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Hades and the Helm of Darkness
Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades stood on a hill, gazing downward. A river wound like a snake through the gloomy valley below. It was all that stood between them and their goal—the Underworld.
Zeus sniffed the air, then wrinkled his nose. “P.U.! What is that stinky smell?”
Poseidon pointed toward the valley with the three-pronged end of his trident. “I think it’s that river.”
The river looked brown and sludgy. There was a giant sign by it that read: RIVER STYX.
Maybe the sign was written wrong, thought Zeus. Maybe it should really say: RIVER STINKS!
Hades gazed happily at the river. “What are you guys talking about? I think it’s awesome!”
“You would, weirdo,” said Poseidon. “Well, you know what I think? I think there’s no way I’m going near that river. I think that oracle is crazy.”
Zeus knew he meant Pythia, the Oracle of Delphi. She’d sent them here to the Underworld on a quest. They were supposed to find the Helm of Darkness. Whatever that was. As usual, she hadn’t fully explained. She always seemed to expect them to figure these things out on their own.
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