I held my breath as I clicked the button. I sent in some saliva in a glass tube to a company that analyzed your DNA, and finally, the results were in. Hopefully, this website would reveal some insight into who I was and where I came from. I sat on my bed with the little laptop, praying this would reveal something about my blood relatives.

It was hard being adopted. I always stuck out in family photos with jet-black hair and a pointed nose. My family, my loving adopted family, raised me from infancy. I couldn't have asked for anything more because they treated me like one of their own. Except, I wanted to know who I was deep down. Whose blood ran through my veins?

The website refreshed. I knew what to expect - or rather, I thought I knew what to expect. One of my friends had done this a couple of months ago. Once you clicked the button, a map of the world appeared, highlighting all of the areas your ancestors came from. It broke down your bloodline from countries and regions across the globe.

When mine appeared, my stomach dropped. The map of the world appeared with big bold letters that read 'UNKNOWN ORIGINS'. I threw my arms up in frustration and tried again. Same result.

Again. Same result. Maybe if I logged out and back in...

Same result.

I took a breath and realized it was probably a website error or something. I found the troubleshooting contact information and dialed the number. The line rang, and a female answered, "Hello, this is Me&23 DNA, this is Melissa. How can I help you today?"

"Yeah, hi. I just got my results back, and the website says it can't find my results or something."

There was a pause. "Have you tried logging out and back into the website?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Is there an error message when you try to access the information?"

"Yes, the message reads 'Unknown Origins'."

A longer pause. A long pause so long that I thought the line had disconnected.

"Uh...Give me a moment. I need to contact my boss."

The line went dead. I looked at my phone and tried to dial the number back. Perhaps the woman hit the wrong button. A busy signal.

I sighed. Maybe I was never meant to know who my family was.

My phone rang again. "Hello?" I was praying it was the woman from before, but this time, it was a man's gravely voice.

"Hello," said the voice. "Is this [INSERT YOUR NAME HERE]"?

"Yes, who is this?"

"Listen, this would be easier to explain in person. Come down into my office, and I can explain."

"What? Office? I think you have the wrong number mister."

Just then, on the opposite end of the wall, a portal opened up. It was blue and black swirled, and evoked a sense of calm. "I don't have the wrong number. You're my son/daughter, [INSERT YOUR NAME HERE]."

"W-what did you say your name was," I whispered into the phone.

"Hades, the Lord of the Underworld."

////

Author's note: Found this in my drafts from a year ago. Don't know if it's any good, but I'm trying to clear out my drafts. I also don't remember what I originally called the teenager, so I used [insert your name here] blocks. Sorry. Hope you like it!

She glanced again at her cellphone, frowning. The date was certainly correct, no doubt about that. As for time, there was only twenty-three minutes until then. The place… Well, that’s where things got a little fuzzy.

‘Just go to the oldest building in your current town; don’t worry about trespassing signs, you’ll be fine. Make sure you’re there within five minutes of your assigned time, or you’ll miss it. Best not to keep the Lord of the Underworld waiting!’

After many hours of frantic googling, Elly had finally narrowed her search down to one of two places. Both were built in 1896, though it was unclear which had been first. Fortunately, the two were right next to each other; only a foot or two between them.

The invitation came to you in the beak of a crow. The envelope was heavy and cream and busted in blood red lettering an address to your name. You open it and outfalls a card into gold coins. The card says in bright, happy letters

“You are cordially invited to Hades’ first birthday.”

When you arrive at the party, you are greeted at the door by Eurydice. She smiles shyly and tales your coat. You feel silly for wearing a coat to Hell.

Eurydice hands you a black and silver party hat and ushers you into the festivities.

“Oh, you made it! I’m so glad!” Hades breaks away from a conversation with a Satyr and glides over to greet you. He towers over every other guest in the party and you think to yourself “Lifts.” You’re anxious and you get catty when you’re anxious.

You bow. He is a king after all.

Hades thinks it was super weird but he knows you’ve never been here before.

“I was worried you wouldnt come! I love your podcast,” He gushes. “I wasn’t really into true crime before - I mean I know some of those guys - but boy do you know how to weave a tale!”

You are not good at taking compliments, so you smile politely and say “Happy Birthday. I see you’re turning…one?”

“It’s my first birthday ever! I was born and devoured by my father before time technically ever existed so I never knew when my birthday was and then I thought ‘Why not just pick a day?’ So I picked today! And I invited everyone thag I thought was cool!”

“Oh, wow, I’m honored.”

“But seriously, how do you do it? How do you engage with death with such pizzazz? Doesnt it bum you out?” he asks while pouring you a glass of mysterious brownish-pink liquid.

You hesitate to take it and he laughs. “It’s just jungle juice for the mortals. Don’t worry. I wouldnt pull the same trick twice.”

You take a sip and feel warthm envelop your body. “I guess I just view death as a natural part of life, even if it’s caused by unnatural forces. I mean we do things that could kill us all the time: drinking, flying, fighting. Being afraid of death is kind of like being afraid of life.”

“Being afraid of death is like being afraid of life”, he repeats slowly. Then, he claps and says “Ha, how novel!”

The letter came in the post in sunday. I heavy cream envelope sealed with golden wax. Still hot to the touch.

In it, leaden black script, which read

You are crdially invited to attend a salon hosted by his majesty Hades in the depths of the underworld. The attire is cocktail.

On the day of the salon, a map appears in the post. The map leads to a river, on too of which bobs a boat. You surrender the two golden couns that arrived with the invitation to a mysterious gondolier and precariously step into the water vehicle.

Time folds in on itself as you drift down the Styx. You are oblivious to the change in your surroundings. Suddenly wherw you are is oitch black, the only break being the reflection of light from an unidentified source against the obsidian walls.

A hand reaches toward you from the darkness and behind it emanates a voice.

“We’ve been waiting for you”

A letter arrived this morning, and I already don't want to open the shit. At 6 am, the doorbell rang, which sounded like an exploding bell jar. The noise awakened me from a luxurious sex dream that found me at a tarted-up swinger penthouse on the Upper East Side in NYC. My toes were being sucked by a dreamy chocolate man, complete with a full beard, hulking-prison muscles, and tattoos. As I was about to climax, the sound of planes falling from the sky jolted me awake.

Frantic and glistening with a thin sheet of sweat, I high-tailed to my front door. As the door swung open, Marcleese, an Ogar with a lazy eye and an unreasonable amount of body hair, was standing in my doorway with his enormous mouth agape. He's an aqatiuneces from my nights of partying in the underworld, and only one entity could have sent him here. With his big, clunky arms outstretched, he presents a red envelope with crimson embossed letters that said, for Shay.

Who’s this from, or do I even need to guess? I asked with a hint of bitchy cunt in my voice. There’s nothing more infuriating than NOT getting off in a sex dream, and I wanted to pick up where I left off.

Victor, he said.

Do you mean Hades? Of course, that dramatic bitch would send an invite during an erotic dream. About 200 years ago, we had a tumultuous affair that ended badly, but what should I expect from a God? Lousy. Mother fuckers, the lot of them.

Then the smell of garbage water hit my nose. And before I could bitch about the stench, Marcleese disappeared in a cloud of scented vapour. Fucken Dick, I shout, slamming the door.

What is this about the invite? I think to myself, kind of laughing and slightly terrified. Not bothering to find my envelope opener, I slide my raspberry blue fingernail across the sealed letter.

Upon opening the letter, lilac petals and butterflies erupt from the envelope. What in the HELL, I murmur. With a deep sigh, I prepare myself for the bullshit that I’m about to read.

Dear Shay,

I hope this letter finds you well. It’s been many years since I have seen you and I love to catch up. We just got a Sardees and Apples Bees in the third rung of Hell, and let me tell you, I live for the quesadilla burger. Last weekend, I was a Grotto 666, and they added this to die for Squid the Dragon livers, and I thought of you and all our food adventures. None of my concubines or prisoners enjoy fine food, and I often dine alone. Then this thought: Shay would love this, but I would not be truthful because that was not my first time thinking that thought. I would love a dinner date. I know things ended badly— I really fucked up. I know we had hook-up rules, and I broke them over and over again. Time has changed me, and I learned that the best advisors did not surround me. If you like, they opened a Unicorn BBQ in Purgatory 5, and I would love it if you could come—no pressure, of course, but just a little. Please let me know soon because the host is a grade-a-prick from Des Moines, Iowa.

With Love Victor

He had been expecting it. Guy knew that he would get summoned sooner rather than later. He wasn't disappointed or anxious about it. If anything, he was excited.

Guy was bored. Once you go over the whole shock and awe of it all, Hell was a pretty dull place. It wasn't everything that the hype had been setting up.

True, his circumstances were different than most. Most people got booked on the cruise over the Styx without much second-guessing. They were along for the ride. Guy had accompanied Angel. Always the supportive boyfriend.

He thought maybe she had brought him along to her hometown, so to speak, to discourage him from continuing their relationship—the trip home to meet Dad. She’d show him around her old haunts and introduce him to people and things he couldn’t possibly remember. Then, they would head back with questions and uncertainties. They would break up. He would go on to a lovely new girl and complain about how hard it had been to be in love with The Angel of Death.

He wasn't having it. He wasn't that easy to shake off.

So she had apparently tried another ploy: parking him alone in the room while she went off to workshops and seminars and caught up on endless work-related stuff. And Guy was left behind to be bored.

So a summons from Hades was perfect—time to shake things up.

“He's a tall, thin bastard,” Guy thought. He was ushered into the throne room, where he was studied in absolute silence for a long time. He waited.

"So you're the one," the Old Man said after a time. Guy nodded and stepped forward to offer a hand that wasn't received.

"I'm Guy."

More silence. Just those cold, dark eyes. Staring at Guy.

"You have a nice place here," Guy said looking around. "Very spacious."

"You know how it goes," Hades said. "You have to have room. Everyone is dying to get in."

Guy snorted. "I see what you did there. That's a dad joke."

With that, the Old Mand slapped his knee. The halls reverberated with a deep, dark laughter, which Guy found infectious. He liked this Old Man.

Lissa stares at the letter in her hand. This has to be a joke, right? As if Hades actually exists… Whatever! Whoever decided to do this prank did put a lot of effort into it. The envelope is a nice, dark blue color with an almost eerily glowing red wax seal. The writing of the letter is a really nice cursive. Like, founding father kind of cursive! The letters are so loopy that it took multiple minutes for Lissa to finally figure out what the fuck it’s saying.

Lissa lays down the envelope on her desk as she rubs her eyes. “Maybe I’m just imagining things! I haven’t slept in two days, so that must be it! Hallucinations!” She throws her hands up in the air before standing up and literally throwing herself on her bed. “This is a problem for future me.” She lets out a yawn before succumbing to the pull of her soft bed.

…

Until Lissa is woken up by a bang. Her apartment shook, causing her to fall out of her bed and land on the ground with a loud thud. “Fuck!” Before her stands a tall, imposing figure clad in a dark cloak. She stares at it dumbfounded.

“Mortal…” The figure breathes out. The voice sounds raspy and sends shivers down Lissa’s spine. A pale hand with very long fingers snakes out of the cloak.

Lissa screeches. “Stay away you creepy motherfucker!”

Spring time is over Time to head home To the burning pit Of hell

I’ll spend the rest of my days With him I’m sorry External drought

It is a strange sensation - fear. The physical manifestation of your own mind screaming at you to _run. _The chorus of a million voices in the echoing cavern of your head, warning you of the terrors that lie ahead. The battle against your own body’s unconscious need to turn and flee the existential threat standing before you; or, as I was all too well aware, behind you, too. As the gates of Hades creaked and groaned, slowly dragging themselves open, the urge to turn tail and seek sanctuary in the endlessness of space rose within me. The certain knowledge of anonymity, of concealment in the vastness of the universe, made a convincing argument as to why I should not linger here. I am not a warrior. How did I come to find myself here? At the gates of Hell? Why had this responsibility become mine? I should turn, now; return whence I came and seek the protection of my own creator. It was a sensation I found difficult to overcome, but overcome it I must, if there was to be any chance of success. I closed my eyes, reminding myself, ‘it is when fear is at its highest that courage makes itself accessible’. And, if there were any courageous words to be found amidst the screaming voices of self preservation ricocheting in my mind, I wished they were just a little louder; just a little more reassuring. ‘No courage without fear,’ I reminded myself again. The _smell—_that of rancid, raw meat—wafted into my nostrils, turning my stomach, making me gag. The internal voices screamed at me to go now, before it’s too late, before they see you. Before… Through the giant gates, standing in a widening blueish-black line as the barriers revealed more and more of my fate, I could now see the Hadean ‘welcoming’ party. Hundreds of hideous creatures, their yellow eyes scrutinising me, their curiosity at the tall personage daring to knock at the doors to the home of eternal perdition. What kind of fool asked for entry to the Shadowlands? They shook and waved their swords and spears, shouting and cheering intimidating catcalls and insults; baring their yellow teeth… growling aggressively like cornered dogs. And, behind them, coming into view as the gates opened fully, the giant three headed beast known as Cerberus… the gatekeeper to the Underworld. Charged with keeping the dead in, and the living out, each round head of this giant black and brown dog snarled and snapped, pulling at the giant chains holding it in check. The Hadeans kept a sensible distance from the dog as it growled and barked, with each head—its hanging jowls drooling feverishly—making its own terrifying, unholy noise as it lurched forward in its futile attempts at snapping them up. I swallowed, then stepped forward, using the large walking stick I’d thought to bring with me to steady my shaking legs. The stick—almost as tall as me—had been a last-minute decision, but it now seemed a wise choice, as my conviction and courage were in danger of deserting me. ‘No courage without fear,’ echoed the mantra in my head; I was only conscious, however, of the fear. The groaning and creaking of the giant gates resumed as they now closed behind me. If there had been any chance of flight, of escape, that chance had now passed. There was no going back. The Hadeans crowded around me, many holding their torches high, seeking a better look at the stranger, yet maintaining a respectful distance; almost, it seemed, unsure what to make of their unexpected visitor. The long, white hair, the thin wisp of beard; the long, brown Vicuña wool coat—a gift from a friend, adorned with its exquisite stitching patterns depicting the multitude of galaxies comprising the universe—falling all the way to my ankles. The soldiers of Hades had never seen such a sight. With each step, I felt a little bolder, a little more assured; or, at least, I tried to convince myself I was. The Hadeans, despite their growling, and their bravado, were almost in awe of me. There appeared to be a reverence to how they backed away, widening the path in which I walked; as if lining the way to the doors of the palace in the distance. I straightened my back, now walking tall and determined; forcing my earlier fear to the back of my mind. The Hadeans trudged alongside. The path wound around the crags and walls of the imposing mountains forming the outer walls of Hades, before opening up into a more level, rough and untended stretch of ground. There were crude mud huts and tattered tents everywhere; highlighted in the gloom by the many campfires, and handheld torches. The homes of these creatures were no more welcoming a sight than the wild landscape stretching out toward the huge black spires of the seat of power; the black palace. There was nothing pleasant, or beautiful in this truly dark land, and the sense of fear that had gripped me so tightly was now a feeling of pity. The sky above was dark, cloudy, as if the portent to a storm that always threatened, but never quite appeared. The light was dim; not quite twilight, but diffused enough to remain a constant reminder that the sun would never shine favourably on these cursed lands. An acrid scent of decaying flesh hung in the air, accentuating the sense of hopelessness and despair. Then, incongruous in this land of misery, a most unexpected sight; a small clump of bluebells, about two feet across, poked out from the dried, stale grass. I paused, staring at the stunning colour of the wild flowers; an oasis of hope in a desert of utter despair. Was this a sign? Had Mother Nature’s influence reached out to the end of the universe? As I continued my way up the long track toward the palace, the growing throngs of Hadeans continued to part before me, yet crowded in behind, following in a noisy procession. Strangely, amongst the growling, and the shouting, I could make out individual comments. No, not comments… pleas. “Free us!” called one. “Lead us to salvation!” another begged. To my left, one Hadean fell to his knees, discarding his sword, his hands clasped and thrust upward toward me. “Offer me redemption, my lord,” he begged. “I… we… are ready to make amends.” Many others fell to their knees, offering their hands; a wave flowing from the front to the back of the growing crowd. I halted in my tracks, caught totally off guard. I looked about and around me. This was not a hostile mob, intent on attack; it was a gathering of hope. It was the welcoming of light into darkness. It was a world of once-lost souls seeking a way back into the light. The Hadeans knelt before me, pleading as one to be led from their torment. Their yellow eyes, once so full of hate, now begged forgiveness. Their growls were not of aggression, but of pain. “My friends,” I said, “I am not a lord. I am but a messenger. Nothing more. I don’t know…” “You are Sotíras. The Deliverer, come to set us free,” claimed one. “You are the Redeemer our master promised, my lord,” cried another, taking my hand. I looked the Hadean in the eye, taken aback by the sincerity and hopefulness coming from within these most hideous of creatures. “Your master…?” I gazed all around me, turning, surrounded by a multitude of expectant faces. This was a most unexpected turn of events.

As Georgy came to the door of his apartment, he saw a letter on the floor that was not put inside. He picked it up and turned it around. It was dark blue with his name inscribed in gold in the front. He stood there confused and opened the envelope.

Inside was an invitation to go to the underworld! It said the recipient was Hades and he wanted to talk to him. Hades? He thought of this as a joke and put the envelope in his bag. He took his keys and opened his door. He walked inside the dark apartment, closed the door and put his coat on the rack. He took his bag again and turned on the lights. Click. Nothing happened. Click. Click. Click.

Nothing happened and he looked around. He walked to the living room and saw a massive chasm. He saw skeletons and spirits in the walls trying to claw their way out but they could not. He saw floating rocks making there way to no where. He saw great fires at the bottom lighting up the room. Finally, he saw a osbidian castle in front of him.

Georgy was at first frightened and tried to go back out of this place but he ran into a black stone wall. His apartement was no longer here but he was in the underworld. He saw the bridge that led to the castle and he walked over it.

As he came to the door of the castle, they swung open; revealing a throne room. He looked on top of it and saw a huge man, wearing black robes with black wings resting behind him. He had a black crown on his head and he grasped a crimson spear.

“Georgy!!!” Bellowed the man, his arms out gesturing for him to come closer. Georgy waited and the man’s gaze grew hard. He stuck his hand out and brought it back to him. Suddenly Georgy was pulled to him and he was at the steps of his throne.

“How are you doing?” He asked.

“I was good before this,” Georgy responded fiercly.

“What ruined your good day?”

“What do you want, god of the underworld?” Asked Georgy.

Hades eyes narrowed and shrugged. “Right to the point, are you, son?”

“Yes, get this over wi—“ Georgy paused, what did he say? “Son???”

“Yes, that is why I brought you here! You are of age to rule with me!” Said Hades happier than ever.

“No, no, noo! I have a life, I don’t want to spend my life in a dark pit.”

“Here have some food. I am sorry,” said Hades sympathetically.

Georgy at some of the pomegranates that were in a bowl next to him and felt better. Hades smiled and cheered, making him confused.

“What ever is born of the underword, stays in the underworld, son. Those pomegranates are from here. Woooohhhooooo!!!!” Hades exclaimed.

“You tricked me!!” Georgy grew mad and went for his neck but was sent flying into a cage on the side of the building.

“You will calm down. And you will rule with me.” He calmly said.

Georgy sat in his stone prison and despaired. He was stuck here and that was it.