Prologue

The time was morning on the other side, and I was ready to leave. The two of us stood standing, awkward and uncertain. He refused to look at me, and I refused to look away from him. I shifted my weight from foot to foot, waiting for Hecate to return with news. This silence… once, it had been almost calming and companionable. Now, it was pure torture.

It was cold, standing on the edge of the River Styx. I shivered even beneath my epiblema, the shawl that I wore over my thin shoulders. It was hard to stand there, enduring the silence between us, and forcing myself to keep my eyes off of the river. It had a strange way of making your mind soft, and getting inside your thoughts. I knew that better than anyone.

Gray clouds roiled above us, thick and rumbling with thunder. I looked up, my eyes searching the dull skies. Far above us, lightning fragmented in streaks of light, almost breaking open the sky. I frowned. There were never any storms in the Underworld, not until recently, and they had only been getting worse. But I knew why. As did he.

I slanted a glance at him, staring out of the corner of my eyes. He looked pale and drawn, even more so than usual. He hadn't eaten or slept as far as I could tell for far more than a day. It was my fault, I knew. He was suffering because of me. It seemed that was always happening, these days. His dark, moonless eyes were sunk back into his waxy skull, and he worried his lip between his teeth endlessly. He seemed on edge, even more so than usual.

"Are you all right?" I asked.

He didn't answer my question. Instead, he said, "I have something for you." He cleared his throat, still not looking me in the eyes. He reached into his chiton, staring at the black sand beneath our feet.

"For me?" I couldn't have hidden my surprise even if I tried. What could he possibly have for me?

"Yes. It's a… well, it's a gift. To remind you of your time spent here." He held out his hand.

It was a pomegranate. That was it; just a simple fruit. It was a vivid scarlet color, and it looked elegant, cupped perfectly in his hand. He broke it in half, some of the seeds falling to the ground. His eyes were searching as he handed me one half.

"Eat some." There! Finally, he looked at me. But the emotion there in his usual dead eyes was one of anguish. Was it possible that he was really sad that I was leaving? All this time I had doubted his emotions, doubted if he could feel at all. Clearly, he could, and our current predicament was tormenting him.

Guilt spread its way through my limbs, until I hung my head. Truly, if one of us was a monster, it was me. I decided right then and there that I was going to eat that gift of his, if only to appease whatever storm was brewing inside of him, and whatever storm was brewing above us.

Several seeds fell into my palm, rolling away from their cradle. I counted six of them. Six rich, crimson jewels glimmering in the smooth shell of my hand. Six cursed blades to rend my soul. I popped the first one into my mouth. It rolled over my tongue, a silky pearl between my teeth. An explosion of its lush, wine-flavor surged behind my lips, and the juices traveled down my throat. The taste was bittersweet, filling my mouth and staining my fingers, but I found a sort of sweet delight in it. A curious smoky fire ignited at the back of my throat, a flame that I relished and consumed. I pressed my tongue to the back of my teeth, to the roof of my mouth, searching for more of that nectar.

One by one, I swallowed them all. One by one, I swallowed my destiny. He watched me eat all six of them, his black eyes following the trail of my lotus hand to my petal lips.

I raised a seventh seed to my mouth, but before it could pass my lips, I felt a cool hand at my shoulder. "It's time to go," Hecate said, her voice distant, as if she were calling to me through a thick mist. She had come back for me, like she had said she would. As much as I knew it would hurt him, I couldn't stop the wave of relief that broke over my head like a swell.

"Are you ready to leave?" Hecate's fingers twitched at my shoulder.

I nodded. Now I was the one looking away. The pomegranate fell from my ivory fingers back into his clawed hand. He accepted the half of fruit without saying a word, but those burning eyes, full of both regret and mystery, spoke volumes. I had a feeling like he was trying to tell me something, as if he were trying to apologize. But for what? What was done had been done, and everything that could have been said had been uttered long before the moment of my departure.

Still, I hesitated. Hecate noticed, pausing and turning back for me. Her hand was in mine suddenly, pulling me away, gently. I let her tug, my feet unwilling. I felt as if I ought to say something to him, but what could I have said, to somehow sum up the past six months? What could I possibly say to change the moment?

"I'll come back," I managed to choke out. Behind me, Hecate gasped, and yanked on my arm harder, as if that might shut me up. "I gave you my word, that I would return and fulfill my promise. You know that, right?"

His breath left him in a sigh. "I admit that until this moment, I did not believe it."

I frowned. "What has changed your mind?"

The pomegranate collapsed beneath his iron grip, crushed into pulp. The juice stained his hands, running in rivulets between his fingers like blood. Each drop seemed to crash upon the sandy shore of the River Styx, and I watched with rapt fascination as he released the ruined fruit. It fell into the water, floating away on the black current.

He stepped forward, closing the space between us. My heart trembled, as he lifted my chin. "Remember this: there are some promises that cannot be broken. That is all I shall say." Lightly, he kissed my cheek. It was an evanescent kiss of mist, a coolness that I thought I had imagined. "Goodbye, my dear."

Fond farewells aside, I turned around and followed Hecate, back towards the life I had once known. My heart beat ferociously, with anxiety and excitement. Still, as I walked alongside the witch, I couldn't shake a feel of foreboding that had settled over my shoulders. My stomach twisted, a poisonous snake writhing in my gut. There was a fire on my tongue, in my chest. I could feel his eyes on my back, burning. Always burning. Something wasn't quite right.

"You should not have said that," Hecate muttered. "You should not make promises to him that you cannot keep."

"What do you mean?" I cleared my throat. Still, that fire remained.

She sighed. "You cannot come back here, child. You cannot come back, at the cost of your mother's heart. The world needs her, and she needs you. It has always been so."

I thought of her words as we passed Cerberus who was crouched menacingly on the shore of the River. So I had lied to him? I was never allowed to return, because my mother was too heartbroken without me? It was hard to believe that she had let mortals die, just for me. It made me feel uncomfortable, but not as much as when I thought about lying to him. I never wanted to, even when he made me angry or scared. He didn't deserve that.

Hecate turned back to me one last time. Her ebon hair swirled around her shoulders, moving in a wind that I could neither hear nor feel. She touched my cheek softly with two of her fingers, angling them just below my eye. Where I had felt his lips on my skin.

"Are you sure you're ready?"

I said nothing. I couldn't, because several things happened in that moment: there was a great flapping of wings above, and a shadow descended over us. As it did, a spasm of pain rippled throughout my body. It hit me quickly, before I could react, and I bent double, clutching my stomach. I emitted a sharp cry, as flames seemed to burst from every pore of my skin. Somewhere in the back of my mind, there was the slamming of a great metal gate; the contract, no doubt, wrapping around my soul. Following that were dark, mocking laughs; female snickers and shrieks that made my blood run cold. I knew them as soon as I heard them: the Fates. Damn them. The poison snake that coiled in my belly reared its ugly head and spit venom. I tasted bile, hot and bitter. Falling to my knees, I spit blood and acid onto the black sand, arching my back as I retched.

Hecate dropped down beside me, holding me close. She was saying things, words, but nothing seemed to register. Everything was foggy and unclear, as I knelt down closer to inspect the sand. There was something wrong with the vomit. It was dark, and frothy. Colorful. Something wasn't right. Colorful? Blood. Why blood? Why had I spit blood?

No. Not my blood at all. Dripping from my lips, and pooled on the ground in front of me was hot pomegranate juice. The blood of six beautiful, treacherous seeds.

It looked like I would be keeping my promise to Hades, after all.

Yeah, I know. Yet another re-telling of the infamous myth. It is my favorite, though, and I have a lot of events planned for this story. It's short and could probably be better, but it's just an intro. The more interesting writing comes later!