She changed her earlier dress for a shimmering purple-black, floor-length gown with a train that trails several feet behind her. Gold banding cinches the dress at her waist, and banding of the same type secures the split sleeves to her wrists. Unlike her parents, Hiræth neither smiles nor frowns as she moves up the aisle. Instead, she keeps the same serene expression she practiced throughout the banquet.

The procession disperses ahead of her, clearing a path to the thrones. The soldiers form a row at the front and down the sides of the chamber, and the Elders split into pairs on either side of the dais. Hades and Persephone approach the thrones still hand in hand and only separate to take their places on either side of the central throne. Hiræth stops at the foot of the stairs, and the trumpets play a long final note, marking the end of the procession and the beginning of the ceremony. With her back to the crowd, her expression is mostly hidden, but her eyes move to her parents before she lowers her head.

“Thank you all for being here and for the generosity of your time and your gifts. The Underworld never sleeps, death never stops, and managing the afterlife is a demanding task that each of you understands intimately. There are those who couldn’t be here because the role they play is that vital. Many of you have asked me, during the banquet, about the decision we have made to leave. I want to reassure you it was not made lightly or without care for what comes next. Persephone and I,” Hades glances at his wife, “agree that this domain has been stagnant for far too long.”

“A new season is upon us.” Persephone steps down to stand before Hiræth as well. She doesn’t raise her voice; she doesn’t need to. After Hades started his speech, there wasn’t a soul in the room who would dare make a sound.

“As much as Hades and I care for each of you, as much as we may think we know best, we are also aware that we represent the way things have been. We contributed to the current state of things. For that reason, any change that comes through us will always carry the weight of tradition. What the Underworld needs right now isn’t tradition, it’s change. Naturally, that comes with uncertainty, but none of you will experience this alone. You have your partners and friends, and you have your new Queen. I trust you will be as welcoming and supportive to her as you were to me.”

“With that said, let’s not delay things any longer. Hiræth,” Hades’ expression softens as his eyes move from the rows of onlookers to his daughter. “Will you accept the crown and our parting gifts?”

“I will accept them with humility,” comes the answer.

“Kneel.”

Hades gestures to the base of the stairs, and Hiræth’s attendant appears from the crowd to place a cushion at her feet. Hiræth adjusts her dress so that the fabric pools around her as she lowers herself delicately to her knees. Hades and Persephone descend the remaining stairs and place their hands on their daughter’s shoulders.

“Hiræth, my parting gift to you is wisdom and the hope that you will be fair in all your dealings.” Hades speaks as his eyes glow and the temperature in the room falls. Goosebumps race up Charon’s arms; Phlegyas inhales sharply as he shivers. If Hiræth feels the effect of his power rushing into her, she does a masterful job of hiding it.

“My parting gift to you, my dearest treasure, is temperance. Use it well and you’ll easily find yourself with more opportunities than obstacles.” Persephone also places a hand on Hiræth’s shoulder to impart her power. A light spring breeze, carrying the heady scent of cherry blossoms, rushes through the chamber, taking an unsecured hat with it and causing a stir in the middle and back rows.

“Now, the council of Elders will bestow your crown,” Persephone says once the wind dies. “They are the voice of the Underworld, but they also have their own voices and will keep your counsel. It’s up to you to know when to listen and how to act.”

The four Elders approach Hiræth, each standing at compass points around her. They extend their exposed arms in unison and begin a chant. The words are too soft to carry, even to the front rows. But as they chant, tendrils of smoke take the shape of a wreath with a color so dark it looks black at first glance. The leaves extend just past her brow, giving the appearance of horns, while small white cornflowers spring up by her temples. The Elders back away as the smoke clears and Hiræth finally stands. With the front of her dress gathered in her hands, she ascends the steps to the throne, passing between her parents. Once there, she faces the room for the first time since her entrance.

“So many kind words have been shared today in this chamber and the banquet hall. And standing here, I can feel the weight of the task at hand, as well as your expectations. I won’t pretend I deserve the trust you’ve placed in me,” she glances at her parents, who smile supportively. “But I won’t disappoint you. The Underworld will change for the better. That is the mandate I’ve inherited, and I’ll treat it as my guiding light.” Hiræth ends her speech with a determined nod.

She lowers herself gracefully onto the throne, staring out once more behind her placid mask. When she sits, a change immediately floods through the Underworld, spreading out from her throne and continuing through the chamber. The change is visible to Charon and any others sitting by the aisles. The flowers, half blooming and half wilted from Persephone and Hades’ entry, begin to change. Those in full bloom slowly lose their petals, and those that have wilted away to nothing begin to sprout new stems.

Around the room, the soldiers’ eyes and crests, the sign of their allegiance to the throne and their binding vows, glow brightly. The symbol on their chests and on the banners they carry change from the helmet among blooms to a cluster of cornflowers. They collectively take the knee the moment the glow fades. Their metallic armor scrapes the ground, and similar thuds echo from the entrance as the soldiers outside do the same. Charon feels the effects of the change as well because his abilities are tied to the authority of the Underworld and its ruler. It’s a paradigm shift. A sense of unease, like diving headfirst into a vat of icy water or discovering an unexpected truth about a long-time friend. A murmur goes through the crowd as some attendees react loudly to the sensation and others echo their concerns.

Sensing their unrest, Hades clears his throat, quickly commanding the room's attention.

“As much as we’d love to stay with you all and discuss what comes next—the point of all this was for Persephone and me to leave. You’re welcome to stay here for an audience with your new queen, or you can take some time to comfort each other. You could also get back to work. But that’s entirely up to you. With that said,” he trails off, gesturing to the doors. “Dionysus, play us out.”