There is a place deep beneath the soil of our feet, where either our Heaven or our Hell awaits for us. We are not counted on our sins, and we are not doted on our intelligence when we meet the God of the Underworld.

He'll have his hands on the pearl, each palm spread wide against the smooth marble until our lives play in the fog of it- his dark eyebrows will hitch up, his pale fingers will drum on the pearl if he grants you peace- his jaw will tick if he damns you.

Trangressions and tenderness are tallied.

Whatever God you believe in is the Heaven or the Hell you'll recieve, memories are kept but the bad are swept away- and the choice to be reincarnated is open for any law-abiding soul, but with the knowledge if they come back with a bitter life- they'll spend an eternity in their own Hell.

But this is not a story of Hades, the God of the Underworld, kin to the man that reigns the sea as Poseidon, or second to the brother, Zeus, that has been told to be the God of Gods.

This is a story that begun when the the wife of Hades outwitted her husband, and descended back into Earth three months early in the cold of December.

Where our main heroes are the villains to their own love story, when a love triangle between Gods and Goddesses are conflicting, when the Goddess of Spring has eyes for a bright pair of black irises. This is the story of man that's trying to put himself back together again with the help of a greater demon. This is the conflict of a stripper working in the wrong side of town with a man that calls himself Reaper, falling in love with the girl that has only thirty two days to live.

This is how they found ransoms.