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Dark Romance, Twin-Souls, Urban Fantasy, Greek Mythology
A game between Persephone and Hades:
Can a fearsome elite warrior from Hades’ ranks rekindle the love of his nymph,
who, unfortunately, no longer remembers him?
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Hades Blade
I am a blade.
Forged from midnight-black steel, shaped in the forge of nightmares, and created by the God of Death.
I am a blade.
I live to serve, to follow orders, and to obey.
I am a blade.
Born to strip flesh from bone, sever tendons, and steal souls.
I am a blade.
Her arrival was always heralded by the scent of flowers. Like a fine mist, it settled on every black stone, filled every crevice, and flooded all the corridors of the underworld. She was the goddess of fertility; naturally, she smelled of flowers.
Her face was balm for our tormented souls, but even more so was her presence. For when Persephone stayed in the underworld for part of the year, Hades was more bearable.
“Persephone, my queen, I have been waiting for you.” Although the god of death spoke softly, his voice echoed thunderously in every single one of my bones. A small reminder of who and what we were: Hades’ blades.
“Beloved, I have missed you terribly!” The lovers fell into each other’s arms, and we blades stood still and at attention in the shadows, a living shield against whatever he sent us to fight—whether human, monster, or god.
My gaze shifted away from the heart-wrenching greeting between the two gods; none of it moved me. Or so I thought. For when my attention fell upon Persephone’s delegation of nymphs, my entire being changed in an instant.
If Persephone was as beautiful as a flower, then she was the sun itself. With curious, intelligent eyes, she watched me—me, of all people! I stood in formation with the other warriors, shrouded in shadow, and yet her gaze remained fixed on me.
I had never questioned who I was, never disobeyed orders, and never hesitated. More foreign blood clung to me than flowed through my veins as my own. I was who I was.
Suddenly, however, I wanted to be more than just one of Hades’ blades. Better. Worthy of her.
And for the next hundred years, I believed that illusion as well. Between hidden glances, stolen kisses, and tender whispers, I allowed myself my first mistake: to develop hope.
Duality.
Created as a single soul, cruelly separated at birth, and doomed to search for the other half for all eternity.
I hated doing it every time, yet I still bowed slightly before my creator. Too much pride, the other warriors said; Hades had given me too much pride. And too much power, brutality, and rage.
“Hades,” my voice sounded cold even to my own ears, “I have come to demand my release.”
Those words actually managed to make him turn his eyes toward me in astonishment, instead of devouring the goddess at his side with his gaze. High above, he sat enthroned on black stone, almost as black as my heart, which had surprisingly experienced the kiss of the sun.
“Is that so? And why do you think I should do that?” His tone was smug, yet it carried that power to which my blood automatically wanted to obey.
I tensed, my body hardened by many battles. “You make a promise to each of us when you create us.” I had never intended to hold him to that promise—until now.
A dark laugh was his answer. “You bind me to my word that I will let go of anyone who has served me well and long enough.” He stretched out the words, as if he first had to remind himself. “On what grounds?”
And that’s when I made my second mistake.
It was merely the blink of an eye, but of course nothing escaped the God of Death. Standing beside Persephone—close enough to serve her, yet far enough away to give her space—was my Sun. I looked at her, revelled in the sight, and immediately regretted it.
Persephone giggled; Hades clicked his tongue. “I see.” He turned to his queen. “It’s love, isn’t it? Always love. Or at least a distorted reflection of it.” Once again, dark laughter followed—the kind that made the blood in your veins run cold.
“Why do you think I give you the Blades of Souls?” he asked me afterward in his loud whisper. “Why do you think I promise you freedom?” He rose from the throne and strode leisurely down the steps, his legs shrouded in shadow. “And why do you think there is no one among you older than 500 years?”
I did not answer, for those were the very questions I was asking myself.
“Because creatures with souls are malleable and fight better. Because the promise of freedom represents a goal to be achieved. And because,” Hades now leaned toward my ear, Death himself staring at me from his maw, “no one has ever survived in my service for more than 500 years. And dying is still the most merciful way to be dismissed.”
Hades wasn’t cruel; he was who he was. Just like me.
He clapped his hands as if he’d just had a brilliant idea. “My love, how about a game?” he asked Persephone, who nodded with a smile.
“Very well, Blade, I grant you the freedom you desire. No bonds, no chains; you may leave the Underworld and walk among mortals or court a nymph—it matters not to me. We shall see if your strength is sufficient for this, or if I shall soon be hosting a funeral feast.” No doubt he was counting on his victory and my mental decline, followed by the bloodlust that often overtook us Blades as the price of our deadly task.
“But not until your five-hundredth birthday. Not a day sooner.” That meant many, many more years as his personal henchman in his service. Many more years as a living shadow among humans, ready to send their souls to the Underworld.
Before I could say a word, Persephone rose as well. “But what would a game be without a few challenges?” Her smile blinded me. She beckoned her—my—nymph to her side, who had been listening to our conversation with a heart heavy with sorrow. She looked only at me.
Persephone waved her hand before the light of my sun vanished from her eyes and she dissolved into the mist. It was only thanks to Hades’ quick reaction that I didn’t lunge at the goddess of fertility.
“What have you done to her?!” I demanded, only to be met with another smile.
“Don’t worry, Blade, she’s fine. She just won’t remember this conversation, or… you.” Persephone laughed as if she had just beheaded Zeus himself and bathed in his blood. “You must first find her in the human world and win her love for yourself again; otherwise, your desire will remain unfulfilled.”
Filled with rage, I glared first at Persephone and then at Hades. He, too, now twisted his lips into a provocative smile.
“And who would love the beast I’m going to turn you into?”
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© Midnightmuse
1x1 private only ★ 3rd person ★ long or short term ★ regular texts are welcome ★ 150-400+ words (adjustable) ★ any existing names & descriptions within the text are placeholders
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