Hades' Cursed Luna novel Chapter 471

Chapter 471: Brilliantly Cunning Bastard

Hades

We were led down a hatch—a large, sturdy one that opened using an automatic controller. It was a gaping mouth without light, even as the sun from above shone directly on it, as if the darkness inside simply refused to be illuminated.

Freddie went first, instructing us as he did. "No worries, it’s spacious and the stairs are easy to follow."

We did as he asked. I let Eve go first, holding her hand as she followed Freddie, adjusting Sophie in my other arm. A light from Freddie’s direction bobbed ahead of us—a small flashlight cutting through the black.

The descent was longer than I expected. The stairs were indeed easy to follow, carved smooth and wide into the earth, but they went down, and down, and down. The air grew cooler with each step, carrying a scent I couldn’t quite place—something green and alive, impossibly fresh for being so far underground.

Sophie’s small hand clutched my shirt. She was quiet, but I felt her breathing quicken as we descended. This was familiar to her. This path. This darkness leading to—

Freddie stopped ahead of us. I heard the sound of metal sliding, a lock disengaging, and then the creak of hinges that needed oil.

"Brace yourselves," he said quietly. "It’s... a lot to take in."

The door swung open.

And light exploded into the darkness.

Not harsh. Not blinding. But everywhere.

I froze on the stairs, my breath catching in my throat. Eve made a sound that might have been a gasp or a sob—I couldn’t tell which.

The chamber before us was impossible.

Flowers covered every surface. The ceiling bloomed with luminescent blossoms that hung like stars—whites and blues and soft purples that cast a gentle, otherworldly glow. The walls were carpeted in vines that pulsed with bioluminescent veins, creating patterns of light that seemed to breathe. And scattered throughout were flowers I’d seen in the field above—roses, orchids, wildflowers—but here they glowed, each petal rimmed in soft radiance.

The ground wasn’t stone or earth. It was moss. Deep, plush moss that looked soft as velvet, stretching across the entire floor like a living carpet. And growing from it, seemingly at random, were more flowers—some as small as my thumb, others as large as Sophie’s head.

The air was fresh. Impossibly fresh. Like standing in a forest after rain, or in a meadow at dawn. There was no mustiness, no damp rot of underground spaces. Just clean, green, alive air that filled my lungs and made me feel like I could breathe properly for the first time in days.

"This shouldn’t be possible," Eve whispered, still gripping my hand like a lifeline.

"No," Freddie said quietly, stepping fully into the chamber. "It shouldn’t."

I followed him through the doorway, Sophie still in my arms, and the moment my feet touched the moss, I felt it again. That pulse. That heartbeat. But stronger here. So much stronger. Like standing beside someone’s chest and feeling their heart beat against your own.

She’s here, I realized with a chill. Not just her body. She’s here.

Sophie stirred in my arms. "You can put me down, Uncle Luci."

I did, carefully, and watched as she walked across the moss with familiar ease. Her white dress seemed to glow in the luminescent light, making her look almost spectral as she moved deeper into the chamber.

Eve’s hand tightened on mine. "Hades," she breathed. "This is more beautiful than the garden above."

She was right. The field above had been overwhelming in its riot of color and impossible combinations. But this—this was ethereal. This was what the garden wanted to be when it grew up. This was beauty so profound it bordered on holy.

And at the center of it all, at the heart of the chamber where the light seemed to converge and intensify, was the grave.

It wasn’t ornate. There was no marble or granite or carved angels. Just a simple raised mound of moss, perhaps three feet high and six feet long. And covering it—growing from it—were flowers unlike anything I’d seen above. They were large, almost the size of dinner plates, with petals that shifted through colors as you watched—white to pink to gold to blue, like they couldn’t decide what they wanted to be.

Or like they were trying to be everything at once.

Sophie walked up to the mound and knelt beside it, her small hands reaching out to touch one of the shifting flowers with a tenderness that made my chest ache.

Verify captcha to read the contentVerify