Lucius waited until he faded into shadow before folding into a seated position. He took a deep, steadying breath and pulled Cerberus’s visage into his mind’s eye, picturing the cave he’d left them in.
“Summon me,” he whispered, pushing his voice into the void so one might hear him. He pictured their dark, innocent eyes, Ashera’s twinkling laugh, Abi’s cherubic arms as they wrapped around him. He pictured Cerberus keeping them warm, recalling the tickle of his fur and the way his heads cocked in curious unison. Summon me.
Remarkably, the sensation of being pulled followed. His body trembled as he dissolved, his spirit called back to earth. Once there, he attempted to stand but was so disoriented he could only steady his breathing and rub at his eyes until he felt corporeal again. His cleared vision revealed nothing but an empty, echoing cave.
“Ashera? Cerberus?” he called, rising to his feet. He hurried to the mouth of the cave, only to greet an ocean that stretched endlessly, no sign of the valley nor the hills that once lay below it. He whipped back around to see Cerberus curled up against the cave wall, completely still. He ran over, crouching down to rouse him. His heart leapt against his chest thinking he was dead, but six eyes finally wrenched open to look in his direction. They were listless within protruding eye sockets, the outline of his skeleton visible under his fur. He realized he’d been gone much longer than he had hoped. “I am so sorry, my friend,” Lucius murmured in despair. “I did not know they would keep me so long. Are they here?” He searched around for any clue of the twins, even a bone, but the cave was devastatingly bare. He looked down at the sea, trying not to imagine the worst scenario. Perhaps someone rescued them, he thought. Perhaps they found a way to escape. Perhaps.
He swallowed hard, trying not to fall apart as he resumed his place beside Cerberus, stroking his back. At least his oldest friend was still alive. “Come on, let us go home,” he said softly.
They returned to the same part of the Underworld he had left behind, but there was no jackal-faced god waiting to greet him. This time, Lucius remained splayed out across the charcoal sand where he landed, motionless as he listened to the gentle lapping of the river. Cerberus curled up neatly beside him as an intuitive understanding passed between them that neither was in a place to be disturbed.
Lucius wasn’t sure how long he lay there despondent. At some point, he felt Cerberus rise up to find food, settling back down next to him without a sound. His mind had slowed to the point of numb stagnation, ceasing its unending race, knowing there was nothing left to solve, nothing to plot, nothing to push his way through. He had never felt sorrow so fresh and deep that he could not think, but it had come, an unyielding king who immobilized his limbs with iron shackles, bleeding his hopes out of him with scalding pokers. Lucius was its willing captive, for somewhere inside, he knew he didn’t deserve the life he’d gotten a fleeting glimpse of, that his existence was one of unrelenting sorrow, and that's all it would ever be.
He was content to remain on the Underworld floor indefinitely until one day, he heard a gentle wave upset the lake. A growl picked up in his dog’s trio of throats, rousing his mind from its miserable slumber. “It is just the old man I left to set up the realm,” he murmured to Cerberus.
“Not quite,” a female voice corrected him.
Lucius bolted upright, his mind fully awake. He observed someone sailing towards him, but it was not the man he’d left behind, but a woman with slick white hair and strange red eyes that matched the scarlet toga wrapped around her generous curves.
“Who are you?” Lucius demanded. “What have you done with the old man?”
“The old man is Charon, and he is the one who will bring souls across the river Styx to your realm,” the woman explained as she climbed daintily off the boat, one foot at a time.
“Is that right,” Lucius said flatly. “And who might you be?”
“My name is Minthe,” she said with a smile and a mock curtsey, the action rippling the fabric of her dress. “You left Charon behind to create, and he created the woman you see before you. Fortunately, my soul has already existed for quite some time, simply waiting for the right form. A few years from now, the Greek people will become civilized and write stories about the Olympian Gods, including Hades, the King of the Underworld. I just so happen to have the gift of foresight, and I have saved us all a lot of trouble by creating it ahead of time. You are now Hades, and I’m to accompany you to your new kingdom.”
“Hades?” Lucius scoffed. “Well, I suppose of all the names I have been saddled with lately, that one is not too intolerable.”
“I think what you mean to say is ‘thank you,’” Minthe said, extending a hand to help him up. “There is no way Charon could have created an entire realm alone.”
“My dear, I am not in a position to thank anyone, let alone appreciate the current prison I have found myself in.” Lucius stood up by himself, his lanky frame towering over hers.
“Then let me guide you to your home so you can rest,” Minthe offered, unruffled by his hostility. She gently took his arm.
Cerberus let out an indignant sound, reminding Lucius of his presence. He had risen up into his full size, his heads sweeping the cavernous roof. “Look about the realm for me, will you?” Lucius asked. “I would like to be sure there aren’t any more unexpected guests. There will be fresh meat for your troubles.”
The three-headed beast bobbed its heads before lumbering off to inspect the tenebrous realm.
As soon as Lucius boarded the tiny boat with his unrequested tour guide, it moved by itself, slicing through the long body of water. He stared at his new reflection in the inky ripples, blinking only when he thought he saw pale, bobbing limbs of bodies trapped beneath the surface.
“This is the river Styx,” Minthe explained. “It flows out into four smaller rivers: Acheron, the river of sorrow, Phlegethon, the river of fire—which separates us from Tartarus—Cocytus, the river of lamentation, and Lethe, the river of oblivion—my river,” she added proudly. “Your palace is separated from the realms of the dead in a place called Elysium. No one can access it but you.”
Lucius stared at her.
“What is the matter?”
He turned his gaze towards the angular structure he assumed was his palace as it crept into view. “For a moment, you reminded me of my former wife,” he said softly.
“I am going to take that as a compliment,” she said as she followed his gaze. “Women are natural creators. It is what we do best.”
Lucius was silent. The urge to rest suddenly overwhelmed him.
“Here we are.”
The palace was a colossal, rigid structure, several stories high with a single dome. Constructed with polished black stone, it glistened even without any discernible light source, even its wooden adornments painted black. The sheer size of it fostered intimidation, but it was made even more so by the towering pointed gates guarded its facade. They had done well, he decided, as she led him through them, climbing the marbled steps into the echoing main hall.
Lucius froze in his tracks. He squeezed his eyes shut against the assault of painful visions of children running past, filling the hollow chamber with their laughter. He thought of them shivering as they starved alone in the cave and his chest seized up with despair. The world began to spin and he dropped to his knees, ignoring Minthe’s worried voice as he reached back to King Sorrow, begging him to take him back to the dungeon. Just kill me, he pleaded. And then, oblivion.
He woke to the rumbling snores of a beast nestled at his feet. He groggily sat up, grateful to see Cerberus had returned, shrunk back down to normal size. A fire crackled nearby in what he assumed was his bedroom, the flames white against smooth black marble etched into patterns depicting death’s many faces. He threw off his sheets, yawning as he looked around for clothing. But before he could progress forward, the events of what led him there returned with a vengeance and he fell back miserably onto the bed. I should have just let them drown rather than starve with false hope, he thought morosely. Perhaps that would have been the most painless way to go.
Like a bolt of lightning, a thought struck. If they had died, Anubis would have known, for it was he who met the souls before sending them to their prospective places. It was that thought that catapulted him out of bed. He threw on a robe and tore down the winding stairs to the main floor of the palace.
Minthe was already there, waiting for him with a stack of papyrus in her arms. She blinked in surprise at his hastiness. Her hair hung neatly down her back and she looked fresh faced with a new set of scarlet robes. “Where are you off to in such a state?”
Lucius scowled. “Why are you in my home? I thought you said you lived near the Lethe River.”
“You have rested and now we must go over the plans for the realm,” she explained, lifting up the bundle. “You will begin to receive souls soon, and we have nowhere to put them.”
“I must speak with Anubis immediately. Can you contact him?”
Minthe frowned. “There is an unspoken pact between us all to respect the boundaries of the realms.”
“I do not care about any of that,” Lucius snapped. “And quite frankly, I do not care for this ruse either. Tell me how I can reach Anubis.”
Minthe put her free hand to her hip. “Do you want Anubis to discover you are really Set, so he can banish you back into the depths of Tartarus?” she challenged. “You are aware that this time, no one will help you escape,”
Lucius peered at her. “How do you know who I am?”
