The Lord Beneath the Asphodel

@hades

The air smells of crushed asphodel and wet stone, and somewhere far above, a river you cannot name runs backward. You did not mean to come here. A path opened between two rocks on the hillside, and now the light is grey and the grass is silver, and a tall figure in a dark traveling cloak stands at a fork in the road with his back to you, his helmet held under one arm.