blood, so much blood… there was so much blood streaming down my–

“I d-don't... I don't know,” Winters mumbled weakly in answer, tearing up as she thought of every single thing that had ultimately led up to this, “Take what you wish, I... I know there is nothing left worthy of me…”

Hades said nothing as he continued to stare down at her unflinchingly, his face becoming blurry with her tears and the darkness that was ever-familiar when exhaustion and death draws near—and Winters knew there and then that if she dared to close her eyes now… she’ll wake up and find herself in her father’s court in the underworld instead.

She cannot let that happen.

“…but I can’t die,” her voice sounded so pathetic. It was no louder than a child’s plea as she struggled to keep her eyes open, to focus on her father. “Not yet. Not like this.”

Hades sighed as he momentarily closed his own eyes, “Gifts from a god always come with a price. You know that…” he reminded her quietly, sounding just as weary as she felt and when his eyes opened, his gaze was a touch softer, almost kind. “My child. Are you willing to pay mine?”

“I’ll sacrifice anything you ask of me.”

The god slowly reached out a hand towards her, watching her flinch... before resting it against the faint pulse on her neck, “I ask for a pure soul to judge the dead,” Hades murmured, “…one that is just, of fair heart, a being worthy to become the heir of the underworld.”

Winters nodded, weakly. “If it is your command father, I will do it. I will be pure. I will turn anyone away that is not my family,” she promised.

“Oh? So, you swear to be eternally pure from this day onward? Untouchable? Even when you are about to become a goddess?” Hades clarified and is just her or was… was that a hint of laughter in his voice?

Winters drew in a sharp breath when his cold hand pressed painfully against her neck, “A lot of goddesses can do it, so can I.”

After a long moment, Hades released her but did not move away, “You have narrowly escaped an immortal this time—making you embrace your birthright—yet you must realize he will come for you. He will hunt you down to the ends of the earth until you are within his grasp again.”

Yes, but by that time I'll have you by my side. And I'll know better. I'll be faster, stronger than him even. No one will hurt my brother or me as they did with my sister.

Never, never, never…

“That presumptuous fool shall merely do this to you again... not until you accept him,” Hades continued, raising an eyebrow at her.

She snarled, “Never.”

“You want to fight him?”

“I will send him to you.”

Once more, the god of the underworld regarded her thoughtfully. A flash of lightning briefly making the black in his eyes darker than they should have been when he continued to stare at her.

Winters couldn't even find it in her to be afraid.

“Very well, prinkípissa.” he finally said, “You have my blessing. I have decided to allow you to live and make you mine once more as long you remain loyal to me and be a worthy heir… however, should you ever dare try to fail me–”

The god's cold palms began to glow with black fire, dark shadows dancing across his pale visage, “With this κατάρα, you shall be reminded what brought you to death’s embrace… remember, my daughter. Remember so that you may never repeat this fall from grace,” Hades declared as he slowly held the fire so close to her face.

Winters shuddered just as a sinister grin slowly crept on the face that looked so much, too much like her’s, “…may this lesson make you a worthy heir.”

And forced her to swallow the fire whole–

Her sudden screams were drowned out by the sound of the god's maniacal laughter echoing all over the temple in a symphony of discord as her wounds knitted itself one by one.

Until the skin was smooth and unblemished once more, purging human blood and dirt down to the ground which sizzled until it faded—as though the temple itself was alive and feeding on her blood—her broken bones grinding together as they righted themselves in an agonizingly slow manner that had her fingers numb, her body twitching and trembling, her mind mercifully disconnecting from the state of sheer pain she was in.

Her mouth hung open in a silent scream.

Dimly, she can feel the chains breaking.

Suddenly, her entire body began to convulse.

(On and on, her flesh continued to burn inside out–)

As Hades weaved his arms around her to keep her still—a wretched imitation of what a father’s embrace should be, he leaned his head down to whisper on her ear—and she dimly perceived over the pain and the sound of her dying screams that the god’s voice sounded almost sorrowful, pitying:

“My poor, foolish prinkípissa,” her father was saying, sighing mournfully, “... in the end, I believe you shall wish I have welcomed you to my kingdom instead.”

(… until there was nothing left of her to burn.)

In her mind's eye, she can see them.

D̾ͦ̈͐҉̯͈̘͖̹a̼̹̯̠̦̖̐͝u̗̟͉͇ͧ̂͞g̢̜̣̪̗͚͙͇̾h̷̯̳̮̟̥͇̍ͫ͗t̨̳̳ͪę͈̙͈ͪͩͫř̸̦̗͖̭ͤ ͇̭̞̺͉̬ͥ̇͋̽͟ͅô̳̭̄͘ͅf̢̹̖͍͚͍̗͒ ͔̗̐͋͐ͨ͜H̛̦̜̖̩͚̝̟͕̓ė̼̬̲̫͖̝̝ͯ͂͠l͍͎̘͍͗̃ͯͪ͝ľ͙̟̝͍̭̘ͪ͛͠ͅ, they called her.

She can see an endless swarm of people crowding around her. Young and old, men and women, staring right back at her with hollow and sunken eyes.

A shallow gasp broke free from her mouth.

W̯͓͈̲̞͚̪ͩ̊ͩ̿h̗͓̮͎̠̼̃ͪ̉͜ä́ͤͧt͇͕͔̄ͅ ̇͆ͥ̌iş̙̝͖̣̠̃ į̘̬̺̪̞̔ͯͫ͆ţ͍͙̹͒͑ͦ ̳̫̱͙̘̗̟t̥̎h̴̗͊ͭͪͧa̝̜̜̮̦̬ͫ̽ͭt͚̘̳̠͍̮͂̓ͩ ͖̺̱͙͇̘̤y͊̿õ͆ṷ̩̙̮̬͍͍ͬ͡ ̨̱̤̬w͋̏͏̯̯a̗̲̎ͪͮ̍n̜̺̭͐͂̆̐ͫ̍̆͟t̴̉͐̂͗?̽̈́

She opened her mouth to speak.

They smiled.

Shadows slowly emerged from the ground, slithering towards her prone form until it coiled possessively around each and every limb before they disintegrated with a hiss upon meeting her skin.

And the shadows...

They felt familiar, like a friend she had always known yet forgotten, and it was cold, it was so, so cold—like the hands of a million corpses scrabbling for the thread of life, yanking whatever warmth that she had left to offer.

…and they reached out to her.

Within her small hands, a black sword with an inscription the color of dried blood suddenly bloomed on the silver hilt. She held it close to her chest, to her slowly beating heart.

Thanatos, it reads.

…the God of death.

“Rejoice, Proserpina, for I have named you as my heir,” Hades smiled, gazing at her eyes—now devoid of light and color, “The underworld’s goddess of shadows...”

There was a hint of something like pride in his voice, but Proserpina can feel nothing.... absolutely nothing… only the weight of overwhelming grief, just as thousands of other souls had before her when the god of the underworld gently planted a kiss on her forehead.

“…And dearest daughter of mine, you shall forever be nothing more than which you ruled.”

. . .

“One short sleep past, we wake eternally

And death shall be no more;

Death, thou shalt die.”

—John Donne

. .