Chapter 59
The obsidian gates of hell groaned under the tremors of Hera's divine power. The bone snakes coiled around the bronze door knockers seemed ready to pounce, but they turned to ashes the moment they touched her skirt.
Doreen gripped the twin swords at her waist, her boots grinding against the scattered ashes of the dead by the door, a chill running down her spine.
That was the unique, eternally desolate coldness of the underworld.
"Don't look up."
Hera's voice was deep, and the ends of her golden hair gleamed coldly in the dim light. She raised her hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, and the ruby ring on her finger sparkled with starlight.
"The will-o'-the-wisps of hell are captivating; follow me."
Hera looked up and saw only endless darkness behind the door, with only faint, eerie blue will-o'-the-wisps floating in the distance.
"She's afraid of the dark."
The woman said in a muffled voice.
Winslow didn't understand what Hera was talking about and stared at her blankly.
The ruby suddenly burst forth with crimson starlight, cleaving a path ahead.
Doreen Winslow followed closely behind her, catching glimpses of several twisted shadows flitting through the darkness out of the corner of her eye.
Those shadows had human outlines but no facial features. Black mucus flowed from their bald eye sockets. They stretched out their withered hands, trying to grab any passing creatures, but the moment they touched the red starlight, they let out a piercing scream and turned into a wisp of black smoke.
"If we go any further, we'll reach the banks of the River of Oblivion. Charon's ferry won't take passengers who aren't interested in anything, so we need to prepare what he wants," Doreen instructed.
Winslow touched the round money pouch in his arms and nodded.
The waters of the River of Oblivion were an eerie dark green, and countless translucent spirits floated on its surface. They reached out, trying to grab the edge of the ferry, but were mercilessly slapped away by the boatman Charon with his oars.
Charon sat at the stern, short and hunched over, wearing a bronze mask that revealed only his eyes, which gleamed with an eerie green light.
Who goes there?
Charon's voice was hoarse and unclear, and the oars stirred the river water, creating ripples: "The forbidden land of the underworld, where only the dead are allowed to enter."
Winslow stepped forward and tossed the money bag to Charon.
"Her Majesty Hera of the Temple of Marriage, accompanied by two divine attendants, requests an audience with Hades, the god of the underworld. Is this enough to buy three tickets?"
Charon caught the money bag, weighed it in his hand, and a hint of surprise flashed in his eyes beneath the bronze mask.
He was silent for a moment, then slowly rowed the boat closer to the shore: "Come on up."
"But remember, in Hell, even gods cannot do as they please. Lord Hades... has not seen a living being in a long time. He hates you self-righteous gods the most."
Doreen and Winslow followed Hera onto the ferry, the deck creaking beneath their feet.
The river reeked of decay, and the spirits in the river, upon seeing them, let out mournful howls, reaching out to grab the gunwale, only to be knocked away one by one by Charon with his oars.
Winslow felt the aura of the underworld growing stronger, as if countless eyes were watching them from the darkness, eyes filled with greed, jealousy, and resentment, which chilled her to the bone.
Hera stood at the bow of the boat, staring intently at the opposite bank of the river.
A huge black palace could be vaguely seen there, its top inlaid with countless skulls, which looked particularly sinister and terrifying under the eerie blue glow of ghostly fire.
She knew that Hades must have already noticed their arrival.
"Hold on tight."
Charon's voice rang out again, and with a powerful push of the oars, the ferry slowly sailed towards the opposite bank of the River of Oblivion.
"Ahead lies Lord Hades's Palace of the Underworld."
Three-headed hellhounds roam freely at the palace entrance. Their drool drips onto the ground, scorching small black pits. Upon seeing them, they emit a low growl that makes one's eardrums ache.
Charon suddenly stopped rowing, and the bronze mask turned to Hera: "I can only take you this far. Lord Hades is not one to enjoy his peace and quiet, and your requests may not come true."
He looked up at Hera, only to find no fear in her red eyes, but rather a resolute determination to win.
As soon as the ferry touched the black rocky beach on the opposite bank, the growl of the three-headed hellhound suddenly rose, and the one on the far left pounced, its stench carrying its fangs straight at Winslow.
The blade was faster, precisely grazing the hellhound's ear and cleaving a piece of obsidian rock behind it in two.
The hellhound whimpered in pain but didn't dare to go any further, instead circling around the three of them.
Doreen shielded Winslow behind her, her eyes fixed on the Cerberus's movements, her boots crunching over the scattered bones.
"Hades, now that you know we're here, why let these beasts block our way?"
Hera's voice pierced through the growls of the hellhounds and carried deep into the palace.
The black palace gates slowly opened, and an aura colder than the River of Oblivion rushed out. Several undead guards clad in black armor emerged from behind the gate, their spears tipped with eerie green flames.
The lead guard stepped forward, his voice hollow: "Hades invites you in, but only Her Majesty Hera is permitted to enter. The two attendants must wait here."
Winslow instinctively wanted to refuse, while Doreen frowned, about to retort, but Hera stopped her with a raised hand: "Don't worry,"
Hera turned to look at them, a hint of reassurance in her red eyes: "I'll be out soon, it's almost too late."
Hades lay half-reclined on his throne, his long black robe cascading down to his ankles, his unbound ink-black hair falling to his shoulders, a few stray strands clinging to his neck, and beneath the hair on his forehead were a pair of narrow eyes, the irises a deep, icy blue as if the deepest waters of the River of Oblivion in the underworld were frozen in his eyes, and his skin a cold white as if it had never seen the sun for years.
"I wonder what the god of marriage's intentions are in repeatedly sneaking into my territory?"
The man on the obsidian throne in the center of the palace, seeing that she entered alone, kept his word and asked in a faint, insincere smile.
She looked up at the man on the throne, suppressing the urgency in her voice: "Hades, I have come here with only one request."
"Give me the key to the underworld."
The Hell of the Dead holds all the souls that died that day.
Upon hearing this, Hades's languid gaze instantly faded. It was truly intriguing that the arrogant goddess of marriage, Hera, could bow down to him.
"Oh? The gods of the sacred mountain would actually ask me for a favor? But why should I help you?"
Hades chuckled softly, a cold smile curving his thin lips. Suddenly, a dark silver chain shot out from beside the throne, its bony tip grazing Hera's hair before embedding itself in the floor tiles at her feet, scattering fine black streaks.
"Can you appease the evil spirits imprisoned in the underworld all by yourself?"
"I swear in the name of the god of marriage that the temple of the god of marriage will offer a soul-soothing ceremony to the underworld every ten years to help you cleanse your soul."
"If that's not enough, I'm willing to leave behind my divine power to help you strengthen the seal."
The hall was quiet for a moment, with only the faint growls of hellhounds coming from outside.
Hades stared at her taut jawline, a complex emotion flashing in his dark blue eyes.
He had seen Hera's invincible pride on Mount Olympus, and her sharp edge when confronting Zeus, but he had never seen her like this, with even the starlight revealing a sense of compromise.
What exactly is she seeking?
Hades retracted the chains, raised his hand and took out a black mandala engraved with the pattern of the Nether Beast from his bosom. With a flick of his finger, the mandala landed steadily in Hera's palm.
When Mandala touched her body temperature, it instantly emanated a chill, as if some underworld energy was flowing among the petals: "Take the Underworld Seal and go to the Garden of the Dead behind the palace. You must come out before dawn, or the spirits of the underworld will devour your divine power."
Hera gripped the mandala tightly, about to express her gratitude, when she heard Hades speak again, his voice as calm as the wind: "Also, the spirits in the prison will reflect your greatest fears, so don't let them trap you."
"After all, the tears of the goddess of marriage should not fall into my hell."
"This is the key to the Underworld?"
Hera clutched the mandala, her fingertips pressed against the cold petals, her voice deeper than before.
"I guess so."
Hades leaned back on his throne, his dark blue eyes half-closed, his fingers tapping lightly on the armrest beneath his black robe: "But I'm really curious, who is it that can make the God of Marriage so humble before me?"
Hearing Hades' question, the red eyes beneath the golden hair curved into a smile: "The love of my life."
"I will bring out the soul I am looking for before dawn."
Hades watched her turn away, his dark blue eyes growing even more complicated.
He suddenly spoke, his voice no longer cold, but carrying a subtle reminder: "The spirits in the Underworld are filled with resentment. Your starlight can only suppress it temporarily. If you encounter a spirit, crush a petal of a mandala; it will help you break the illusion."
"Hera, what if we can't find it?"
Hera paused, but did not turn around.
"Then keep searching until you find it."
The woman nodded slightly, and her slender figure quickly disappeared behind the hall.
Silence returned to the hall. Hades raised his hand and summoned a necromancer, his voice regaining the majesty of the Lord of the Underworld: "Let her two attendants in from outside. Follow her and don't let her die in the Garden of the Dead."
After the guard bowed and withdrew, Hades stared at the empty palace gate, a wisp of dark, nether energy condensing at his fingertips, and muttered to himself, "What kind of spirit could make you fight so desperately?"
Hera arrived at the Garden of the Dead behind the palace, stretched out a mandala in mid-air, recited a divine oracle, and a rift was forcibly torn open in the air. She stepped into the rift.
Before them lay an endless, gray plain, where countless souls wandered like wisps of mist. There were human sobs and the mournful cries of livestock, and even the air itself was thick with an impenetrable despair.
The Hell of the Dead is home to souls from all over the world, humans and animals—anyone who has died resides here.
She tried her best to calm herself down and not panic. Hera repeatedly told herself that there was no time for grief.
If she falls into complete grief, she will lose her completely.
Her body is broken, she's dead, it doesn't matter. She has to find her soul. As long as she finds Li Jia's soul, she has a way to bring her back to life.
After all things die, they are constantly reincarnated, their memories washed away, and they start anew.
Hera had made up her mind. It didn't matter. She liked everything—men, women, animals—as long as she could come back to life. It didn't matter if she didn't remember her; she would make her fall in love with her again.
Fate is given by heaven, but destiny is earned by oneself.
It all depends on human effort.
She will never let go.
When Winslow and Doreen burst in, Hera was standing on the plain, looking down into the distance, where countless gray-black spirits drifted like rootless dandelions.
"Your Majesty, how do we find Li Jia's soul?"
Winslow, suffocating with resentment, said anxiously, "There are too many spirits here. What if we haven't found them yet..."
"So we have to hurry."
Hera interrupted her, held the mandala in her palm up to her eyes, and took out the Judgment Sword, making a clean cut on her wrist.
"Your Majesty, you mean..."
As blood trickled down Hera's wrist and dripped onto the petals of the datura flower, the once-cold petals suddenly trembled.
The flower's core greedily sucked up the divine blood, and the petals unfurled at a speed visible to the naked eye, growing from the size of a fingertip to half an arm's length, with dark purple patterns spreading across the petals.
"Your Majesty! Your divine blood will deplete your divine power!"
Doreen cried out and stepped forward, trying to press on Hera's bleeding wrist, but Hera raised her hand to stop her.
Hera's face paled slightly: "Li Jia's body contains my blood. I need to let the mandrake absorb my blood; this flower can sense it."
"The more you inhale, the stronger your sensory abilities become."
yes.
They were officially married, a legitimate couple, a match made in heaven.
Her body still bears her insignia, and in the deep palace remain her little trinkets, her little blanket, her swing...
She can't.
How could she give all of this up?
The blood made the datura flower burp, but it still yielded nothing.
She wasn't in this hellish place. She had searched inside and out, but there wasn't a trace of Li Jia's soul.
As the first rays of dawn shone through the cracks, Doreen looked at the god standing on the plain like an ice sculpture, then at Winslow, who was crying his eyes out beside her, and felt a headache coming on.
"Your Majesty, it's almost dawn."
Doreen's voice was filled with barely concealed worry as she glanced at the gradually whitening sky behind her: "The King of the Underworld said that if we don't get out before dawn, the resentment of the Underworld will completely block the exit..."
The red starlight flickered intensely in Hera's palm, and the sound of the crack closing grew ever closer.
Hera raised her hand and pressed the mandala between her eyebrows. The flower, which had absorbed divine blood, instantly bloomed with a dazzling light. Dark purple patterns spread down her forehead and wrapped around her wrists, as if trying to drain her divine power from the root.
"Your Majesty! What are you going to do?"
As soon as Winslow exclaimed, the starlight surrounding Hera suddenly surged, then instantly contracted inward, pouring into the mandala flower.
Her golden, tousled hair began to turn frosty white, starting with a few strands, like snow being stained by the cold winds of the underworld. Then the white spread at a visible speed, creeping down the strands of hair, and soon half of her golden hair had turned silver-white.
"In the name of the god of marriage, I offer my divine power to open the gates of the underworld; may the gates of hell be forever open to me."
Hera's voice was hoarse from the loss of divine power.
The petals of the datura flower detached from the stem, transforming into streaks of light that flew towards the depths of the underworld.
The ground began to shake violently, and the crack that was originally just one line continued to extend across the plain. Countless beams of eerie blue light seeped out from the ground and gradually condensed into a huge door.
That is the gate to the underworld that never closes, and the mandala patterns carved on the door are slowly turning as Hera's divine power is poured into it.
Doreen lunged forward to grab her, but was repelled by an invisible force: "Your Majesty! You will exhaust your divine power!"
As she looked at Hera's long hair, which was rapidly turning white, tears welled up instantly. The golden hair that once symbolized the glory of the goddess of marriage was now as white as snow, with only a few strands of pale gold remaining at the ends.
Hera did not turn around, but simply held the rings in her palm.
She could clearly feel the divine power draining from her limbs and bones. With each drop lost, the whiteness of her hair deepened, and even the red in her eyes dimmed.
But when she saw that the Gate of the Underworld had completely stabilized and filled the crack, a faint smile appeared on her lips: "Now... you won't be trapped here anymore. I will find you."
"I will wait for you, until the day I can see you again."
Finally, the last bit of divine power was injected into the Gate of the Underworld, and his white hair fell to his shoulders, like a layer of frost that could not be melted away.
She staggered back a step, nearly falling if Winslow hadn't caught her in time.
In the distant Hades Palace, Hades suddenly stood up, his dark underworld energy churning violently in his palm.
He gazed at the eternally open gate in the direction of the Underworld and muttered, "Insane... utterly insane! To exchange one's own divine power for the Eternal Gate of the Underworld... utterly foolish!"
"Your Majesty, shall we go out first?"
Doreen looked at her pale face and said in a trembling voice, "The Gate of the Underworld has been opened. There will be opportunities to find Li Jia in the future."
Hera nodded, her gaze still fixed on the depths of the Gates of Hades.
There, black mist surged, but there was no longer a trace of spiritual energy. Yet she insisted on staring at it, as if Li Jia's spirit would float out of the mist at any moment and smile as she asked her to call her "sister."
With each step she took, she felt a subtle divine power seeping out of her body, and even the starlight around her dimmed to the point of being almost invisible.
As soon as she stepped out of the crevice, the eerie winds of the Garden of the Dead swept over her, carrying petals with them. Hera instinctively raised her hand to block them, but then caught sight of the datura in her palm. The flower, which had been saturated with divine blood, was now wilted and wrinkled, its dark purple patterns faded, leaving only a few withered petals hanging on the stem, as if it were lamenting her loss.
She gently pinched the remaining petals, and they turned into powder, scattering in the wind.
"Your Majesty the King of the Underworld!"
Doreen suddenly spoke up, and Hera looked up to see Hades standing on the stone steps not far away. His dark robes fluttered in the wind, and his dark blue eyes were full of complex emotions as he stared at her white hair. The dark energy at his fingertips was trembling slightly.
"Do you know the consequences of sacrificing divine power to open the gates of the underworld?"
Hades' voice was a few decibels deeper than before: "It's truly laughable that the mighty Goddess of Marriage would make herself so pathetic for the sake of a mere mortal."
Hera smiled faintly: "What do these things matter as long as I can find my wife?"
She shook the wedding rings in her palm; the inscriptions on the rings still glowed faintly: "Our marriage contract is still valid; I will find her eventually."
Hades looked at her like this and remained silent for a long time before raising his hand to summon a wisp of nether energy, which gently landed on Hera's shoulder.
The warmth of the nether energy temporarily stabilized her lost divine power.
Hera was slightly taken aback and was about to say that it was unnecessary, but Hades had already turned and walked towards the Underworld Palace, leaving only the words: "Don't die too soon. I haven't seen the day you find her yet. I want to see what kind of person can make you do this."
Winslow looked at Hades's retreating figure, then at the aura of the underworld on Hera's shoulder, and whispered, "Your Majesty, Hades... doesn't seem so cold and terrifying after all?"
Hera didn't speak, but just looked down at the wedding rings, her white hair being lifted by the wind and brushing against the patterns on the rings.
The gates of the underworld have opened; no matter where you are in the world, I will find you.
No matter how far away, no matter how long, I will wait for you to come back.
Even if there's no result, I'll still wait for you.
I'm waiting for the day we meet again.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
