Pluto stands quietly, watching. What on another creature might have been a smile touches his lips. On his cheek a trickle of liquid. Water from the Tarn of Eternity?
"She lives." He utters, half question, half statement.
"Yes, she lives."
There was no question now. The tears were real.
For a moment Pluto turns away, then turns once more to look at her. "I grant you your life, earthling. Care for her. Help her, human. For this I spare your life. Quickly, now, for as I forecast, the Tarn of Eternity is quenching the fires of hell, and quenching the very life from me. Yet I pass on willingly, that she may live."
He pauses, looks out toward the center of the Tarn.
"These waters, as foretold, have destroyed me."
Though Demo had paid attention only to Persephone, he had still noted the horrible oozing of Pluto's blood from a thousand wounds.
"It is over. I go to my fate. Tell her this. With her departure, what hope in Hades dwelt no longer lingers. And tell her, that in my own way, I loved and love her still."
He turns.