she thinks she can smell the cinnamon her grandmother used to wear grow fainter and fainter the deeper they delve into the underworld. the lasso and diana herself seem to be compasses on their own, their north point turned towards hades.

penny can feel it too, pulling them — and too, she can feel her grandmother out there, in the underworld. she thinks she can feel her spirit there, and she wants to run away, wants to go to her. and still…

she knows what orpheus did. how he had turned back and eurydice was gone after. how that the world of the dead was treacherous and winding and she could be lost, forever. and what help would that be if she and diana were lost? what would happen to their friends, their sisters? the living mattered as much as the dead.

so she goes, follows that compass to hades' throne. deeper and deeper, closer and closer, that unnatural cold settles further and further until the only real warmth left is the lasso itself. there isn't any breath to be seen in the air as she breathes, and when she finally comes within sight of his throne, hear heart beats louder than it ever has before in hear chest.

to say that his throne was large was to be be an understatement. most of the room is his iron throne, overwhelming in how brutalistic it is, in the deep lines, in the way that her eyes are drawn to it. hades sits on it with burning eyes, a beard to his chest and all the countenance of a god.

diana knows that some of this is pageantry: she has seen the gods take many forms, in many ways over time. that this is less for her and more for penny as she comes closer. and both she and penny can see the throne beside him, empty of its owner: vines and flowers strewn together, but ultimately not true plant life. just a pale imitation of it.

diana brings them to their knees, bowing respectfully. "Ζεὺς καταχθόνιος, i have come to honor the bargain we have struck together. you saved not only my life but the lives of many others — and i am grateful for that."

she keeps her head bowed, as much as penny wants to peer into the man's eyes, make him see them. diana is proud, too — just diana knows a bit better of how gods work, of what it takes to appease her uncle.

and the appeasement works, as the air shifts subtly. his hand reaches out, presses down on her head. it feels heavy, with the weight of souls, of demand, of a god. his voice is hardly over a whisper as he says, "amazons never go back on their word; i am glad that such maxim remains true, daughter of hippolyta. do not be afraid of me; i am not like my brothers. i do not play the games that they do — what i will offer you is better than any trick, for what i will make you is more than what you were."

she can feel it spread from his fingers — a changing sense of godhood washing over her, one that has hades' own touch to it. penny can feel the hairs on the back of her neck and all down her arms stand up in response as it starts to flow into her, this change of power, this shift. diana can feel it too, both of them tensing up as more and more flows — as they change, as this thing blossoms.

"i bestow the power cosmic to you, as my new herald," hades' voice takes on a sharper note, more pleased. "it is a power that i give to you to act on my stead, not simply your own whims. know that i give it to you on my whim, and on my whim i will take it away should you ever deny me when i call upon you. you said that i saved more lives than yours, and should you break our covenant, amazon daughter, i will take their lives and yours, as owed to me. do you understand?"

penny has so many questions: when will this bargain be fulfilled? how many tasks? are lives what she is going to be collecting?

diana does not voice them, even though many of them are the same for her. instead, she shuts her eyes as she says, "i understand, Ζεὺς καταχθόνιος." his fingers squeeze down, and the deepest surge of power flows from his hands and into them. it is familiar in a way that a deep well with a never ending supply of water is, of being deep in an ocean without end, in an oblivion able to be held in her fingers and not all at once.

there is a cry — then hades is no longer touching her as the power spreads, wraps itself around her body and soul. the power here is immense, and diana almost drops the lasso; it's penny who's able to get her fingers around it as the power grows, and grows until it's flooded every nook and cranny of them both.

hades' smile is subdued with triumph; but it is triumph when she pants on the ground, as the power makes her eyesight pop with color, as she can feel it trying to tug her, to show what it was, to strike at hades' behest.

only he has given no behest. diana grits her teeth, raises her eyes.

in hades' dark eyes, she can see her form glimmering. she is as luminous as the lasso she holds, and when she stands, she can see that the light she emits is strong, and knows that with what he's given her, it could be stronger.

hades tilts his head, looking at her. "the power suits you; and i can tell that the mortal who you share with, she has a question, a need.and i will telly ou both now: i am master of the dead — the dead are to remain dead and the living to live. you may wish for the dead to come to you, but it would be a perversion of my throne to allow such a meeting in my realm." disappointment stirs in penny, but not shame. "i thank you niece, and when i call upon you, do not hesitate to meet me."

he waves his hand, and the underworld dissolves around them. they are back in their apartment, and it is a glass door that greets their reflection now. it's startling: her eyes are literal twin stars in her face, her hair glimmers, less like human black hair and more like pure liquid ink, her skin still shimmering as well.

diana is the one who turns away from their reflection and penny, minutes later is the one who picks up the phone to text tabitha. she does not mention their grandmother.

that night, she goes to sleep, her two dogs on either side of her, the lasso tucked beneath her pillow.

she expects to dream of themyscira perhaps. she does: of the ocean rolling up to touch her feet, of the sun on her back. distantly she can hear the sound of her sisters singing, can smell the fires burning and strangely, she can also smell cinnamon mixing with the ocean spray.

a hand touches her back, softly. she turns, in her dream, and it's her grandmother adelaide, eyes shining. she doesn't look like the wizened woman who died; no, she's like the photos of her that have been on the mantle, with her blonde hair blowing in the wind, her laugh vibrant. she's dressed like an amazon and when she leans over to whisper in penny's ear, she swears she says, we cannot visit in the underworld, but we can always visit in dreams.

in her sleep, she smiles.