CHAPTER VIII– AT THE ISLAND OF LEMNOS

CHAPTER VIII– AT THE ISLAND OF LEMNOS

Hades found Aphrodite waiting for him on the steps of her mansion on the island of Lemnos. It was a beautiful home, built by Hephaestus himself, a mix of modern lines, intricate filigree, and walls of windows that offered a view of each glorious sunrise and enchanting sunset.

This island was a sacred place for Hephaestus. It was where he landed when Hera cast him off Olympus. As a result of the fall, he’d broken his leg, and the people of Lemnos cared for him. Even after he was invited to return, the god preferred to stay, as he had built a forge, taught the people ironwork, and gained worshippers. Hades always considered the fact that the God of Fire was willing to share this island with Aphrodite a sign of his love for her, but he had never told her his thoughts—she probably would not listen, anyway.

“Come to surrender?” Aphrodite asked. She wore a dress that looked like the inside of a seashell and a seafoam robe rimmed with flowing feathers. Her golden hair gleamed, cresting like waves down her back.

“I have come to speak to your husband,” Hades replied.

“Do not call him that,” she snapped, her eyes flashed with anger.

“Why? Has Zeus granted your divorce?”

“He refused,” she said, and looked away toward the ocean, where the sun hung low in the sky. She paused a moment, and Hades recognized the silence for what it was—time for her to compose herself. Whatever she was about to share was difficult for her. “Even after Hephaestus agreed it was best.”

Fucking Hephaestus, Hades thought to himself. The God of Fire was worse than him at saying the wrong things.

“He expressed not a shred of anger when I told him what I’d done,” Aphrodite continued, looking at Hades again. “He works a forge all day and has not an ounce of fire within.”

“Have you considered that he wasn’t angry because he expected it?”

Aphrodite glared, and Hades explained.

“You admitted yourself you’ve never had a marriage, Aphrodite. Why would you expect Hephaestus to mourn what he never had?”

“What do you know, Hades? You’ve never had a marriage, either.”

Hades suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. All of his conversations with Aphrodite ended with her flippantly rejecting his opinion or advice and throwing his own loneliness back in his face.

Why did I try?

“Hephaestus is in his lab,” Aphrodite said. She turned, bare feet moving over the marble steps.

Hades trailed behind her. She did not enter her home, but instead, turned down a walkway that cut through a garden full of bright, tropical flowers and swaths of ornamental grasses. The path lead to a glass bridge that connected the mansion to a volcanic island where Hephaestus kept his shop, carved from the largest mountain.

The workshop contained a forge on the lower level and a lab on the upper level, where he experimented with technology and enchantments. Over the years, the God of Fire had created armor and weapons, palaces and thrones, chains and chariots—and people, among the most famous being Pandora, who he molded and sculpted from clay. She would later be used as a scapegoat, a way for Zeus to punish mankind. Hades had never asked Hephaestus about her fate, but he had a feeling it haunted the god to this day.

“He’s been working on a project. Bees,” Aphrodite said as she walked, and there was a note of admiration in her voice. “They are mechanical, disease resistant.”

Bees were dying at an alarming rate for various reasons—parasites and pesticides, poor nutrition, and environment. The latter had more to do with Demeter than anything, as the Earth tended to suffer when her mood was dark. Hades felt it was a strategic move on the part of the goddess, as a loss of bees meant less food production, which resulted in a reliance on the Goddess of Harvest for healthy crops.

Hephaestus’ creations would ensure mortals—and bees—were not at the mercy of a goddess. Conversely, his creations could be seen as an act of war against the goddess.

“Did Hephaestus tell you this?” Hades asked, curious, because if so, that meant they were communicating.

“No,” Aphrodite said, hesitating for a moment, as if she wanted to say something but stayed quiet.

“So, you were spying?” Hades questioned, raising a knowing brow.

Aphrodite pursed her lips. “How else am I supposed to learn what my husband is up to?”

“You could…ask,” Hades suggested.

“And receive a one-word reply? No, thank you.”

“What did you expect to learn while spying?” Hades asked.

A heavy silence followed his question. Finally, she answered, “I guess I thought he might be cheating.”

Hades could not help it, he paused to laugh. Aphrodite whirled to face him.

“It isn’t funny!” she snapped. “If he isn’t fucking me, he’s fucking someone.”

Hades raised a brow. “Is that what you discovered while you spied?”

Aphrodite’s shoulders fell, and she looked away. “No.”

She seemed disappointed. Like she might have felt better if Hephaestus was distracted by women rather than things.

“Hmm,” Hades hummed, and Aphrodite gave him a bruising look before they continued to the entrance of Hephaestus’ lab.

“The cyborgs will take you to him,” she said.

Hades narrowed his eyes, suspicious of her quick exit. “You’re not going to leave just to spy, are you?”

Aphrodite rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “I have better things to do, Hades.”

He considered challenging her reply, but decided against it, stepping around her and entering Hephaestus’ lab alone.

Inside, he found a cavernous room full of Hephaestus’ inventions—shields, spears, armor, helms, pieces of detailed ironwork, unfinished thrones, robotic humans and horses. At the center of it all, working with his back bent over a wooden table, was the God of Fire. Despite Hephaestus’ modern inventions, his work area and overall aesthetic paid homage to his ancient roots. His blond beard was long, his matching hair pulled back with a leather strap. He worked shirtless, exposing the scars on his skin, and wore a set of trousers that came to mid-calf.

“Lord Hades,” Hephaestus said as he approached, though the god continued to work, soldering a circuit board. Hephaestus was probably the only god who used titles with other gods out of respect instead of disdain.

After a few more minutes of work, Hephaestus put his tools down and pushed a set of clear glasses back on his head. He stood and looked at Hades with a pair of deep-set grey eyes. Hephaestus was huge, his physique chiseled like a marble statue. After landing on Lemnos and breaking his leg, it had been amputated. In its place was a prosthetic of his own design. It was gold but minimalistic, made of geometric shapes. Even not being able-bodied, he was probably the strongest physically, and definitely the smartest, of the gods.

“Hephaestus,” Hades nodded, looking at the metal and wires scattered across his table. Despite already knowing what these pieces were for, he asked, “What are you working on?”

“Nothing,” the god said quickly.

It did not surprise Hades that Hephaestus would keep quiet about his work. He had never been chatty, but after his exile and the scrutiny he had faced from other gods due to his scarred face and disability, he had become even more quiet.

“It cannot be nothing,” Hades said. “It does not look like nothing.”

Hephaestus blinked at the god and then answered, “A project.” He cleared his throat. “What can I do for you?”

Hades averted his eyes, looking around the room as he spoke. “I need your expertise. I need a weapon. One that will subdue violence and encourage truth.”

Hephaestus offered a hint of a smile. “Sounds like a riddle,” he said.

“You haven’t heard the last part,” Hades said. “It’s for an Olympian.”

Hephaestus raised a brow, but just as Hades suspected, the God of Fire did not ask questions.

“I can create something,” he said. “Come back in a day.”

There was silence for a moment, and then Hades said, “You know Aphrodite spies on you.”

Hades felt like a gossip. He was not sure why he was telling Hephaestus about Aphrodite’s secret. Maybe he felt like it was revenge for her bargain. Maybe he was hopeful it would encourage conversation between them, except that Hephaestus did not react to the news, his expression passive, disinterested.

“She is suspicious,” he said.

“Or curious,” Hades countered, because it was true.

“I suppose she can be both,” he replied, turning his back on Hades and focusing again on his work. Hades waited despite the silence, and finally, Hephaestus spoke in a quiet, coarse voice.

“She asked Zeus for a divorce. He will not grant it.”

“Is that what you want?” Hades asked. “A divorce?”

He watched the god’s profile—the way his jaw clenched and his fingers curled at the sound of the word. The God of Fire looked at Hades then, his brows drawn together, and there was a sincerity within his eyes Hades had never perceived before.

“I want her to be happy.”

***

Hades appeared at the center of a perfectly green meadow on the island of Sicily, where fifty pure-white cows grazed. A few feet away, Helios’s daughters, Phaethusa and Lampetie, slept beneath a fig tree, their wheezing breaths disrupting the silence of the night.

Hades had to admit, he felt a little guilty that these two would incur Helios’ wrath come morning, but not enough to leave their father unpunished for his vitriol.

Just as Hades began to select the best of Helios’ cattle to take with him to the Underworld, his phone rang.

It never rang.

Something is wrong.

“Yes?” he answered quickly, despite the chance he would wake the two sisters.

It was Ilias.

“My lord,” he said. “Lady Persephone is missing.”

He had never felt such a terrifying sense of dread. A thousand emotions converged upon him at once—rage and fear and alarm. He wanted to demand to know why Ilias had not watched her better, wanted to know where he had looked, wanted to threaten to end his life if he found her in any condition other than pristine.

But he knew Ilias, and by now, he knew Persephone.

Beautiful, defiant Persephone.

She was not one to obey, especially when told.

“I will be there in seconds,” Hades replied and hung up.

There was a beat of silence where Hades wrestled with every demon inside him. This fear was irrational, but it told him something important.

If the Fates did take her away, the world would not survive.

After a moment, he looked up, observing the white cows and spoke.

“I had hoped to take my time selecting only the best of you to join me in my realm, but it seems I am out of time.”

When Hades vanished, so did every cow in the meadow.