Lucas watched as his friends left Elysian. It wasn't near midnight that he decided to leave for his own journey. When Hecate discovered his desire to visit the underworld and make a deal with Persephone, she suggested using her own entrance, one that would only open to those of her blood and at midnight.
The entrance was hidden near a rundown warehouse on the outskirts of town, a crossroads with a manhole cover at its center. It had no markings or magic attached, making it seem perfectly normal, until the moon was at its peak. Then, through his Veil sight, Lucas noticed the change.
A faint pulse, which made him uncomfortable, came from beneath the cover. It was time.
He cut his palm, allowing him to collect some blood to draw a triquetra, an ancient Wiccan symbol that represented Hecate. Once done, he waited a few seconds for the blood to be absorbed by the manhole; when it was fully absorbed, the manhole rose, sliding aside with unnatural ease, allowing Lucas to look into what was below.
There wasn't much to see except darkness and some rock outcrops that caught what little of the moon's light fell down the hole, but Lucas didn't hesitate before jumping down. This was what his mother had described to him, so there was no reason to hesitate. As he fell into the awaiting darkness, the manhole cover flashed the symbol of the triquetra one last time, as it slid back to cover the entrance.
The air grew colder as he fell, not the typical freezing cold you got during winter, but one that was felt in the soul, causing Lucas to shiver with no way to get rid of this feeling. Before long, he dropped onto solid ground. Before him lay a wide, curving tunnel carved from smooth, ancient stone; the path sloped downward, the temperature falling further with every step. Soft blue torchlight flickered in wall sconces, casting shadows that shifted unnaturally, making them seem alive.
The tunnel opened to a vast underground cavern, and there it was, the River Styx.
Black as tar and wide as a city avenue, its sluggish waters gave off the faint smell of rot and ozone. The air was thick with a pressure that weighed on Lucas, a reminder that the Styx wasn't just a lake with water.
Souls crowded the shoreline: hazy, translucent forms with blurred faces and sunken eyes. Some wept. Others muttered to themselves. None paid him any attention, a rare living being in the underworld.
A long dock jutted into the water, where a black boat floated, awaiting a new passenger. A tall figure stood at the bow watching him.
Charon.
He was dressed exactly like one would come to expect from the grim reaper. Wearing a black tattered robe, his face wasn't visible beneath the robe's hood, but the skeletal hands that held the rowing oar were visible, allowing Lucas to guess that beneath that robe was nothing more than a skeleton.
"A living demigod," he said, voice dry as parchment. "Let me guess. You desire to follow in the footsteps of Heracles? Charge into Hades and cause a ruckus?"
Lucas reached into his coat and produced a gold drachma. "I am here to meet with your Queen."
"A refreshing change. Board, then." With the drachma in hand, Charon pushed against the dock as Lucas stepped onto the ferry, allowing the ferry to glide across the waters of the Styx. The vessel moved without Charon needing to row, drifting forward in total silence.
The crossing was unnerving. Shapes drifted beneath the surface of the Styx: limbs, faces, the occasional glint of bone. Lucas spotted a shattered music box turning endlessly in the current, a child's drawing dissolved at the edges, a diploma scorched in half. There were trophies, medals, and chessboards with missing pieces. Broken instruments. All of them sinking slowly through the water like forgotten dreams.
"I would advise not to touch anything, the river will drain you of all hope and memory, consuming you," Chiron advised the demigod, watching his interest in what was below.
He felt a gaze then, his instincts catching the direction of where it originated. It was coming from the river itself.
Charon said nothing. He stood, impassive. Maybe he didn't care about the gaze, or perhaps it wasn't noticed by him.
As they approached the far shore, Lucas noticed the imposing obsidian gate and dark walls, Erobos, the walls of Hades. In front of the gate was a long queue of the undead, seemingly waiting to enter; the only officials Lucas saw were a few undead equipped in menacing and chilling obsidian gear, calling forth the occasional undead to grant entry.
When Lucas approached the gate, he instinctively took a step back, before him suddenly dropped a massive hound, dwarfing even the largest hellhounds. A gigantic black and mahogany three-headed Rottweiler dog, with a single snarling mouth revealing sharp fangs and eyes that pierced straight into the soul.
However, Lucas wasn't afraid; his mother had given him some tips on how to deal with Cerberus when they spoke. He used his magic to conjure a massive red ball, and it seemed the effect was immediate. The snarling stopped, the hound dealing back on its hind legs, tail wagging enough to disrupt even the undead queue. Its eyes were no longer sharp and piercing, but full of joy and expectation for the ball.
Promising himself to actually spend some time with the dog when he was leaving the underworld, Lucas threw the ball far away, having Cerberus chase after it and allowing Lucas to make his way past the gates and into the realm of Hades.
He followed the black stone path that wound toward the looming palace in the distance, only seeing the patrols of the undead under Hades' rule, and in the distance, what seemed to be the Asphodel Fields.
Soon, he reached the palace.
The palace was carved from obsidian, its towers rising like jagged teeth from the earth. Green flames flickered in braziers of gold, casting eerie shadows across the grand courtyard. Although the underworld was harmful to the living, Lucas did notice a small patch of life, a garden filled with flowers.
Before he could get a better look, the main doors opened, inviting him in.
With a deep breath, Lucas stepped into Hades's palace.