Marie and I - Golden Music Part 3

“Okay, so it’s gonna take a while to get there, so I’ll catch you up,” Marie said in her scratchy voice.

“What is happening?” I asked.

We were tumbling through a black void, with glowing purple specks throughout. It was very empty compared to the complexities of the escape room, but if I focused, I could almost see a face looking back at me from all directions with glowing violet eyes.

“Oh, we’re just...travelling. It’s the fastest way to get there,” Marie said, straightening her dress while tumbling upside-down.

“And where is there?” I asked, trying to get a sense of up and down in the dark tumbling mess.

“Hmm. I think you would know it as Tartarus.”

“Like, the Tartarus in Greek mythology?” I asked, now curious.

“I think, yes.”

“But weren’t you born in Paris? Weren’t we in New York? Why are we going to where Greek gods-”

“It’s complicated, okay? It takes about...57 minutes to get there since it’s so deep. There is a lot I need to catch you up on before we arrive,” said Marie.

“How fast are we falling at?”

“Uh, I think it’s about...I actually don’t know.”

“Wow, the amazing Marie-Elizabeth Cléry does not know,” I said, not in the best mood.

“Do you think I would bring a speed indicator while falling to Tartarus? I barely know how to speak English, French is so much easier,” Marie said and tried to look me in the eye, but failed since we were tumbling through the air.

“I don’t know, just asking.”

“Okay. So. You got a good grade.”

“On what?” I said. Was this school all over again?

“The escape room, I meant,” Marie said, keeping her eyes on her shoes, which could mean up, down or sideways.

“What was my grade?”

“A 92 out of 100, so about an A for you Americans,” Marie said, putting dislike on the last word of the sentence.

“What was the point of the escape room again?” I asked, not really needing to say again because she had apparently forgotten to tell me.

“I was just getting to that if you would be patiente.”

Look at her, throwing in the French.

I nodded, signalling for her to begin the story.

“So basically what happened,” Marie started. “Is that some of the ghosts are having trouble leaving their lives behind.”

“What in the world is that supposed to mean?” I asked.

“The afterlife is about splitting off into different sections; paradise, boredom, or torture. My job is to help the people forget about what life they had, and move on.”

“What is the proper name for that job?” I asked, curious.

“Why?”

“Just to know.”

I was really going to use it to tease her, but she didn’t have to know that.

“Fine. It’s called a Metava, diverted from metavasi, which is transition is Greek,” Marie responded.

“You sound like my high school History teacher.”

“How fantastic, being compared to a History teacher,” Marie said with great enthusiasm.

The black surroundings slowly shifted into a grey, and then into a dark blood red. At the bottom, brown rocks shined with what I thought was oil, but could be something else. The ground was a pale red, with many, many blemishes, like pimples.

Gravity pulled Marie and me down to the ground, landing with a sharp thud.

“Lookee here, we’ve arrived. You’ll have such a jolly time.”

I looked around.

To say the least, that place was a mess.

Monsters were sprouting out of the ground, with legs and arms coming out of places you don’t want to know. Eyes filled with who-knows-what darted around, checking for predators. A river of fire (literally) swam down the middle of a canyon that opened up to the scenery before me. 

The creatures I saw probably would swarm in my nightmares, but that aside, Marie interrupted my thought with-

“Isn’t it beautiful?”

Sure Marie, sure. 

“Okay, sorry that we can’t stay to admire the view because there’s a problem at Hades’ place,” Marie said and sighed at the view.

“Hades? Like the Hades?” I asked.

“Is there any other Hades you know?” she answered with plenty of sass.

“Follow me, I know a shortcut.”

Splurk

And what a shortcut it was.

Lot’s of lava, 3 near-death experiences, and almost got lured into a lake of screaming voices.

Let’s leave it at that.

Once we were in a clearing where no monster was going to come out and eat us, I asked Marie a question I’d been wondering about.

“So, um, when did you die?” I asked very awkwardly.

“That, my friend, is classified information,” she replied.

Friend?

Marie-Elizabeth Cléry had an interesting definition of friendship.

“Why is it classified? I see when people die on Wikipedia all the time,” I pointed out.

“I have no idea what this Wikipedia of yours is, but it’s probably just another useless invention of you modern people. For your information, Hades classifies the death of his best Metava, so no one gets the wrong image,” Marie responded, looking content with herself.

“Right.”

We walked for a while in silence, Marie in happiness, me in curiosity.

“Here we are,” said Marie, gesturing up with her see-through hand.

“W-w…”

It was magnificent.

It was basically a castle, one made of shiny obsidian, as if oil had been rubbed on top. It was more than 20 meters tall, stretching up into the sky, the top endless. Turrets had ghosts with guard armour floating between them and chatting, but not producing any noise. Big black doors made out of black wood towered above us, the handle’s as big as my workplace. I couldn’t even tell how big this place was, how far it went back, or what was inside.

“So, is it okay?” Marie asked.

“Okay?! This is amazing! Who lives here, the richest man in the Underworld?!” I replied incredulously.

Marie gave me a confused look. “This is the Underworld. Hades’ palace.”

“Okay, follow me, we have an exclusive appointment with Hades in 5 minutes,” Marie said, strutting towards the door. 

Marie paused at the door and looked up at it, like a puppy to its mom. She gave it a death stare, and the door opened without any sound. 

“Care to join me?”

“Why yes, friend.”

Hades’ palace was as if the Underworld had broken loose.

Technically it was the Underworld, but don’t worry about that.

Skeleton warriors were scurrying around, avoiding decapitated cows while a stampede was going on. Ghosts like the ones on the tower were floating around, having a laugh while they watched the skeleton-cow showdown. A few tapestries hung here and there that depicted great battles with Hades as the commander, while some snake-headed monsters tried to shred them. Demigods were running around on pale horses, trying to stop all the chaos, which did not help at all.

One thing stuck out to me from all the rampage.

A giant man stood in the middle of everything, with a ring of calmness around him like a hurricane’s eye.

Being 10 meters tall does that to your subjects.

He wore black robes that glittered like the moonlight. His shoes were shadows, fluid and flowing, not always where they seemed to be. His face was a ghostly white, with chiselled features and sharp grey eyes. His hair swept across his head like waves on an ocean, and his hands looked strong, yet gentle.

“Come in, I believe you are the one I’m looking for,” Hades said and winked at me.

Marie and Hades started walking inside the palace and Marie yelled back to me, “Are you coming or not?”

I ran to catch up and thought, I have met a ghost that plays the harp, and Hades, the king of the Underworld.

My life was bonkers.

Once we got inside, Hades said,” Okay, so you’re not gonna be here for long, so don’t get used to it.”

I don’t think I could get used to it if I tried.

It was like the greatest cathedral had been painted with stars.

Everything was black, grey, or dark purple, with sparkly stones throughout, resembling the night sky. Instead of glass paintings, there were moving portraits of Gaia and Tartarus, moving between paintings and talking silently together. The silence stretched so far up that even Hades could stand up straight, and rugs of gold flowed across the floor.

Interesting, it looked just like Marie’s harp.

“Let’s get straight to the point, so-”

“Sorry to interrupt you,” I said, “But is this where Marie gets her harp?”

“Yes, you are correct,” responded Hades, shifting his weight with impatience. 

Marie lugged out her harp from nowhere, dropped it into the gold rug, and the harp disappeared.

“Could you explain what we need to do, Your Paleness?” Marie asked, looking up at Hades.

Your Paleness.

Go Marie.

“Yes Marie, I will explain why I’ve called you to my palace today,” said Hades in a very official-sounding voice. “We have a problem at the gate.”

Marie's face flooded with worry.

“The arriving gate, sir?”

Hades nodded.

“What happened, sir?” Marie asked with urgency.

“I was just getting to that Marie,” Hades said, trying not to express too much emotion.

“Go on sir.”

“So, to get in the Underworld, you need to tell the guards what you did during your life so they can evaluate where you need to go. If you did great things, like George Washington, you would go to Elysium or Paradise. If you just lived a normal life, you would go to the Fields of Asphodel. If you were someone like a burglar, you would go to the Fields of Punishment. Do you understand?” Hades asked.

I’d read my share of Percy Jackson books, so I was very familiar with this Underworld business, but I just nodded. 

“One of our ghosts forgot their life. And it seems to be spreading.”

Marie looked like she was about to throw up. 

“How is forgetting your life contagious?” I asked, confused about what Hades had said.

“I don’t know, but you need to fix this fast, Marie, or else I’ll have to fire you,” Hades said with disappointment. 

“Yessir, I will do that as soon as possible,” Marie said automatically.

“Also Marie, if you succeed, think of this as your biggest accomplishment yet. If you fail, well, this will be your last assignment from me.”

Hades handed me and Marie a sad smile, and walked away, disappearing into the darkness.

Marie led me out of the palace, rambling out of worry.

“Oh no, what if I fail? Where will I go? Live with the skeletons? No, they have no appreciation for music. Where will I get my harp from? Maybe Hades would let me borrow--”

“Calm down Marie, it’s gonna be fine,” I assured her, trying to not make her so nervous that she floats all the way up to New York.

She took a deep breath in, then released it.

Her breath did not smell pleasant in the least.

“Okay, so let’s go to the gates and see how many people we need to help,” Marie said, turning to the back of the palace.

“How many people come in every day?” I asked.

“About 150 000 people come through the Doors of Death every 24 hours,” stated Marie.

“So how many people could catch this...thing?”

“I have no idea.”

We arrived at the Doors of Death, and it looked like an airport on Christmas Day.

Swarms of ghosts floated around, trying to call for help for where to go. The two-headed dog in the distance was testing out how light ghosts were by grabbing them by the teeth. There were ghosts of all sizes, all ages, all religions.

Death doesn’t have any discrimination borders.

On the far left side of the “airport”, a hoard of ghosts stood there, gazing mindlessly around, asking other ghosts where they were.

There were more than 100 ghosts.

“I think we’ve found them,” I said.

Marie buried her face in her hands.