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My parents were gone, and I had no idea where I was.
The cavern was surprisingly bright. I turned in search of my parents, hoping against the odds they’d been transported along with me. Instead, I spotted two elaborate chairs.
Not chairs. Thrones.
The throne on the left bore the symbol of a cockerel, and the throne on the right bore the design of a hen.
Pops had taught me enough mythology to recognize my new location. I was in the Greek underworld in the throne room of Hades and Persephone.
But why?
Melinoe was their daughter, but I, Lorelei Clay, was the daughter of the people in the cornflower-covered room. Dana Frost and James Clay.
Maybe the signals got crossed and the spell, or whatever was fueling this reunion, was confused by my goddess status. Whatever the reason, I didn’t have time to waste in the underworld. I was here to see my parents again.
Claude scrambled along my arm and jumped to the throne. His index finger tapped the symbol of the hen.
“Thank you, but I figured it out already. That’s the throne of Persephone, the queen of the underworld.” Melinoe’s original mother, not mine.
Claude’s fingers spread in what appeared to be exasperation. He scurried to the other throne and smacked the cockerel.
“Yes, I see, Claude. The cockerel is Hades. The hen and the cockerel…” I stopped abruptly. The salt-and-pepper shakers in the first room. Those were also a hen and a cockerel.
I brushed aside the thought. Lots of people decorated their homes in a country style, with wooden signs advertising eggs for 25 cents and a display of ceramic chickens. It was likely a coincidence.
I surveyed the cavern for other evidence of my location. A lush rug lay beneath my feet. The design involved crocuses, violets, irises, lilies, larkspur, and roses. According to legend, these were the flowers Persephone had been gathering the day she was taken to the underworld by Hades for the first time.
Instinctively, my hand rose to touch the invisible mark on my forehead. A rose.
It had to be another coincidence. The rose was related to the beings that gave me the mark. Persephone wasn’t the one responsible for hiding me. It was unlikely the goddess even knew of my existence.
I spotted a five-foot-tall urn on a pedestal and crossed the room for a closer look. The exterior was covered in depictions of famous figures. Paintings of Hades and Persephone sharing food and drink decorated the narrow top. Below them I recognized Minos thanks to his notable staff with the eagle top. Beside him were his fellow judges of the dead, Aiakos and Rhadamanthus. Aiakos wore a set of keys. The trio were sons of Zeus credited with establishing law and order in the mortal realm. Their father granted them demigod status in the underworld as a reward for their service.
I stared at the urn. Had Pops taught me about them? I couldn’t recall a specific lesson, yet I knew them the way I knew that water was wet.
My palms grew slick with sweat.
It was Melinoe’s knowledge, not mine, but that wasn’t possible. Her past had always been inaccessible to me, as dormant as Mount Kilimanjaro. Only her powers made themselves known.
Around the urn’s belly, more familiar figures were displayed. Orpheus and Eurydice. Heracles. Sisyphus. Hermes, whose job involved guiding souls to the underworld. My fingers instinctively reached out to touch the painting of the three-headed dog, Cerberus. Ferocious when necessary but otherwise an absolute sweetheart.
With shaking hands, I backed away from the urn.
I spun in a circle, searching for more … of what I wasn’t sure. The cavern seemed eerily empty for the throne room of a Greek god and goddess. Where were its occupants?
The light was brighter here than in my childhood home, despite its location in the depths of the underworld. The crystals created a prism of colorful luminance.
Maybe my parents’ shades had been sent here, but that made no sense. Frost and Clay weren’t Greek names. As far as I knew, we had no Greek heritage apart from my connection to Melinoe.
A sharp whine cut through the quiet. I glanced at the shadows and saw movement. I didn’t wait to see more. I turned and fled into a dark corridor. My feet moved swiftly and with confidence, even though I had no idea where I was going. The whining followed me into the corridor, echoing loudly in the narrower space.
My chest tightened as I ran faster. The sound of multiple footsteps echoed behind me. I saw light up ahead and sprinted toward it—a colorful prism in varying shapes and sizes.
I crossed the threshold and came to an abrupt halt. The colorful lights were the same stained-glass windows as before. I was back in the church where I’d started. Still dilapidated and empty.
I burst through the exit, my whole body trembling. I’d expected to feel emotional, but my physiological response was next level. I felt like someone had been playing Lucifer’s Waltz on my heartstrings for the past hour. Once outside, it took me a solid five minutes to collect myself and only then did I walk with shaky steps toward my motorcycle.
Did Mathis know in advance what I would see? If not, had he been privy to my vision? I worried about The Corporation beating me to the punch and making sense of this before I had a chance to fully process. That was the likely reason for their ‘no strings attached’ approach. They figured they’d gather intel about me, gain the upper hand, which meant Mathis wouldn’t have known in advance. This was a trap, only not the kind I’d anticipated.
