THE FAMINE WAS A DISASTER WAITING TO OCCUR, A WRECK IN SHADES OF GREY MISERY.

My brother was a fool. He brought this on himself.

My bare feet trampled the newborn blades of grass creeping out of their hiding places. If only I could pluck that monster, that nuisance out of his hell beneath the ground? The cloak of silk dragged across the carefully tended earth, leaving below a trail of blazing destruction in its wake. Anger in all its glory flooded into my body like a well aged wine, leaving it vulnerable to reckless abandon.

Dismembered roses lay destroyed in the flaming, wrecked path I treaded, their stems burnt away, petals strewn to the winds.

Who knew what that abomination did to my rose, my blood, my precious little flower in that kingdom of his?

Spider shivers inched down my spine.

Had he starved her? Locked her up in a gilded cage, unable to sing, unable to call for help? Had he had his way with her, pleasuring in the pure sadistic enjoyment of having her at his mercy, using her body in any way he saw fit to fulfil his base desires? Did the King of Gods not even give one damn about his flower? Apollo had been right in his warnings.

Zeus is a liar. You think he cares? You really think he would care? Demeter, if you want things to be right - you have to do it yourself!

Fucking animals, this lot of men.

Crimson and blood tinged flames curled themselves around the dying trees, wreathing them in ribbons of angry fire. The summer had not been a kind one. The absence of my constant nourishment to mankind was the only thing it took to set off a long chain of unmitigated wildfire.

Don’t tell me I didn’t try, brother. You forced my hand.

Far above me in the white capped mountains, a peal of golden bells rang in the abode of Zeus. I curled my lips in a sneer, lips inching up in a smile.

It would not be long before he found out.

If my tongue and voice of reason were not enough to convince Zeus to part his brother’s hand from that of my daughter, this drought certainly was. I could almost picture him ordering me to loosen my hand, to even let a small amount of mercy trickle through in this punishment.

Too late, Zeus. You took my lifeline from me. I will do the same to your people until you give her back.

Because this insult - this insult to my capacity as a mother raising her daughter - this insult was one I would never forget. My wrath and the King of Olympus were long past civilised recourse.

Above my head, the skies rumbled uneasily.

Below my feet, the land moaned for relief.

Save us, mother. Shield us from your wrath, Giver of Life!

Too late.

Go your own way! Apollo urged me. Take matters into your hands!

And go my own way I would, I promised myself. I would tread the land for miles and miles and miles - spreading the fury of my wrath for as far as the eye could see. A loud and clear message to the King of Gods - loud enough to ensure he would never even dream of crossing me ever again.

If I could have stormed my way into the Underworld, I would. If I could storm into his gloomy palaces, I would. If I could rain fire and death and destruction and plague into his home below the ground, I would. I would go to the ends of the world, the ends of the universe, to bring her back.

And I would.

The night was young and lively and all things beautiful, like the way her eyes shimmered with delight, like the way her lips quirked up in a delicate smile, like the way she held her head up high - befitting not only a queen, but an empress.

The day at court had been long and weary, tiring me out. I wondered why I never noticed how uncomfortable the damned throne was for my poor bottom. Throughout it all, Persephone sat at my side, holding her own - shoulders pushed back, chin up high, the perfect picture of elegance.

Watching her learn how to run the kingdom was the highlight of my days. There was just this eager innocence about her, something endearingly naive about the way she would hesitate for just half a second before offering a suggestion, before turning to look at me. It was hard to believe just how sheltered, how protected she’d been before I found her - there was one day at court when she nearly fainted at the sight of a rather gruesome shade.

I’d tried to shield her from it - from the grimness, the despair of it all - but she was stubborn in her ways. Please stop protecting me, Hades, she’d argue. I’ve lived with this once. I do not wish to go with it again.

That was that.

Now she sat at my side, clad in a chiffon of lilac that swirled with every movement of the breeze. Her mahogany locks were in a braid that caressed the side of her neck before coming to a rest on her left shoulder. The Hall had just cleared moments ago as Thanatos led away the shade of a particularly malevolent spirit away to Tartarus. He was one of the few we’d managed to catch - the plague was getting worse and worse.

The Underworld was run over by too many souls for us to process. Even with the judges working day and night, there were too many cases left for me to judge, far too many exceptions for us to handle. Minos was on edge more often than ever - snapping at his companions every now and then. We all were.

What I’d managed to find out from questioning these shades was inconsistent. The rumours were that of a plague, of heretics burning down farms and villages - stealing from the weak and plundering the defenceless. Many reports spoke of a drought instead, a famine of unseen proportions. Most of the offenders lay rotting in my prisons, but there was still the question of how this happened. What sickness spread so fast? What was Zeus even doing? Surely he realised that if this kept spreading, a day would come where the Underworld would come to a complete standstill - unable to keep up with such a load on our daily work?

“Hecate,” I wearily motioned her over with a hand. “Have you any success with my brother? Where is that meeting you promised to secure for me?”

“He says he has it… under control,” the goddess twisted her face in a sneer. “But he refuses to grant you an audience until he has some private matters dealt with. Under control,” she muttered under her breath.

“Tell Zeus that if he does not come to me, I will go to him.”

“Oh, you definitely should,” she rubbed her eyes, green flames of annoyance shining in them. “In fact -” she leaned closer. “My spies tell me that the next council meeting is in exactly three days.”

Three days.

A conspiratorial look darkened her features as a nerve twitched in my temple. The only way to get my brother to listen - to make him listen - was to force him in a corner and make him respond. And nothing would serve that purpose better than giving him and his merry little band of Olympians a little dose of fear.

“Aren’t you a darling, dear Hecate?”

She grinned slyly, like a cat after a bowl of warm milk. More like a feral, sleek wildcat. A ghost of a smile danced on my lips as I dismissed her with a nod. Beside me, Persephone was deep in a conversation with Minos as Aeceus fluttered about nervously at his side.

“Can we not go up to the ground and see what is causing all this trouble?”

“We cannot, my Queen,” Minos muttered grimly, his lips thin, face wan.

“But why? It could tell us more about why so many people are dying, Lord Minos!”

“Our nature forbids us, my Lady,” the judge said quietly. “Our souls - our very essence are tied to the Underworld.”

“If not you, maybe someone else could-” Persephone began.

“Citizens of the Underworld stay in the Underworld, Queen Persephone,” Hecate snapped, her voice sour as curdled milk. “If the world above appeals so much to you, I strongly suggest you reconsider where your loyalties lie.”

My wife stared at her, eyes wide.

“I didn’t mean-”

“It has been a long day, goddess,” I said quietly. This was getting out of hand. Hecate’s hatred of the Olympians was well known, but she was taking it too far. My voice was full of meaning as I glared at her, silently willing her to just go.

The goddess of witchcraft only drew herself up, poison gleaming in her gaze as she stared at Persephone, before vanishing into the darkness.

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