Pale Eyes

by James Welsh

The entrance to the Underworld began to tremble for the second time in as many days.

  The ground shaking would have sent mortals on the surface running for their lives, and why wouldn’t they? But the earthquakes weren’t caused by an army of shades rising up to claim the world. Instead, something was descending into the depths of the Underworld. It was a massive beast, lumbering – as it plunged down the snaking tunnels into the Underworld, rock from the walls fell down with it. And the beast didn’t even brush against the walls to cause the boulders to fall – the giant’s gravity was so strong that it drew the world towards it.

  It was a beast. It was a statue of a man dressed in his battle-armor. It was a mountain, standing so proud and tall that it could blot out the sun in all directions for a mile. Wearing a shimmering coat of bronze, the monster almost seemed to glitter in the darkness as it clambered down. The beast sparkled, although there was no light bouncing off it. The beast moved slowly, but it moved gracefully, like a swan waking up in the morning. Beams of candlelight emanated from holes in its head, scooped out to resemble eye sockets. The massive candles would never melt down – they would crackle and pop forever, their dazzle striking through the darkness.

  Perched on the walking statue’s left shoulder, Hephaestus held on tightly as the beast climbed into the Underworld with its creator. With each sway of the beast beneath him, glowing drops of ichor splattered from Hephaestus’ wounds, staining his tunic. Hephaestus could feel the bloody tunic sticking to him, and he swore softly. He had never bled before the battle – of course, he had seen the mortals bleed and die before. It was only when Zeus died that Hephaestus began to understand his own mortality. But it was when he looked down and saw his cuts that he finally understood. The slashes would heal in time, but the scars would still show – he would have scars.

  He tried desperately to put the uncomfortable thoughts out-of-mind as the duo, creator and created, continued their plunge into the depths of everything. It would have taken a mortal years, a god an hour or two, but the giant statue climbed down in minutes at most. And so it was not long before the climb suddenly halted, and the giant stopped swaying side to side, its feet planted in the rocky floor. Without a moment’s rest, the statue began trotting down the tunnel before them, towards the inner sanctum of the Underworld.

  As the statue breezed down the tunnel, Hephaestus held on tight, his teeth rattling with the statue’s every stride. Hephaestus looked at the cave walls as they shot past. As quick as they were going, Hephaestus could still see shapes and colors on the walls. The painted walls didn’t show the deaths of the countless as much as they celebrated those deaths: Hephaestus saw the scenes of suffocation, of starvation, of disease, of warfare. The smith god never thought of it before, but there were as many kinds of death as there were deaths, which made him shudder even as he approached the dead heart of the world, which was somehow still warm and full of life.

  Suddenly, the ground zoomed up and the next thing Hephaestus knew, he was sprawled on the harshly cold floor, battered but otherwise intact. He shook his head and got up with a slow grunt. Nearby, he could see the fallen statue on the ground; it was rolling from side to side, gripping the shoulder that it had landed on hard.

  Hephaestus hissed something unrepeatable. He snapped, “Talos, you can’t even feel pain. Get up – we still have a ways to go.”

  Talos the bronze statue looked back wearily at the stone it tripped over, and it pushed itself up, scraping its head against the low ceiling as it did so. Hephaestus groaned because the scrapes meant more hours of him polishing the statue – it was an unfinished statue, and it probably always would be unfinished, given how reckless it was.

  But in a few minutes, Talos had dusted itself off and creator and creation together continued their trek. In a few minutes, the tunnel expanded and they suddenly found themselves in the massive chamber, where the souls gathered for their ferry across the rivers to their afterlives. The tunnel was so claustrophobic, the chamber so infinite, that Hephaestus lost his breath, the expansion a constriction, the excess a poverty.

  Hephaestus gained control of himself, though, and he ushered Talos to follow the stream of souls towards the River Styx. He suddenly realized that not even Talos could wade across the Styx, and so he would have to take the ferry with Charon. The thought of the ferry made Hephaestus swear, because he had not thought to bring any gold coins with him to pay for the passage.

  But as Hephaestus neared the riverbank, he noticed a familiar figure perched on the dock. At first, he thought it was her, because he could see her long muddy hair, even from that distance. But as he got closer, he wasn’t so sure anymore – if it was her, then why was she dressed so plainly? Hephaestus had never seen a goddess dressed in such patchy robes before. He wondered if it was a mortal who somehow snuck into the Underworld, but Hephaestus laughed before he could even finish thinking the thought. It seemed too absurd to be true, although he himself was a god born from a tree that grew out of his mother’s mouth.

  It wasn’t until Hephaestus and his creation neared the River Styx, until they were at the dock practically, that the crippled god realized that, yes, it was Athena herself. The newly-crowned Queen of the Underworld was standing at the foot of the pier, where the shades funneled into a line for the ferry. Hephaestus noticed that, at Athena’s foot, she kept a massive cloth bag. For each of the shades who marched past, Athena reached into the bag, produced two shining coins, and put the coins in the shades’ windy hands. Hephaestus watched, awed, as the shades each nodded their thanks and moved on to the docked ship, the coins jingling in the windstorm between their clenched fists.

  “Athena!” Hephaestus called.

  Athena looked up, startled to have guests that were solid like her. At first, all she saw was the bronze statue looming above her. Perhaps it was the statue’s towering height, or perhaps it was the statue’s battle armor, but whatever the reason, Athena clenched her fists, prepared to fight whatever monster she needed to.

  “No, don’t be frightened, my sister!” Hephaestus squeaked, realizing what it may look like. “It’s me, Hephaestus!”

  Athena peered up at the cloaked god resting on the statue’s shoulder. She asked, “What are you doing here? There isn’t more trouble in the world above, is there?”

  “No, not for now, no,” Hephaestus grunted as he commanded Talos to kneel down. The god hopped down from the giant’s shoulder, stumbling a little as he did so, and walked towards Athena. “Do you like my newest creation?”

  Athena looked at the statue with awe. “It’s amazing, like everything else you make. Why didn’t you bring it into the battle with you? It looks like its left foot could squash a man out of existence.”

  “Well, it’s not so much an it as it is a he,” Hephaestus said airily. “He has something of a personality.”

  Athena looked impressed. “It does?”

  “Well, it’s learning.”

  As if on cue, Hephaestus turned and noticed that Talos was standing on the edge of the riverbank, peering down at the sick waters of the River Styx. The statue began to lean down, its finger outstretched, curious as to what that strange water felt like.

  “Talos, no!” Hephaestus barked. He had spent too much time piecing the statue together to have it get stuck in the quicksand of the river bottom. The beast stepped backwards on the shore, scratching its head, downcast. If it was human, Talos would look almost sheepish.

  Athena smiled. “I guess he’s still unfinished then?”

  “What’s ever finished?” Hephaestus said, his face reddening as he guided Talos back to more solid ground.

  “So, why are you here?” Athena asked, perplexed. The Underworld wasn’t a common place for anyone to visit. And if Hephaestus wasn’t there to warn her of a new danger, then what else could there be?

  “I have something I need to speak with you about. Come and walk with me.”

  Athena looked at Hephaestu
s silently for a moment, then said, “Okay.”

  Athena tipped the bag of coins over with her foot, spilling the gold on the floor. She said to the crowd of shades that pressed against her, “Here, take your coins to pay Charon. Do not take more than you need.”

  Athena added that last sentence, knowing there was no point. Besides paying Charon for the ferry into the afterlife, there was nothing else for which the shades could use the coins. Mortals in the world above would lust for the gold, even if they didn’t need it. It was only when someone entered the Land of the Dead that they lost that love – that was when some of the stubborn souls finally realized they were dead.

  As the shades waited in line to take their fair share of the money to pay Charon, Athena said to Hephaestus, “Let’s walk over there.”

  They walked towards a boulder that jutted out into the Styx. The boulder had landed there recently after a rockslide, and already the acidic water was chewing away at the rock. It would not be long before the stone was eaten away entirely, but for now it was there. Hephaestus sat down at the rock’s edge, his feet dangling above the bitter waters. Hephaestus had to sit down, because his bent legs were not strong enough to hold him up for long, especially if he shook with fear. And still the tremors hit him – Hephaestus had to grip his hands together to stop the shakes. Athena chose to stand, and so she hovered serenely over Hephaestus.

  “I have something that I need to tell you,” Hephaestus said after a long moment. “And I want you not to say anything until I finish talking.”

  “Why?” Athena demanded softly.

  “Because if you stop me from saying this, then I’m afraid I can never say it again,” Hephaestus said slowly, because if he spoke too quickly, then he knew he would stutter.

  Curious now, Athena said nothing, waiting for Hephaestus to make the next move.

  “I was the first person you had ever seen,” Hephaestus began. Athena had never thought of that before, but it was true. Hephaestus was standing in the room that fateful night when Athena drained from Zeus’ ear.

  “And during the battle,” Hephaestus continued, “there were so many times when I thought that I had lost you.”

  Athena misinterpreted what Hephaestus was trying to say. “We were all frightened, Hephaestus – it was sad enough when we lost Zeus…”

  “Quiet! Quiet. Please, I beg of you,” Hephaestus pled, his eyes frantic. Athena remembered her promise of silence, and she went quiet once more. Hephaestus saw Athena’s pursed lips, her arms folded across her chest, and he smiled humorlessly. “I’m sorry, I really am. I don’t blame you for not understanding, because – to be honest – I don’t understand it as well.”

  “Understand what?” Athena asked, her exasperation showing through her royal calmness. She was more than a Queen – she was the lungs of her kingdom – and her kingdom had held its breath long enough. She had a kingdom to keep together.

  Hephaestus took a deep breath and said, “I was afraid of losing you during the battle, Athena, because I love you.”

  Athena did not speak, because her eyes said enough, and they didn’t encourage. Hephaestus wanted to turn and run with shame. But if he did run away, then he should have done so years before. The words he said to Athena sounded like a crime, but for Hephaestus, it was nothing more than an admission to a crime. It was too late to run now, and, if anything, that gave Hephaestus the strength to continue with his confession:

  “I have loved you since the moment I met you. In your first moment alive in this world, you were the strongest god who ever lived. You were so powerful, your father tried to stop you from being born, all because he was afraid of you overthrowing him. And although you loved him like the father he was to you, and you didn’t mean to kill him, you still managed to kill him. You destroyed a god that thousands of creatures, both mortal and immortal, have tried to kill over the centuries. The Titans, as powerful as they were, could never figure out a way to kill him in battle. The Titans! The first rulers of this world, the gods who oversaw the beginning, when the oceans began to fill and the forests became noisy – those gods could not stop Zeus. Mortal men have tried to kill Zeus by not praying to him anymore. I have seen countless men curse Zeus out loud after their houses burned down or their friends died. When any other god stops being worshipped, do you know what happens? They’re supposed to wither, but Zeus never did. And after all of that history, you managed to bring down Zeus with one spear – one spear. Love, you’ve spent your whole life running away from your strength – if only you accepted yourself sooner, imagine how the world would have changed! How perfect you are – you’re beautiful, you stand straight and proud, you’re brilliant, you’re strong. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted to be. When I look at you, I see an opportunity to be better – do you want to take that away from me? I want to be with you, because I’m tired of being so weak.”

  During his entire speech, Hephaestus couldn’t bring himself to look at Athena. Instead, as he spoke, Hephaestus looked out over the river. Every once in a while, he would take a quick, sideways glance at Athena, hoping for a word, a look, anything that would tell him how she felt.

  But the entire time that Hephaestus spoke, Athena did not betray anything. Her face remained granite, and her lips were silent. It wasn’t until Hephaestus finished speaking and a few moments had passed that Athena said something.

  “You only love me because I killed Zeus, and you always wanted him dead.”

  Hephaestus shook his head wildly. “No, no, you don’t understand, Athena, I didn’t want him dead! I have always been angry with him, but I never wanted him dead. I’m not like…”

  “Hades?” Athena finished Hephaestus’ sentence. “What are the differences between you and our uncle? Both of you felt insulted by my father, and both of you wanted my father dead. And true, you may have not killed Zeus, but your legs are as twisted as your heart, and your heart is as twisted as a dagger. While I never knew you loved me until now, I did know you thought I was beautiful.”

  “You did? How?”

  “The look in your eyes, when you first saw me – you looked at me as if I was beautiful. But you know what? You saw my father, you saw the fear in his eyes because he thought I was coming to kill him. After that moment, I saw a different emotion in your eyes. You no longer thought I was just beautiful – you thought I was gorgeous. You thought I was gorgeous because you thought I was coming to kill Zeus,” Athena spat, her eyes seeming to spark. “If I was mortal, if I didn’t have this strength in me any longer, would you still love me, Hephaestus? Would you love me if I could not live out your dreams for you?”

  Hephaestus looked nauseous – he expected his confession to sour, but he didn’t think that the situation would fall apart this badly. Athena took advantage of Hephaestus’ sick silence and continued, her queen’s confidence growing stronger in her, word by word.

  “And you thought that you loved me because you hated my father? Don’t you see how much I’m like my father? I was born from his brain – we share the same joys and the same fears. And now, with him as the King of Life and I as the Queen of Death, we truly look over the world as one being. And who are you to take away a queen’s right to rule her kingdom? You are no better than our uncle, who kicked my father Zeus from his throne.”

  Hephaestus looked aghast. “I’m not asking you to sacrifice anything.”

  “When you committed your love to me, that was what you did: you committed. You professing your love is no better than a person who surrenders himself. You have allowed yourself to become a slave, all in the hopes that I would say the same, that I will love you for longer than eternity. You want us to become slaves together, but you don’t know how much I hate the word slave. I haven’t ruled for long now, but it’s been just enough to infect me. Now, no one will ever take away my right to decide my future, no matter how much ichor is in their veins. So no, I will not say I love you. What I will say is th
at I hope you find your freedom too.”

  Hephaestus sighed. “It was a mistake for me to say anything. I shouldn’t have even come here.”

  Athena gave the slightest shrug. “There has to be something good to mistakes. Otherwise, why would we keep making them? Now, I must ask you to leave – you’ve interrupted me at my work enough.”

  She pointed a finger down the dark tunnel from which Hephaestus came earlier. It was with a steel heart that Hephaestus stood up and shuffled past Athena towards the waiting Talos. He managed not to look behind him the entire time he walked away and boarded his massive bronze statue. Hephaestus managed not to look back as Talos stood up and began trotting away from the Styx, towards the tunnel that led to the world above. But, before the statue walked too far, Hephaestus could no longer resist the temptation. He glanced back at Athena, hoping for one more look at his love, dreaming even that she was running towards him, begging him to come back.

  Instead, Athena stood where she stood before, her arms still folded. He couldn’t see her face clearly from that far away, but he could almost imagine that her pale eyes were the same as they always were: hardened, resolute. It used to be that every time Hephaestus saw Athena, even if it was only for a moment, he would see her like she was during their first meeting. He could still remember that little smile she had, as if she had known him for years, and her inviting eyes.

  Now though, all he could think of when he looked at Athena was her sitting on her uncle’s throne, somewhere deep in the Underworld. And, whenever he thought of Athena perched on Hades’ throne, all he could think of was Zeus. Athena was right – she was more than her father’s daughter – she was her father himself. Zeus and Athena, father and daughter, they were both strong and noble, standing against Hades and saving all of the living. They were both careless, not understanding how much hurt they could cause. They were both proud, almost to the tipping-point of arrogance – although they would have said they were independent. And now, the father and daughter shared one more similarity to add to the growing list: both of them threw away Hephaestus. Zeus looked at Hephaestus and saw ugliness that could shame the gods – Athena looked at Hephaestus and saw a love that could trap her. Both of them saw Hephaestus not as a god, not as an equal – they simply saw him as a wall meant to be knocked down, a tree meant to be cut down, a boulder meant to be pushed to the side. They thought he was only a limitation.

  And still, as much as Athena loathed him, Hephaestus could not help but love her. He wanted to rescue her from her duties in the Underworld still, he wanted to take her with him to the world above. He could not understand why she loved the power that came with ruling the Underworld. She had all of that power, and yet she could not make the sun rise over the kingdom of the dead, nor could she make her subjects feel anything again. Her power as the Queen was as hollow as the shades themselves.

  Hephaestus thought so much about what Athena could achieve that he forgot how much he himself could achieve. He forgot that he could build such beautiful things – he built Talos with his brain, but imagine what he could have built with his heart. He could easily build a love of his own, one made of metal but could never rust, one that could live for as long as he could love her. But that was something that he could build, something that he could build any day that he wanted to, but all of that was the problem. There was nothing exotic about such a love, because he already knew everything that went into it. Perhaps the reason why Hephaestus loved Athena so much was because she was everything that he didn’t know – perhaps.

  Book 24