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My face heated as my thoughts continued down their wicked path. I licked my lips, staring down at my spoon as I scooped another bite of stew and put it in my mouth. When I finally got control of myself, I lifted my gaze to meet his.
“Before I go with you, I have a question,” I began.
“What is it, little thief?”
“What is your name?” I asked, my voice steady despite the fear that gnawed at me.
He leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. For a moment, I thought he might refuse to answer, but then he nodded slowly.
“I will give you mine in exchange for one piece of information about you.”
I frowned, my curiosity piqued. “What do you want to know?”
His eyes darkened, and he leaned forward, his gaze piercing. “Who gave you the marks on your back?”
I froze, the memories flooding back in an instant. The pain, the humiliation, the rage, all of it. I took another deep breath, forcing myself to meet his gaze.
“The Sun King,” I said softly. “He’s the one who did it.”
The Dark King’s expression hardened, his eyes narrowing.
“Tell me the story. I want to know everything.”
I swallowed hard, my throat tight. “My father was killed by the Sun King for stealing to feed the poor. My mother was taken as a slave in the noble household as punishment, leaving me to fend for myself. When I was caught trying to steal food, the Sun King had me beaten as a warning to others.”
His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek. “The Sun King will pay for this,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.
I shook my head, a bitter smile tugging at my lips. “It doesn’t matter now. What’s done is done.”
“No,” he replied firmly. “It matters. You are mine now, and no one harms what is mine without consequences.”
I stared at him, trying to figure him out. Despite the darkness that surrounded him, there was a part of him that cared. It was confusing, but it was also strangely comforting.
“You said you would tell me your name,” I reminded him, my voice soft.
He nodded, his expression softening slightly.
“I did, didn’t I? Hades. My name is Hades.”
“Hades,” I repeated, tasting the syllables on my tongue.
He leaned back, his eyes never leaving mine. His violet irises seemed even more intense, circled by a ring of dark purple and mottled with flecks of silver and lavender. They were really quite beautiful.
“Thank you,” I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper.
He nodded, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “You’re welcome, little thief.”
He finally stood, offering his arm to me. I hesitated for a moment, then took it. His grip was firm yet somehow still gentle. In silence, he led me out of the dining hall and into the dark, winding corridors of the castle.
As we walked, Hades guided me through various rooms. The first room we entered was a grand hall, its high ceilings etched with intricate carvings and crystal chandeliers that cast a soft,eerie light. The walls were lined with tapestries, their colors faded but still vibrant.
“This is the Hall of Memories,” Hades explained. “It holds the history of Helheim, from its earliest days to the present.”
I gazed at the tapestries. There were scenes of great battles, of heroes and villains, of love and betrayal. Hades continued to lead me through the castle, showing me rooms filled with treasures and artifacts from distant lands, chambers full of opulent furniture and rich fabrics, and even a grand ballroom, its marble floors polished to a gleaming shine.
Next, we walked through a garden enclosed within the castle walls. Unlike the lush, vibrant gardens of Sungard, this one was filled with dark, twisted flora that seemed to thrive in the perpetual twilight of Helheim. Strange, glowing flowers emitted an eerie light, their petals shimmering with an otherworldly iridescence.
“This is the Garden of the Damned,” Hades said quietly. “It is a place of reflection and solitude, where the souls of the departed can find peace.”
