Eight
The black palace stretches high above me, like a mountain of shadow. Boy, the god-kings sure don’t scrimp on their royal residences. Although to be honest, if I had to live in the underworld I’d want to live in a freakin’ mansion, too. Inside, it’s supposed to be an escape from the surrounding world of death.
“We have to find the Hall of Springtime,” I tell Xander.
According to Offerings to the Gods, the ruby pomegranate seeds are inlaid within the mosaic wall that spans one side of the hall. It’s supposed to be a beautiful scene of flowers and birds and animals and everything that represents springtime in the world above—a huge, artistic reminder for Persephone so she doesn’t get too homesick during the nine months of every year she’s stuck down here.
“How are we supposed to fin
