Hades swore under his breath as he charged down a dark passage toward his throne room. Of course it was Demeter's doing! He wasn't threatened by even Zeus' wrath. She knew he would be moved only by the plight of mortals.

Damn it! A famine? A plague? What had the awful woman done?

He turned the corner and looked out over the dais where their thrones sat. Persephone was gone. Asphodel stretched out before him, absolutely replete to the brim with Shades. Thousands upon thousands of them, stretching in an enormous procession all the way to the bank of the Styx, and an equal amount on the other side, awaiting the Boatman. As far as the eye could see. The young, the old. Tiny babies being carried by their ghostly mothers. He steadied himself against the doorway, the horror of the sight crippling him.

It was so much worse than he could have ever imagined. His breath came quick. Anger and revulsion gripped him in equal measure. So this is how she would win her daughter back from the Underworld? She would lay waste to her own Realm? Her own people?

Someone touched his shoulder gently. Persephone. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and her face was pale and drawn. He scooped her into his arms as she let out a sob. "I spoke to one of them, before he drank from the Nepenthe. A great famine. The sun won't shine. They say it's so cold the rain falls frozen to the ground. Everyone is dying." She said into his chest.

"I know, Persephone."

"It's Demeter, isn't it?"

"Yes." She looked up at him, angry. "How could she do this? How could she do this to our people? They love her! Depend on her for life!"

"I don't know." She knew, of course, what her mother wanted. Hades' hand sank into her hair, and he rested his chin on the top of her head.

"Zeus will be here soon. He's already sent his messenger ahead."

"What do we do?"

Hades had no answer for her. They stood in silence, in a sea of the dead.