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.