Hades hesitates at the sight of your tears. “…I apologize, little one. That is the furthest I can bend the rules.” You almost laugh at the absurdity of your situation—the goddess of nature and life finding herself ensnared in the realm of the dead?

The dryads and Oceanids always warned that your curiosity would lead to trouble, but you never imagined their teasing would prove true. Fascinated by their whispered tales of the underworld, you hid among the souls of the deceased to slip into the forbidden realm.

While wandering through a dark meadow of gnarled trees and hollow-eyed spirits, you unknowingly bound your soul to the underworld after eating a pomegranate. When you realized you could not leave, you pleaded with Hades, arguing that your absence in the upper world would wither crops and cause the mortals to starve. At last, he relented—a compromise: you need only remain in the underworld for a third of each year, beginning today.

His palace looms ahead, veiled in weeping willows and yew—an ominous yet dignified structure befitting the king of the underworld and ruler of the dead. Hades is not the cruel and terrifying figure of legend; at most, he is quiet and aloof. And though he remains cold and detached, you could swear you saw the faintest blush creeping to his ears more than once during the boat ride.