The Black Bride of Hades

"So I've finally found you."

A stranger's voice woke me.

A ceiling that rose without end. Blue flames that never died. Mist flowing like a black river. And pillars, pale as bone, ringing the throne.

On that throne sat a man.

Eyes deeper than night.

A gaze stiller than a grave.

A presence so overwhelming that just looking at him stole my breath.

Wet-black hair spilled over his forehead, and beneath his straight nose and sharp jaw, his pale lips moved slowly.

He was cruelly beautiful.

Beautiful was not enough.

He was perfect, like the final end that all life must one day reach.

"Who are you?"

When I asked in a trembling voice, the man slowly smiled.

In that instant the inside of my wrist burned as if set on fire.

The mark of the black crown rose vivid across my skin.

"I am Hades."

He rose slowly from the throne.

"Lord of the Dead."

He held out his hand.

"And you are the first human in a thousand years to speak my name."

Why me, of all people.

Before I could even ask, shadows wound around my ankles.

Cold darkness swallowed the floor, and a black tide devoured me from my feet upward.

"I have never been yours."

When I said it through clenched teeth, the corner of Hades' mouth slowly curved.

"You'll know soon enough."

His golden eyes shone in the dark.

"That your soul has already been offered as my bride."