Beyond the grave and funeral pyre lay a land of shadows and eternal gloom, the Underworld. Dead souls were taken by the messenger of the gods, Hermes. They were brought down through dark, gloomy caves and long, winding underground paths until they came to five rivers.

Charon, the ferryman, waited across the black shore of Styx. By the Gates of Hades, the three-headed hound Cerberus which had an appetite for live flesh, would attack everyone but spirits. There lived the dead — heroes and cowards, shepherds, priests, and minstrels. They wandered back and forth aimlessly, waiting for their turn to be ferried by Charon.

Once they had crossed the ink-black river, the souls had to wait again for the trail with the three judges — Minos, Rhadamanthys, and Aeacus, the netherworld demigods.

Brave heroes might find themselves assigned to the blissful Elysian Fields, the Isles of the Blessed. There, they could relive the joys of life. Those whose crimes warrant a sentence to eternal punishment were sent to the darkest regions of Erebus or down the pit of Tartarus.

There lay a grand palace made of black rock and crystal, the abode of a tall slender goddess, Hades. Her majestic black robe and puissant look made those around her cower in fear. From the solemn grace and unpitying nature that were woven to her dread majesty, the mortals were afraid to even mention her name. Very few knew her as Áïda. Perhaps for fear of pronouncing it, they started calling her Hades.

At the end of each day, Hades would demand a head-count of the dead from Charon. But now, she sat slump on her great black throne, sighing heavily to herself. Charon's report of the arriving souls was evidently ignored. His mistress's mind seemed adrift elsewhere. Since her return from Olympus, Hades was pensive and negligent with her work.

All day, the only task she seemed to partake more frequently was drinking her red wine and sighing. The ferryman dared not interrupt his mistress's stupor though he somehow wondered what had possessed her mind.

"Should I continue the day’s report, my lady?" Charon asked.

Upon hearing his voice, the goddess returned to her senses and looked down at her servant.

"No need," she said, rubbing her temple with long slender fingers. "Finish it tomorrow. Surely the dead don't mind the wait. Ask Minos to herd them off to the Field of Asphodel. I can't stand them twittering like bats around my palace."

"Yes, my lady." Charon bowed and left the throne room.

The palace grounds and the surrounding fields were called Erebus. It was the deepest part of the Underworld. No birds flew there, but the sounds of wings were heard that day, for the three fearsome creatures had returned - Tisiphone, Alecto, and Megaera, the Furies, the Eumenides or Kindly Ones.

They were hags with snarky hair, red-hot eyes, and yellow, sharp teeth. They slashed through the air over the Erebus Field towards Hades's palace. They carried with them metal studded whips. If they found a victim, they would whip the flesh from his bones. Their task was to visit Earth under Hades’s command and punish evil-doers. But this time, it was a different matter.

When they reached the goddess of the dead, they circled low over the sparkling black ceiling, screaming their songs and the latest gossip from the world above.

Hades's mood promptly shifted when she saw her servants wild with the news. It didn’t take long for the Furies' dramatic zeal to irritate the intolerant goddess.

Hades stood up from her throne and bellowed in her powerful, sharp voice.

"Get down at once and give me what you were asked to seek!" she cried to the Kindly Ones. At last, the horrible trio came down and bowed before their mistress.

"O Hades, ever the impatient one," Megaera said, then hissed at her other two sisters. "Silence, you old hags! She wishes to know the news of the dainty maiden."

Though they knew Hades valued them, the Furies would rather stay away from their mistress's wrath. The hags of hell finally began narrating what they had gathered from the upper realm. Demeter's child, a virgin of such remarkable beauty that she was kept hidden from the eyes of wishful suitors for all of her life. The young, lovely goddess spent her days idyllically gathering fragrant flowers in the fields of Nysa, which spread as far as the eye could see. During the long summer hours, Persephone helped her mother gather seeds to pollinate and sow the fertile earth. When Persephone smiled, Demeter's heart swelled with pride and happiness, and the crops grew high and healthy as flowers tumbled and bloomed everywhere.

"She has been shielded away by her doting mother," the Furies went on, "carefully kept from dangers that could befall so fair a creature."

"I wonder how she is now," Hades murmured to herself.

"Persephone is fine and fair and blossoming like the flowers which surround her sanctuary, my lady."

The more the dark goddess heard about the dreamy maiden, the more her heart burned with the hot golden ichor. It rushed through her veins with a strange sensation. If Hades wasn't a goddess, she would have been sure she was under some powerful curse she hadn't known. 

Hades did not realize that her cold, nonchalant heart could feel such mysterious feelings until she met the maiden. That night, on the bright and vibrant Olympus, Hades was shaken by the sweet confusion. It made her mind grow dizzy with joy and strangeness. She had seen mortals become stupid and go utterly mad with love. They fought and killed and sacrificed and even died for it.

But no,w she was a willing victim of the same spell. 

None could blame Hades for her great yearning. The Underworld was the realm of darkness, populated by the dead. Persephone's radiance could assuredly enliven her kingdom. There was no one more dazzling than the daughter of the earth goddess. She still remembered how those big innocent eyes, the color of the emerald forest, enraptured her entire being. She relished at the thought of her lips touching that soft, beautiful skin. It made her body tingle with strange needs. Persephone had the face of all the beauty in all the world.

Hades sat back in her great ebony throne and drew in a long, deep breath. All of a sudden, the young maiden had become more precious to her than anything on earth or in heaven.

"Do you think I should go to Demeter and ask for her daughter’s hand?" the passionate and besotted goddess asked her three servants.

"A waste of time, Hades," Alecto said truthfully. "Demeter has an obsessed love with this child. Surely, she will never oblige to your wish."

Hades was not used to being denied what she wanted. Though not being regarded as the Olympian, she was still a powerful goddess, ruler of the dark yet wealthy realm, an older daughter of the Titan Cronus and Rhea. Even Zeus would be reluctant to displease her. Nothing could stop the Mistress of Soul from having the maiden of her heart.

Hades leaned herself back and closed her eyes.

She must have Persephone.

~*~

One warm, sun-kissed morning, Persephone lay on the long grasses by the idle stream. It trickled through the field at the end of the garden. Bees hummed above the lapping waters. Butterflies glided and came to rest beside the serene young maiden. An eager toad jumped at the darting dragonflies. It was a beautiful summer day. 

Persephone's beauty was accentuated by the lush green grass and the sunlight on her handsome countenance. Lying under the cascade of a golden ray, she could hear the gentle voices of the Seirenes, singing and laughing in between whispered gossip. They were gathering handfuls of purple crocuses, royal blue irises, and sweet-smelling hyacinths, which they would make flower crowns for Persephone.

The fair maiden had not thought of the night at Olympus since their return. But once in a while, a pair of black brilliant eyes haunted her mind like a shadow. She quickly dismissed that unsettling feeling that seemed to itch in her heart. After being tired of her handmaiden's cheery gossip, Persephone decided to slip away and find a spot where she could be left alone.

The sun shimmered on the waters, and the straying brilliance flickered over the deep blue sea. Across a stream, through a grove of trees, to a little glade, the birds sang and flowers danced as Persephone strolled along the path. She carried her paint pot with a smile that embraced her exquisite features. She had seen a stand of tall waxy pale irises and lilies she had decided to stripe. It was her joy to paint their faces with colors, which the goddess thought were best fitted for each kind.

As she went about painting irises, lilies, daisies, asters, and daffodils, she saw a vision of the most enchanting flower blooming on the ground. Persephone knew it was the narcissuses, her favorite ones. She thought of bringing some to her mother to put in her hair and promptly went farther to get them.

But not far away from the flowers was a strange bush with thick, green, glossy leaves, and hung with large red berries that trembled on their stems like drops of blood. She leaned closer to inspect the plant. As Persephone stood, staring curiously at the mysterious bush, she didn't know whether she liked it or not. The maiden who was always particular about plants and flowers found the scrub little to her liking.

At last, Persephone turned away and reached down to pluck a handful of narcissus from their resting ground, but it was toughly rooted and hard to pull. She was used to getting her way and set herself for a mighty tug. Up came the bunch of beautiful white flowers, their bulky roots dragged out of the ground, leaving a big hole by the bush. She thought nothing of it and turned to go back to where she had left her paint pot, but suddenly, the earth under her feet began to tremble. She heard a rumbling sound and looked around to see what was happening. The noise was growing louder and louder coming from the hole. To her horror, the ground fell away and seemed to be spreading, opening like a mouth, and then the rumbling grew to a jangling, crashing din.

Out of the gaping crevice in the earth emerged six enormous black horses, dragging behind them a golden chariot. In the chariot stood a tall, graceful woman in a long, flowing black cape. On her head was a glittering black crown. Her long, moon shadow-black hair flowed like fine silk over her shoulders. Persephone was frozen by the unexpected presence of the Underworld monarch. She couldn't even think of a word to utter before she was whisked off her feet by a pair of strong arms and onto the golden chariot.

Persephone heard a crack of the whip upon the majestic horses. It brought the maiden back to her senses. As the anarchic beasts pulled the fiery wheels up in the air and back again, the young maiden realized she was about to be taken down into the black depths. The thought of this brought a flaring terror to her heart. Yet, when Persephone opened her mouth to cry for help, Hades's cold nectar-sweet lips drank all her screams. They plunged into the hole, and her vision was soon lost within the darkness as they descended into the world below.

After they had gone, the entrance closed itself again.