He does not look at the viewer. Hades, lord of the dead, turns his face in profile—a silhouette of absolute authority carved from shadow and stone. The throne room of the underworld rises around him in dark marble, every pillar etched with skulls and funerary motifs. A single torch casts its amber glow across his stern features, leaving half his face in darkness, as if the king himself is part of the realm he governs.
At his side, Persephone holds the pomegranate—not as a trophy, but as a covenant. The fruit that binds her to the underworld for half the year, the seeds that ensure the cycle of death and rebirth. Cerberus, the three-headed hound, lies at the foot of the throne, his eyes gleaming with watchful intelligence. The scene is one of stillness, but not peace. It is the quiet before the turning of the seasons.
This image reimagines the myth through the lens of neoclassical engraving, where every line and shadow carries symbolic weight. The torchlight suggests both illumination and concealment, reminding us that the underworld is not a place of punishment but of transformation. Hades, often portrayed as a villain, is here a solemn ruler—neither cruel nor kind, but necessary.
The pomegranate, held in Persephone's hand, becomes the axis of the composition. It is the object that ties the queen to her throne, the king to his bride, and the living to the dead. In this quiet moment, the myth breathes: not as a story of abduction, but of acceptance and power shared in the depths.
