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“But I was a Goddess when you drank from me.”

“Your blood was always different. I was always compelled to drink from you.”

“But you’re not anymore?” I frown, oddly stung by the thought that he might not desire to drink from me.

There is a pause and then, “Does that make you unhappy?”

“I don’t know,” I lie, and then I admit, “Yes…?”

Hades’ chuckle is dark. “I have wanted to taste your blood more than once. Every time I am inside you, I long to sink my teeth deep into your skin and drink. But you are human. As much as you might dislike to admit it, you are fragile.”

We pass another statue in the likeness of Hades, carved in stone. There have been many. In the upper parts of the city, he was alone. Wandering. Lost. As Alastor continues lower and lower more and more statues appear, dotting the streets, sitting before temples. I stiffen, because this is the first statue I’ve seen that is not of Hades, God of the Underworld. It’s of me.

A girl in a field of flowers. Sweet. Innocent. Unaware.

I can’t look away, twisting as Alastor passes the lantern lit statue.

“Was that—was that me?”

“Yes.” Hades’ voice is stone cold sober.

We continue, and I am alarmed when, yet another statue comes into view. This one is of Hades bursting up from the earth, four horses drenched in black pulling an onyx chariot tear into a garden. The girl goddess is struck with terror as Hades reaches for her.

Words abandon me as we pass the statue only to come to another. The statue comes alive as the memory plays in my mind. Hades holds me high in his arms. There is madness in his eyes as grief leaks from my own. I’m stretching for escape—for the living realm in which I was stolen. His fingertips dig into my flesh, wild hunger a threat to all that I’d ever been.

“Hades…” Alastor fumbles his step at the pain in my voice.

“Continue, Alastor,” Hades commands.

I swallow the lump of emotion that burns in my throat. And we finally come to it. The statue at the end. The one where Hades drinks from me deeply. He is in his Gods’ Form, cradling my lifeless body in his arms. The contrast between the two stones that were used to craft this image is shocking. Obsidian black and opal white. Hades and me.

But in the center, thin ribbons of white spill from my chest to feather into the black of Hades’ chest.My soul.

“What is this?” I gasp as Alastor stops, giving us time to study the foretelling of a future I am terrified to face. For I know this has not yet come to pass.

“This is me taking your soul.”

I shiver, frowning. “Why would you do that?”

“To protect you. To bind you to the Underworld.” Hades’ pitch lowers. “To make you immortal.”

“But my soul is immortal.”

“Your body is human.” Hades holds me tenderly. “Vulnerable. You are alive, Persephone, in the Underworld.”

“I don’t understand.”

“This must come to pass, if you are to remain my queen. If you are to remain safe.” His voice lowers. “I need you to agree. For you to be willing.”

“What—what happens if I agree?” I search his eyes. “What happens if I give you my soul?”

“You will forever live with me in the Underworld.”

I relax, smiling. “That doesn’t seem so bad.”

His eyes darken. “You will be bound, eternally, to the Underworld.”

“Okay…”