BOOK TWO
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Flori in the Underworld, Part 2
Flori introduced herself. “We already know who you are,” the girl said.
“And what you want,” said the boy
“We have the sight,” said the girl.
Flori asked them about what Persephone had meant. How could they help with her problem?
“We make things forget,” said the boy.
“We can make you forget anything for a time,” the girl said.
“Even how to live,” punctuated the boy. Flori noticed her hand had started losing its shape.
“Please stop!” she shouted. They did. Flori’s hand returned to normal. “I see. Will you come with me?”
“We do,” said the girl.
“That’s the way it happens,” said the boy.
“We’ll meet you by the River Styx when the time comes.”
“Have three coins ready.”
“You’ll know the moment.”
“You’ll be pleased.”
Flori left the twins and made three new coins for their crossing. On her way to get a message to Jove to bring more dragons, she found herself suddenly airborne! Hades had swooped down on his chariot and picked her up the way he once had with Persephone. Flori transformed her arm into a sword and cut the god; she fell back to the Underworld floor. Invigorated, Hades once again lifted her up, but this time held her to his armor so she could neither cut him nor escape. He brought the gold girl back to his home, and there they engaged in a great battle. Hades couldn’t believe this girl’s abilities! Her strength and skills rivaled his, and she did not tire. They fought for hours, each getting the upper hand then losing it to the other dozens of times. Eventually, Hades called a truce.
“How surprising!” he laughed. “That a girl like you could take on a god like me. I concede victory to you, golden warrior. You have beaten me in battle. Let us shake and be friends.” Hades extended his hand to Flori, who, judging his surrender to be sincere, took it. The moment she did, though, a strange feeling moved up her arm. She watched as her hard, gold skin magically gave way to soft, white flesh. The feeling continued to her chest, ran up and down her back slowly, then shot shot like lightning through the rest of her body. With that final violent jerk, Flori was human again. She gasped at the shock of it, then prepared to defend herself against another assault from the god, however he made no moves of the kind. When she felt convinced of his continued surrender, Flori stepped guardedly to the mirror and took in her own reflection. Slowly, she ran her fingers over her pink cheeks and through her red curls. She cried. The tears tasted blissfully of salt. The Underworld musk filled her nose, and she breathed it out in sweet singing. She pinched her own arm, and marveled at the sting of it. Great heaves rumbled her middle, now filled with organs, and she released a laugh so inexperienced it turned to a sob. Hades lifted her up into his arms. She almost protested, she knew she should, but he was warm, so very warm, and she felt like she was in a trance. He laid her on the bed, confident he would now win the war between them when, suddenly, Persephone busted down the door and shot an arrow into her husband’s shoulder!
Flori came to her senses just in time to dodge the arrow meant for her. Hades wrestled his wife to the ground, and Flori took her chance to escape. She ran down towards the River Styx, in awe of the burn in her muscles, past the three-headed Cerberus, whom someone had already distracted with cake, and saw the Twins of Atropos waiting for her on the bank. Charon ferried them across the river, and Jove met them when they landed, flanked by two other dragons. When Flori asked how he knew to bring them, he said he had received a message about it weeks ago – he assumed it had come from her. Together, the six of them flew back to the world of the living.
“And what you want,” said the boy
“We have the sight,” said the girl.
Flori asked them about what Persephone had meant. How could they help with her problem?
“We make things forget,” said the boy.
“We can make you forget anything for a time,” the girl said.
“Even how to live,” punctuated the boy. Flori noticed her hand had started losing its shape.
“Please stop!” she shouted. They did. Flori’s hand returned to normal. “I see. Will you come with me?”
“We do,” said the girl.
“That’s the way it happens,” said the boy.
“We’ll meet you by the River Styx when the time comes.”
“Have three coins ready.”
“You’ll know the moment.”
“You’ll be pleased.”
Flori left the twins and made three new coins for their crossing. On her way to get a message to Jove to bring more dragons, she found herself suddenly airborne! Hades had swooped down on his chariot and picked her up the way he once had with Persephone. Flori transformed her arm into a sword and cut the god; she fell back to the Underworld floor. Invigorated, Hades once again lifted her up, but this time held her to his armor so she could neither cut him nor escape. He brought the gold girl back to his home, and there they engaged in a great battle. Hades couldn’t believe this girl’s abilities! Her strength and skills rivaled his, and she did not tire. They fought for hours, each getting the upper hand then losing it to the other dozens of times. Eventually, Hades called a truce.
“How surprising!” he laughed. “That a girl like you could take on a god like me. I concede victory to you, golden warrior. You have beaten me in battle. Let us shake and be friends.” Hades extended his hand to Flori, who, judging his surrender to be sincere, took it. The moment she did, though, a strange feeling moved up her arm. She watched as her hard, gold skin magically gave way to soft, white flesh. The feeling continued to her chest, ran up and down her back slowly, then shot shot like lightning through the rest of her body. With that final violent jerk, Flori was human again. She gasped at the shock of it, then prepared to defend herself against another assault from the god, however he made no moves of the kind. When she felt convinced of his continued surrender, Flori stepped guardedly to the mirror and took in her own reflection. Slowly, she ran her fingers over her pink cheeks and through her red curls. She cried. The tears tasted blissfully of salt. The Underworld musk filled her nose, and she breathed it out in sweet singing. She pinched her own arm, and marveled at the sting of it. Great heaves rumbled her middle, now filled with organs, and she released a laugh so inexperienced it turned to a sob. Hades lifted her up into his arms. She almost protested, she knew she should, but he was warm, so very warm, and she felt like she was in a trance. He laid her on the bed, confident he would now win the war between them when, suddenly, Persephone busted down the door and shot an arrow into her husband’s shoulder!
Flori came to her senses just in time to dodge the arrow meant for her. Hades wrestled his wife to the ground, and Flori took her chance to escape. She ran down towards the River Styx, in awe of the burn in her muscles, past the three-headed Cerberus, whom someone had already distracted with cake, and saw the Twins of Atropos waiting for her on the bank. Charon ferried them across the river, and Jove met them when they landed, flanked by two other dragons. When Flori asked how he knew to bring them, he said he had received a message about it weeks ago – he assumed it had come from her. Together, the six of them flew back to the world of the living.
Sasha watched the heartfelt reunion between the now inexplicably/disappointingly human Flori and the Prince from a distance. In a minute he would walk over to her with that look on his face, that pathetic hopefulness that this time she would be her old self again, the person he remembered from before. She would not. In fact, she would act with added indifference to make it clear where she stood. After all, he kept her a prisoner here.
When she had first woke up after being “rescued” from the battle ring in Holder’s Deep, Sasha attempted to escape this place over and over again before finally accepting its futility. With Orion around policing her thoughts, she could neither leave nor do anything to silence Orion. She turned destructive, thinking if she proved too much of a liability, the dragons might opt for kicking her out, but they just put her in chains. They held a meeting to discuss “the Sasha situation.” Some argued that as a thinking, free person, if she didn’t want to stay, she shouldn’t have to stay. The others argued that she knew too much; if the Queen ever got hold of her, their secrets wouldn’t be safe. Sasha petitioned that she might go back to Reeza where she would be happy and safe from the Queen and where she might convince Reezans to fight on the side of good or whatever. In the end, everyone agreed that the Prince should decide her fate, and he elected to keep her near. When Reeza fell to the Queen the next year, the dragons congratulated him on his wisdom. Sasha cut herself off from everyone for a while after that, practicing her swordplay day and night in the loneliest part of the valley she could find. Then, the refugees started coming, members of the rebellion found out and displaced due to the Queens relentless manhunt, kept in the Valley until they could be relocated elsewhere. One day, a group of refugee children asked Sasha if she would teach them to fight. She agreed grudgingly, but this activity soon became her favorite part of every day. She created a mini-Reeza among the visiting youths, complete with battle ring competitions and all, though the watchful eyes of uptight parents prevented her from placing the children in any real danger, making her use padding, armor and blunted swords like pansies. Despite that, Sasha enjoyed the admiration and the touch of home.
The Prince called out to her as she headed to meet her students, but instead of his usual fawning tones, his voice crackled with seriousness. “You must cancel training today, Sasha. Come with me.” She preferred it when he spoke to her this way. “We’ve lost contact with Jon,” he continued as they moved. “He missed his last two drops. We think she found him out.” Since their arrival in the Valley, Sasha had only ever heard the Prince refer to the Queen as ‘she’ or ‘her’; absolutely never as ‘my mother.’
“That shouldn’t affect us though, right?” Sasha asked. “He doesn’t know our location.”
“No, but if she interrogated him, she now knows everything he told us, and will try to change her plans.”
“Don’t be a pessimist. He may not have been interrogated. He might just be dead.” The Prince shuddered at this sentence. Sasha smirked at his shudder.
When she had first woke up after being “rescued” from the battle ring in Holder’s Deep, Sasha attempted to escape this place over and over again before finally accepting its futility. With Orion around policing her thoughts, she could neither leave nor do anything to silence Orion. She turned destructive, thinking if she proved too much of a liability, the dragons might opt for kicking her out, but they just put her in chains. They held a meeting to discuss “the Sasha situation.” Some argued that as a thinking, free person, if she didn’t want to stay, she shouldn’t have to stay. The others argued that she knew too much; if the Queen ever got hold of her, their secrets wouldn’t be safe. Sasha petitioned that she might go back to Reeza where she would be happy and safe from the Queen and where she might convince Reezans to fight on the side of good or whatever. In the end, everyone agreed that the Prince should decide her fate, and he elected to keep her near. When Reeza fell to the Queen the next year, the dragons congratulated him on his wisdom. Sasha cut herself off from everyone for a while after that, practicing her swordplay day and night in the loneliest part of the valley she could find. Then, the refugees started coming, members of the rebellion found out and displaced due to the Queens relentless manhunt, kept in the Valley until they could be relocated elsewhere. One day, a group of refugee children asked Sasha if she would teach them to fight. She agreed grudgingly, but this activity soon became her favorite part of every day. She created a mini-Reeza among the visiting youths, complete with battle ring competitions and all, though the watchful eyes of uptight parents prevented her from placing the children in any real danger, making her use padding, armor and blunted swords like pansies. Despite that, Sasha enjoyed the admiration and the touch of home.
The Prince called out to her as she headed to meet her students, but instead of his usual fawning tones, his voice crackled with seriousness. “You must cancel training today, Sasha. Come with me.” She preferred it when he spoke to her this way. “We’ve lost contact with Jon,” he continued as they moved. “He missed his last two drops. We think she found him out.” Since their arrival in the Valley, Sasha had only ever heard the Prince refer to the Queen as ‘she’ or ‘her’; absolutely never as ‘my mother.’
“That shouldn’t affect us though, right?” Sasha asked. “He doesn’t know our location.”
“No, but if she interrogated him, she now knows everything he told us, and will try to change her plans.”
“Don’t be a pessimist. He may not have been interrogated. He might just be dead.” The Prince shuddered at this sentence. Sasha smirked at his shudder.
Our story continues in Chapter Sixteen...