Hemera inhales a sharp breath between clenched teeth; a quiet hiss of discomfort and frustration. She was aware her friend's soul was different than she remembers (from both that odd tainted note, and from age), but right now it sounds even more foreign than familiar.

It bothers her enough that her own soul recoils reflexively, drawing closer to her as opposed to radiating outward, lessening the intensity of his soul to her senses and allowing her to focus more astutely on the matter at hand. Her fingers twitch in Ardbert's hair as she debates withdrawing from him as well.

"With such a small portion of soul to your name, why would you outlive them?" She then looks from Ardbert to Hades, brows furrowed, eyes steely, and lips pressed into a thin line. "What aren't I being told? Why am I dead?"