Young Writers Society

Lykos gave Annabeth a shaky smile.

"I'm okay," he said. It was a lie. He was nowhere near okay. He didn't know how to describe whatever was going on right now, but it felt like some kind of nightmare. This was the way that everyone thought the Underworld was supposed to be.

He glanced back at the portrait.

If it had been the right portrait, the explanation for the resemblance would have been obvious - Kazimir would have never asked if the man was his father. But it was the wrong portrait, and Lykos couldn't help but be aware of all of the differences. No one would ever think that he...

He let out a tiny, quiet sigh.

He couldn't hide it any longer.

"That's...Hades," he confirmed. "What Hades is supposed to be like, anyways. The portrait has been altered. I don't know how or why, but..."

He looked back at the group, the pit growing in his stomach. He could only hope that they would believe him - he certainly didn't seem to fit into this strange version of the place he called home.

"I lied earlier," he admitted. "When I said that I wasn't from here. I...technically was born somewhere else, but the Underworld is my home. Lykos is just a name I use when I want to pretend to be human - but I haven't exactly been doing a good job with that."

He took a deep breath.

"I'm Hades," he finally revealed.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Annabeth gaped at Lykos. He's Hades? As in, God of the Underworld, Hades?

She didn't want to believe it, but Lykos and the portrait did look similar.

But, the Greek Gods couldn't be real.

You thought monsters weren't real, either, she thought. Annabeth squared her shoulders.

"I wish you were lying," she said. "But, it seems too good to be true. So, you're the king of the Underworld, I guess."

Annabeth bit her lip.

"That probably sounds sarcastic, but I do believe you."

Kazimir didn't know the significance of Hades. He couldn't remember anything from school, and he didn't know if he should. Everything in his brain was like the hum of an old air conditioner, loud and deafening.

Wasn't there some place to sit down? A bench? A chair? Something?

He stared up at the portrait with his eyes half-open and groaned.

"Was this painted before your makeover?"

Maggie observed the painting with a tentative look of curiosity that masked their true horror.

Hades...

No, it couldn't be. He couldn't be, certainly. The dreamlike state they were in, the warningless shifting of reality and the nightmare-like fear that seemed to linger in the very air all pointed far more clearly to this being a trick. A dream, if a convincing one. Just a flicker of activity in their unconscious mind.

'Never assume you're just dreaming, baby enby,' mama's voice rings in their head, gently commanding as it always was, The spirits of the old world visit you in ways that look like dreams. Never dismiss them, baby, they can offer guidance and warnings.'

Mama was often wrong, especially as she got older, but Maggie tried to follow her advice anyway, just in case she was right. Just in case mama really did have some wisdom to share in her final days, in case that wisdom was merely buried in nonsense and meaningless words.

"How has the painting changed?" they asked Hades, turning their gaze from the painting to him.

As always, Elias wasn't sure what was going on, exactly; but he knew that Lykos was deeply bothered by the revelation that he was Hades. He looked at the painting, then at Lykos-Hades, then at Annabeth when she mentioned him being a king, then at Kazimir when he asked if he had a makeover, then at person-who-shall-not-be-named-because-they-didn't-give-him-a-massage (but also because Elias still does not know their name), then back the painting.

He titled his head and looked at it quizzically. That guy? Hades? King? Underworld? Hmmm...

Nope, made no sense.

"So, uhhh," Elias said, adding on the slew of questions piling on to Lykos. "Should we call you Hades then, or..?

Because Lykos was clearly having an identity crisis.... right? Right?!

"I wish you were lying," Annabeth had said. Hades tried to ignore how the pit in his stomach grew when she said that. Annabeth wasn't from his time, but she still wished that he wasn't himself. Was he still unable to break free of the man in the painting in the future?

Kazimir had groaned; Hades tried not to think of the reason.

And there were the three remaining questions: two about the painting, and one about himself. At least Elias was just asking him about what name he preferred. That was a little bit of comfort, even though it barely helped with the pit gnawing at him.

He looked back at the painting.

"I never had a makeover," he said. "The painting is wrong, but..."

He bit his lip.

"...Originally, the painting was of me."

He paused, trying to clear his head and calm his nerves. It didn't really work, but he hadn't ever expected it to.

"The real me," he clarified. "My friend made it. The magic she used captured the surroundings, too, so my other friends were peeking in front the side. My niece also spilled some paint on the portrait right after it was done. None of that is there now."

He glanced back at the others. He hadn't wanted to explain this - and knew, according to the council and his brother, that he wasn't supposed to - but he really didn't have any choice at the moment. He would have to break a taboo and hope that no one else found out.

"Gods are created differently than most people think," he softly said. "We never created the universe, and we were never around before people were. People's beliefs in us - in our myths and in our religions - is what makes us created. But that means the stories that led to our creation aren't always accurate. People are supposed to fear me, and the Underworld is supposed to be a cold, desolate place in some parts of it."

He pointed at the painting.

"That's what I'm supposed to be like," he said. "The version of the Underworld you're seeing right now is like the ones from the religion that created me, too. And if...if anyone else showed up, I'm sure they would be an extension of this..."

He paused, not quite sure if he was ready to call it a nightmare or not. Whatever this was, it was something terrifying.

He looked over at Elias. "And Hades works-"

The pomegranate - the one he had forgotten he was holding - was suddenly snatched out of his hand. At first he thought it was Kazimir at fault, but Kazimir was too far away and didn't seem to be able to move that quickly right now.

He spun around to stare at the thief.

And his breath immediately caught in his throat.

The thief, pomegranate hovering right in front of his mouth, froze. His clothes were more formal than they ever were - and cleaner, too - and his dark brown hair was notably a bit more wild than usual. His silver eyes had a wild, guilty look to them.

He was one of Hades's friends, but if he was here now, didn't that mean he was just part of this strange version of his home?

"What?" the thief asked. "You weren't going to eat this, were you? I saw you had it by your side the entire time I was walking down the hallway."

Hades just stared.

The thief awkwardly lowered the pomegranate, gaze flickering to the others standing around him. "Oh. You're doing one of your tours right now. Sorry about that - I don't want to disturb you and the recently deceased."

Hades, out of habit, opened his mouth to get a word of protest in.

The thief's looked over at Kazimir. A smile that was a strange mix of sad and approving danced across his lips as he looked him over. "I can feel your adrenaline still rushing. You died during some kind of battle, didn't you-"

"They're not dead," Hades hurriedly said.

Lykos -Hades- Annabeth reminded herself, told the thief that they weren't dead.

"I have so many questions right now," she said. "But, first introductions are in order. My name is Annabeth." She waved her hand. "It's very nice to meet you. What's your name?"

It was all making sense... sort of. Well, okay, not really.

Elias found himself scratching his head in confusion as Ly—erm, Hades—started to go on and on about gods, creation, and religion. It all sounded so, so familiar, almost like something he learned about in his Primeval History class. Something something gods, something something faith, something something religion... It all sounded vaguely familiar, but this must have been taught during a week he slept through class and dodged homeworks or cheated off his friends like the great student he was. Elias couldn't believe he was thinking this, but he was starting to regret not paying attention in school.

Suddenly a man swooped in behind them and started chomping away at the fruit Hades was holding. Ohh, another person! So they weren't alone in this confusing world, after all. Although... this man looked like he belonged and not out of place like the rest of them.

"Well, I don't fear you, Hades," Elias said after he said they were not dead. Certainly an odd thing to say to someone, but there have been stranger things said so far today.

He then looked over at the new guy, squinted, then reached out to poke his arm.

Darn. Out of all the things he remembered from that week in class, he was hoping he'd be a ghost.

Visible disappointment swept across his face as he realized that he had a real tangible body, but then realized that it was probably a good thing he was a living breathing person. After Annabeth's introduction, he gestured to himself and said, "I'm Elias." He then gestured to the others. "And that's Kazimir, and..." He paused at massage-girl, not sure what to say here since he missed her name.

Kazimir only knew two things at this point. One: he was hungry. Two: whoever this new person was annoying. Wait, there was a third. His leg hurt like [censored].

His head started pounding the moment new kid drew attention to him. Talking about adrenaline. Dying in battle. This kid didn't know [also censored]. Conversations turned into background noise as his heated glare zeroed in on the silver-eyed freak.

The moment Elias said his name, Kazimir took that as his cue. He strode over with too-quick steps, ignoring the blinding pain shooting up them - and swung a punch right for the guy's nose.

The moment that Hades saw what Kazimir was about to do, he started to say, "That's not a good-"

But he was too late. By the time that the words had left his mouth, the punch had almost reached its target. But the target had completely sidestepped the attack with clearly superhuman speed, grabbing Kazimir's arm and twisting it behind his back.

He grinned.

"It's been awhile since a mortal tried attacking me," he said. "I like your spunk."

He took a casual bite out of the pomegranate.

"Please don't encourage him," Hades said. He wasn't sure who the request was to at this point. For someone who was supposed to be part of this strange version of his home, his friend was oddly in character. Hades found himself falling into the same rhythm he always did around him.

"I can't hear you over the sound of me eating another one of your delicious pomegranates," his friend said.

"That you stole from me," Hades pointed out.

"You weren't eating it," his friend replied, taking another bite.

Hades sighed.

Suddenly seeming to remember Annabeth's question, his friend turned and gave a pomegranate-juice filled grin.

"It's Ares," he said. "God of war, at your service."

Maggie moved to intervene, then paused. Kazimir's posture was...off. He leaned too heavily on one leg, grimacing as though involuntarily any time Ares' shifting forced weight onto it. He was hurt. She internally kicked herself for not noticing sooner.

It wasn't really her time to cut in, she knew, but basic etiquette wasn't her main focus at the moment.

"It's an honor to meet you, Ares," she said with a short bow, "and I hate to instruct your actions, but the man you're restraining is in pain. He requires medical attention." She didn't actually know if he was hurt enough to need the help of a nurse, or an almost-doctor, but she wasn't taking the chance that he did.

"Let him go," Annabeth said, wrestling Ares away from Kazimir. "Maggie's right. He's hurt, and you're not making it any better." She steadied her friend. "He shouldn't have attacked you, but he's learned his lesson, didn’t you, Kaz?"

She raised her eyebrow at him.

This is all making sense now...

How did he miss this? ...

Of course...

Elias instinctively snapped his fingers at the realization. So Maggie is her name! he thought. Glad I didn't have to ask and look like a total fool.

Satisfied of his findings, he shifted his attention back to the lower priority issues at hand here, namely this Ares "god of war" fellah restraining Kaz after he tried to punch him. Maggie pointed out that Kaz was hurt—maybe Elias didn't notice that he accidentally punched himself instead?—and Annabeth seemed to diffuse the situation.

But Elias was focused on something else. He squinted his eyes over to Ares and rubbed his chin, seemingly deep in thought.

"God of war, huh? You must have had some epic battles."

Elias didn't really know much about wars except the one he learned about in school, but still. A title like God of War must mean he is the general to the general's general, or whatever military hierarchy gets used nowadays. Crazy!

Kazimir had been fine until everyone decided they were a nurse. He squirmed in the god of war's grasp as everyone continued to talk about him like he wasn't there all of a sudden. All except the blood girl. She was patronizing him. He wasn't stupid. He knew that's what she was doing. He glared at her.

At this point, he knew he couldn't keep his pain a secret anymore, but he didn't need medical assistance.

"I'm fine," he spat. "I saw a doctor before this," he half-lied, masking the lie with convincing annoyance, pain, and anger. He hadn't seen a doctor per-say, but the wound had been treated.

He tugged at the "god's" grip again. He was beyond angry, but the only thing keeping him from causing a scene was the children present. If Elias wasn't around, and if Kazimir didn't have a son back home to return to... Kazimir would take his chances with a war God.

"Can you let a guy go, Airy?"

"So that was the reason for the adrenaline," Ares remarked, understanding seeming to dawn on him.

Hades had no way of knowing his current train of thought was almost identical to Maggie's, but he was frustrated with not picking up on the signs sooner. Gods admittedly healed faster than mortals, but still. He had seen enough injuries during his time running the Underworld, and Council knew that Kore had a habit of hiding hers.

Ares let go of Kazimir.

"Sorry about that," he apologized. "Your adrenaline should have clued me in, and grabbing you probably didn't help."

He popped around to the front of Kazimir, crouching down and eying his leg.

"As for battles," he said, pomegranate still in hand, "I've seen a few of those. Nothing like the kind of battles you're thinking of. Us gods like to spar sometime, and those are the kind of battles I'm the most acquainted with - you should see my girlfriend spar."

He got to his feet again.

"I'm sure Hades already gave you the speech," he said. Hades straightened a little and glanced at the portrait beside him. It was wrong. Ares looked off. Everything looked off. But the way he was talking made it sound like he really was his friend. "But I don't do a lot of what people expect from me. I spend a lot of my time down here, helping out the people who died in war."

...That wasn't in any story that Hades had ever heard.

He perked up a little more.

Ares crossed his arms.

"I'm going to go out on a limb here and guess that you know something about taking care of wounds, Maggie," he guessed. "You were the first one to pick up on the sides. I'm not sure what your idea of medical attention is, but I know a healing spell or two."

He looked back over at Kaz.

"If you don't have any objections to it, I can use it on you," he added. "I know you're not fond of me as it is, so I thought I'd ask before going and doing it."