As he speaks, the green meadow and the blue sky melt away, replaced by dark stone and red glow. The overwhelming stench of decay can mean only one thing: we are in Hades.

8

The black palace stretches high above me, like a mountain of shadow. Boy, the god-kings sure don’t scrimp on their royal residences. Although to be honest, if I had to live in the underworld I’d want to live in a freakin’ mansion, too. Inside, it’s supposed to be an escape from the surrounding world of death.

“We have to find the Hall of Springtime,” I tell Xander. According to Offerings to the Gods, the ruby pomegranate seeds are inlaid within the mosaic wall that spans one side of the hall. It’s supposed to be a beautiful scene of flowers and birds and animals and everything that represents springtime in the world above—a huge, artistic reminder for Persephone so she doesn’t get too homesick during the nine months of every year she’s stuck down here.

“How are we supposed to find it?” he asks. “This place is huge.”

None of the sketches in any of the books did this place justice. It’s expansive. If I hadn’t read so many descriptions or studied the one rough sketch of a map we found in an ancient scroll, I’d be intimidated.

“This is how.”

I pull a copy of the map I found out of my back pocket and scan the route Troy and I marked.

“We’re somewhere near here,” I say, pointing to a small side entrance to the palace. “We just have to get inside, follow this red line, and we’ll be out of here in no time.”

“That easy?” Xander asks, skeptical.

“Probably not,” I reply, stuffing the map back into my pocket. “But a little optimism never hurt anyone.”

I walk up to the normal-sized door, reach for the handle, and—despite my attempt to think positive—fully expect it to be locked. After all, why would breaking into Hades’s palace be as simple as walking in?

When the handle turns and the door swings inside, I exchange a shocked look with Xander.

He shrugs. “Guess the optimism is working.”

“Or it’s a trap.”

“Yeah,” he says, eying the hallway within. “Or that.”

Well, whatever the case, I’m not waiting around to find out. I want to get in, get out, and get back to the world above.

Pushing aside my concerns, I step through the doorway and into the palace. Nothing happens. No blaring alarms or three-headed dogs or even a squeaky floorboard. Nothing.

Looks like we’re in the clear.

“Time to follow the red line,” I whisper.