Page 27 of A Kingdom of Sand and Ice (Kingdom of Gods #2)

‘I know,’ Makaria whispered. ‘You used to pray for her. For all your siblings. I used to wonder if… if you might ever pray for us.’ She let out a wistful sigh. ‘Hopefully, Haven has found her way into the Asphodel Meadows.’

Mal’s heart clenched. She had studied the realms of the dead with Kage—the tortured fires of Tartarus, the broken souls of the Fields of Mourning, the grey peace of the Meadows. She had memorised their myths, their meanings. But her sister was no ordinary soul.

‘My sister is in Elysium,’ she said softly, a small smile brushing her lips.

Makaria’s eyes widened. ‘Only the purest of souls are welcomed there.’

‘I know,’ Mal said again, her voice tinged with something bittersweet and proud.

Makaria nodded, though it was clear she had more to say. Mal didn’t ask. She knew better than to speak hope aloud in a place like this. The dead could not return. Not even gods could undo that law. But one day, she would find her way to Haven’s side. To her brothers. To peace.

Until then, she would do whatever it took to keep those still living from falling into the dark.

Even if it meant claiming the Underworld for her own.

…

Mal arched a brow at the silver platter set before her, the gleaming cutlery arranged with unsettling precision.

The sight across the table was stranger still: Hades, god of the dead, reclined like some nobleman at leisure, sipping wine as though he hadn’t a care in the world.

At his left hand sat his two progeny—Makaria and Zagreus—and at his right, the ever-brooding Thanatos.

It was difficult not to look at Thanatos.

The wretched spectre of a man had an infuriating habit of watching her, a crooked smirk playing on his lips as though they shared some unspeakable joke.

From time to time, he would chuckle to himself for no reason at all.

An eerie, hollow sound that made Mal itch to launch her goblet straight at his smug face.

‘Can you read my thoughts?’ she asked sharply, her fingers curling around the hilt of her knife.

‘Not here,’ Hades replied, slicing into a slab of meat that reeked of decay.

‘And why not?’

‘Different level,’ Thanatos interjected smoothly, his eyes shining with warning, as if she were meant to silence herself. Naturally, she kept going.

‘What part of the Underworld is this?’

Makaria let out a nervous laugh, high and strange.

‘This isn’t—’ Thanatos began, only to pause and glance at Hades for silent permission to continue.

Once granted, he spoke, voice low and measured.

‘There are three levels. There is the realm of souls, ruled by Hades. Then there’s this place shared by the Moirai and myself.

And lastly, there is a deeper realm still. One that must never be entered.’

‘Hell?’ Mal asked.

Thanatos inclined his head, albeit reluctantly.

‘And what makes this level so different?’ she pressed.

Makaria giggled again, but Mal’s sharp glare cut it short.

‘Will someone kindly tell me what I’m not understanding?’ she hissed, her violet gaze landing on Thanatos with scorn. He ignored her, feigning a sudden interest in his wine.

Tired of their games, Mal hurled her knife. It whistled past Thanatos’ head, burying itself into the stone wall just behind him.

‘That was rather rude,’ he said mildly, as though she’d merely spoken out of turn at a tea party.

‘I missed on purpose.’

‘I certainly hope so. Terrible aim otherwise.’

Grinding her teeth, Mal pushed to her feet, hands clenched at her sides. ‘Enough. Explain.’

Thanatos sighed, once more looking to Hades, who gave a faint nod of assent. ‘Technically,’ he began, ‘the Moirai and I exist apart from the other gods. We cannot be killed nor cease to exist for we are death, after all. This place… it’s a sanctuary, of sorts.’

‘Safe,’ Makaria added, her voice barely more than a whisper, eyes fixed on the table.

‘Safe from what?’ Mal demanded.

‘Everything,’ Thanatos said with a casual shrug. ‘Thoughts cannot be read here. Souls cannot wander in uninvited. Nothing can be harmed, not truly.’

‘Then why don’t you live here?’ she asked, eyes narrowing at Hades.

A shadow passed over the god’s crimson gaze, dark and pained. His face twisted for the briefest moment, some private memory clawing to the surface. Makaria bit her lip, shrinking ever so slightly. Zagreus exhaled sharply through his nose.

‘I built this place for someone,’ Hades said at last, his voice like splintered glass.

‘A sanctuary for her. I had intended for us to dwell here together.’ He lifted his glass once more.

‘Now, it serves only as a monument. A reminder of what was lost. I thought perhaps Thanatos and you might find use in it.’

Mal growled, her fury simmering just beneath her skin.

‘You will remain here and learn from Thanatos,’ Hades said, ignoring the way Mal’s lips pulled back, revealing fangs sharp enough to tear through bone and sinew.

‘For what purpose?’ she hissed.

‘A war stirs on the horizon,’ he replied, voice calm as a graveyard breeze. ‘And you, my dear, are the key to saving us all.’

Mal stilled, a tremor of uncertainty threading through her spine. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘The gods grow restless. They wish to wipe the slate clean—every kingdom, every soul, every memory. All will be reduced to ash so they may birth a world anew. But you… you can stop them.’

‘Why me?’

‘Because god against god is merely noise. Petty squabbles among immortals. But you… you are something different altogether. God-born, witch-marked, and wyverian. A trinity of power never before seen. Once you learn to wield your gifts, to master what lies dormant within you…then, perhaps, even the gods might tremble.’

Mal narrowed her eyes. ‘What gods? Are there more than you?’

Hades chuckled, the sound dark and low. ‘Oh, Melinoe, you’ve no idea. Compared to them, we are mercy incarnate.’

Her shoulders sagged as she sank lower into her chair, staring down at her hands. Just one girl. How could she possibly stand against the fury of gods? Surely Hades was twisting truth for some unknown game, playing with her mind like a bored child with a doll.

‘He’s not lying,’ Thanatos said, his tone devoid of its usual smugness. For once, he was serious. ‘If you do not become what you were made for, the kingdoms will fall. Everyone you care for will be extinguished like a snuffed flame.’

What you were made for. The words echoed inside her, heavy with consequence. She locked them away, for now.

‘But why?’ she whispered. ‘Why would they destroy everything?’

Her eyes drifted towards Makaria, who was fidgeting in her seat, shoulders tight, hands twitching. Mal had come to know her moods well enough. She was keeping something hidden, something urgent.

‘They are gods,’ Hades said with a casual shrug. ‘And gods are cruel.’

It was a lie. Not spoken, but stitched into the fabric of the room. Thanatos’ fleeting and uneasy glance towards Hades. Makaria biting her lip, holding herself back from truth. Mal saw it all.

Let them lie. She would find the truth, piece by piece, even if she had to drag it from their mouths or the shadows themselves. Thanatos knew. Makaria too. The truth was there, coiled like a serpent, waiting. And one day, Mal would unearth it.

The real reason the gods sought to erase their world.