The next day dawned with the same dreary routine for Elladan, as he was once again yanked out of his cramped cell to endure the grueling toil. His body screamed with fatigue as he trudged through the oppressive slave depot, his muscles rebelling with each painstaking movement. Every step felt like a burden, his limbs heavy and uncooperative, as if shackled by an invisible weight.
The physical exertion took its toll on Elladan, and with every passing hour, his yearning for respite intensified. He craved a moment of respite, a brief interlude to soothe his weary body and rejuvenate his exhausted spirit. Alas, such solace seemed but a distant dream in the relentless torment of the slave depot.
Observing Elladan's struggle, the overseer's stern countenance softened momentarily, a flicker of empathy passing through his eyes. It was a rare display of mercy, or perhaps a practical recognition of Elladan's diminishing usefulness in his current state.
"You're of no use to me in this state," the overseer grumbled, his voice laced with begrudging compassion. "Go to the kitchen and lend a hand with the food. Deliver it to the wretched souls trapped in their cells."
A surge of relief washed over Elladan as he was granted a reprieve from the physically demanding task that had sapped his strength. Navigating through the slave depot, he dragged his weary feet towards the kitchen, each step measured and deliberate. The cacophony of clanging pots and hurried footsteps grew louder as he drew nearer, mingling with the tantalizing aroma of meager sustenance.
Pushing open the creaking door, Elladan stepped into the bustling kitchen, his senses instantly assaulted by a whirlwind of activity. Slaves and cooks, their faces etched with weariness and a shared sense of desperation, moved with hurried precision, toiling over meager portions of food for their captive brethren. The air hung heavy with the scents of bland porridge and stale bread, an olfactory reminder of the grim existence they were all trapped within.
Amidst the organized chaos, Elladan maneuvered through the crowded space, his gaze sweeping across the scene before him. There was an unspoken camaraderie among the slaves and cooks, a silent acknowledgment that their fate was intertwined, their lives bound by the cruel hand of their captors. The kitchen, though a place of sustenance, also served as a crucible of shared hardship and fleeting moments of respite.
The overseer in the kitchen assigned Elladan his new task: to distribute the meager provisions to the incarcerated slaves, those who languished in their dimly lit cells, yearning for even a morsel of nourishment. It was a responsibility that weighed heavily upon his shoulders, for he knew the desperate hunger that gnawed at their bellies and the silent cries of their suffering.
Gathering a stack of bowls, Elladan navigated through the labyrinthine corridors of the slave depot. Each step carried him closer to the imprisoned souls, his senses attuned to the palpable anguish that permeated the air. The flickering torchlight cast eerie shadows on the damp stone walls, a stark reminder of the oppressive darkness that surrounded them all.
As he approached the first cell, his heart clenched in sympathy. Through the iron bars, he caught a glimpse of hollow eyes, faces etched with weariness and despair. The prisoners' gaunt forms pressed against the cell doors, their feeble attempts to glimpse the outside world a poignant reminder of their entrapment.
With a heavy sigh, Elladan began his task. He extended his arm through the bars, carefully placing a bowl of meager sustenance within the reach of the captive soul. Their frail fingers trembled as they grasped the bowl, their eyes expressing gratitude and resignation in equal measure. The exchange was brief but impactful, a fleeting connection between two souls caught in the web of their shared suffering.
Moving from cell to cell, Elladan repeated this solemn ritual. Each encounter etched itself into his memory, the faces of the imprisoned haunting his thoughts. There were moments of silent recognition, of eyes meeting in fleeting solidarity—a shared understanding that they were not alone in their struggle.
The kitchen, a place of nourishment, had transformed into a sanctuary of fleeting solace. Here, within the confines of their captivity, a fragile camaraderie emerged—a bond forged by the shared hardship they endured and the fleeting moments of respite they discovered within one another.
Lost in the solemnity of his task, Elladan felt a sudden pressure on his shoulder, a touch that jolted him from his reverie. Startled, he turned around, his heart hammering against his ribcage, only to find himself face-to-face with the enigmatic man in the black robe. Disbelief washed over him, his mind struggling to reconcile this unexpected encounter with the haunting nightmares that had plagued his sleep.
"You thought you could elude me, my faithful Cerberus?" the man in the black robe mused, a glimmer of amusement dancing in his enigmatic eyes. His voice carried a note of familiarity as if their destinies were entwined in the tapestry of time.
Elladan's voice caught in his throat, and he could only manage a whispered plea, "Who... who are you?"
A soft chuckle escaped the man's lips, reverberating through the bustling kitchen.
"Oops, indeed, where are my manners?! In God's Realm, I was known as the lord of the dead and the king of the underworld. But here, my conditions are… let's say not as good as they should be. So, you may call me just Hades," he replied, his voice carrying a weight that resonated deep within Elladan's being.
But still, the boy stayed silent, without any will to carry on the conversation. So, god decided to break this situation.
"You see, my Cerberus, it's been quite a while since we were, hm…, separated from each other." said the deity.
"Separated?!" Ell could not manage to catch things up.
"But I am really glad that you managed to be reborn that fast this time!" continued Hades, without any attention to the words of the boy.
"This time?!"
"I can't even realize that these 400 years since our last meeting passed in a blink of an eye, hahaha!". For an unknown reason, the deity found his last words very amusing.
"400 years?!"
And Hades kept on his speech on and on. But after a little while, young Magnus seemed thick of these weird talks. Elladan's mind swirled with a mix of confusion and disbelief. 400 years? Being reborn? The god of the underworld standing before him? It was all too much to comprehend, and Elladan struggled to make sense of the strange revelations. That is why he decided to leave his company. But when Elladan tried to do so, he heard the sounds of explosions and felt the earth shaking…