Page 63 of Desired By Eros

“You don’t have any powers now,” Apollo continued, leaning back slightly, “so getting the pyxis will be hard.”

“It’s worth it.”

Apollo sighed. “Orthrus,” he called out, and the two-headed hound who guarded the Underworld along with his brothers, padded up to them, his enormous paws barely making a sound against the ground.

“Hello, my lord,” Orthus said in his deep, rumbling voice, each head speaking in unison.

“This is Eros. He needs to go to the Acheron,” Apollo instructed.

Orthrus tilted one of his heads, eyeing Eros carefully. “Ready, my lord?”

Eros glanced at Apollo and gave him a nod of thanks. “I appreciate the help, even with everything that’s happened between us.”

“Don’t worry, I still think you’re an asshole. You’ll always be amalakato me.”

“That’s reassuring,” he muttered.

He started walking, the giant hound pacing beside him. “How far away is the Acheron?”

One of Orthrus’s heads looked one way, while the other turned in the opposite direction, both scanning the surroundings. “It’s not that far, my lord,” Orthrus rumbled. “I am able to cut through the Underworld, so it won’t be much of a trek.”

“Nice trick,” Eros commented.

“Well, I have to get to parts of the Underworld quickly,” Orthrus explained. “I’ve picked up a little magic of my own.”

Eros nodded absently, but his mind was elsewhere, lost in thought. He kept walking, his footsteps slow and steady, but his thoughts were anything but calm. He wondered why Psyche had to be involved in this. It wasn’t fair to her. She was already dealing with so much, and now this?

Guilt gnawed at him. He hated that she had been dragged into his mess, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that if it weren’t for him, none of this would’ve happened. He kept his focus on the path ahead, but his heart ached, wondering how he could fix everything.

They came up to an area that felt darker than any place Eros had ever been. The air was thick with an oppressive silence, and the shadows seemed to stretch unnaturally. The ground beneath their feet was barren and cracked, a strange aura of punishment hanging in the air. The atmosphere felt like it was pressing in on him from all sides.

“I cannot go any further, my lord,” Orthrus said, his heads lowering slightly as if sensing the same heaviness in the air.

Eros raised an eyebrow, glancing around at the foreboding landscape. “What is this place?”

“It is the Fields of Punishment. You have to go through it to reach the Acheron River.”

Eros braced himself for what he was about to face. “Of course,” he muttered under his breath, “Why would it be easy?” He let out a frustrated sigh, cursing the Greek gods and their never-ending tests.

He knelt beside Orthrus, the massive hound’s two heads looking at him with attentive eyes. Gently, he reached out and petted them, each one responding with a soft rumble of approval.

“Thank you, Orthrus. You’ve been a good companion, even though I wasn’t one to you.”

Orthrus’s heads inclined slightly, a hint of respect in his eyes. “You have a heavy load, my lord. I am happy to be of service.”

With a final pat on Orthrus’s head, Eros straightened, his muscles tensing with anticipation. He took a deep breath and stepped into the Fields of Punishment.

The moment his foot crossed the threshold, an unnatural wind howled through the air, carrying with it whispers of agony and rage. The shadows twisted, forming into figures—souls condemned to suffer for eternity. Their hollow eyes locked onto him, their mouths stretching into twisted, hungry grins.

The first came fast—a towering man with chains wrapped around his body, his flesh scorched and blackened from an eternal fire that burned but never consumed him. “Give me your wings,” the man rasped, his voice like crackling embers. He lunged, fire exploding from his fingertips as he reached for Eros’s back.

Eros barely dodged, rolling to the side, feeling the heat singe his arm. He turned and kicked the man square in the chest, sending him sprawling back into the flames from which he had come.

Before Eros could catch his breath, the ground beneath him trembled. A second figure rose from the dirt—a woman with hollow sockets where her eyes should have been, her nails elongated into razor-sharp claws. “I will carve out your heart,” she whispered, her voice slithering over his skin like ice. She swiped at him, nearly catching his cheek. Eros ducked and countered with a sharp punch to her stomach, but her body was like mist—insubstantial yet solid enough to attack. She clawed at his arm, drawing deep gashes, but he gritted his teeth and grabbed a loose chain from the ground, wrapping it around her and yanking it tight. She screamed as the chains glowed, dragging her back into the earth.

Panting, Eros turned, only to be met by a third figure—a skeletal wraith, its mouth split wide in a permanent grin. It held a rusted dagger, dripping with black ichor. “Trade places with me,” it hissed. “Stay, and I will walk free.” It moved too fast, slashing at his side. Pain exploded through him, but he refused to slow down. He grasped a jagged rock from the ground and drove it through the wraith’s chest. It screeched, disintegrating into smoke.

Eros’s breaths came fast, his body aching, his wounds burning. He had to get out of here. He flexed his shoulders, forcing his wings to unfurl. With a powerful leap, he took to the sky, but something was wrong—his wings felt heavier, sluggish. He couldn’t gain enough altitude.

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