Page 71 of A Kingdom of Sand and Ice (Kingdom of Gods #2)

I’ve always wanted to believe that I am good. That when I die, I’ll go where the purest of souls are sent. But today, I poisoned one of my classmates just to win a silly competition. I didn’t kill him. But I can’t help questioning who I truly am after that.

Tabitha Wysteria

Mal walked through the streets of Fireheart, her chest tight with every step.

No matter how many times she squeezed her eyes shut, the violence returned the moment she opened them again, relentless, unending.

All around her, bodies crumpled to the bloodstained ground, witches unleashing spells with merciless precision, while drakonians defended their city with everything they had, their resistance soaked in sacrifice.

‘Make it stop,’ she whispered.

‘I cannot,’ came Thanatos’ voice, soft and steady. He stood nearby, his dark eyes fixed on her. Not with amusement, as was sometimes his way, but with something far heavier. Almost… sorrow.

‘You’re a god.’

Thanatos exhaled, a sound laced with centuries of weariness. ‘That is not how it works, Melinoe.’

‘Then how does it work?’ she snapped, spinning round to face him. There was bitterness in her voice, frustration clawing at her throat. ‘Why bring me here? To watch them slaughter each other and do nothing?’

‘You are here,’ Thanatos said, with patient gravity, ‘because Hades wanted you to see what lies ahead. This is only the beginning. One city, one battle. But there will be more. Countless more. And if you learn to wield your powers, if you become what you were always destined to be, you could stop it. You could change everything.’

Suspicion shone in her purple eyes, shadowing her expression. Thanatos tilted his head.

‘And before you say it again,’ he added dryly, ‘no. I cannot read your thoughts. Only that wonderfully expressive face of yours.’

‘So you keep insisting,’ she muttered, stepping further away from him. The movement made him chuckle, though there was no real humour in it. ‘I don’t have time to learn,’ she added, voice breaking with frustration. ‘They’re already dying.’

‘There is always time.’

Mal didn’t argue. What was the point? If Thanatos, in all his godly detachment, wished to believe they had the luxury of time while the city wept and burnt beneath them, nothing she said would change his mind.

‘I want to help them now .’

Thanatos shook his head, the motion sending his snowy curls tumbling, so unlike Ash’s, yet it was impossible to look at him and not see Ash Acheron standing beside her.

The resemblance was a cruel trick of fate, a temptation wrapped in grief.

It tugged at her, made her want to reach out, to let her fingers brush against his.

But she never allowed herself that weakness.

Her father had done this deliberately. She was certain of it .

‘You’re not going to let me help them, are you?’

‘Not at the moment, no.’

‘Very well. Take me back, then. It has been days of you collecting souls. I’ve had enough.’

He blinked, surprised by the steel in her voice.

She raised a brow in challenge, her hand already extended—expecting, not requesting.

She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a tantrum, of desperation.

Let him think she was compliant. Let him and Hades believe she was settling in nicely, content to play the obedient daughter of the Underworld.

She’d find her own way back.

Thanatos took her hand, his fingers curling around hers as he drew her closer, closer than necessary. He leaned in until his breath stirred the fine hairs at her ear.

‘You’re up to something, Melinoe.’ The way his voice curled down her spine was infuriating, and not something she wanted him to notice. She grimaced.

‘What could I possibly be plotting?’

Her smile was too sharp, too knowing, and it made him uneasy. Though, to his credit, he masked it well.

‘Be careful, Melinoe.’

‘Oh?’ she purred. ‘Do you bite now, Thanatos?’ Her smile deepened into something dangerously sweet.

‘Must I remind you what happened last time?’ Her attention drifted pointedly to the place where his ear was still missing.

That earned her a smile, wicked and knowing, the smile of a man planning something equally dark in return.

‘I never said you should be careful of me ,’ he whispered.

‘Yes, you did—’

But before she could finish, the earth yawned beneath them and swallowed them whole.

…

‘You're back! How delightful!’ Makaria shrieked, her voice echoing through the vast stone chamber the moment Mal hit the ground with a graceless thud, her spine protesting from the fall. She would never grow accustomed to being flung between realms like a sack of bones.

They had returned to the wyverian castle, though it stood strangely quiet. The grand hall was empty, save for Makaria, who now loomed over her with a too-bright grin, and Zagreus, who sat at the edge of the castle’s great drop, legs dangling into the abyss beyond.

‘How did it go?’ Makaria asked, eyes sparkling.

‘Where is Hades?’ Mal replied, brushing off the dust from her clothes, her tone clipped.

Makaria’s smile faltered. She gave a nonchalant shrug, but Mal caught the trace of something behind her eyes. Disappointment perhaps, or hurt. Realising she had been harsher than intended, Mal softened her voice. ‘Do you never get to see for yourself the mortal lands?’

‘Father won’t allow it,’ Makaria said. ‘He promised we’d be allowed to explore… one day. But not yet. It’s too dangerous, he says. In case other gods see us and try to take us away.’

Mal frowned. ‘Why would they do that?’

Makaria opened her mouth, then closed it again, her focus drifting towards Zagreus with uncertainty. He didn’t turn to meet her stare. Instead, he remained perfectly still, watching the endless shadow-stretched horizon with the quiet intensity of someone who had spent too long in silence.

Then, at last, he spoke—his voice low and measured. ‘Might as well tell her. She’ll find out soon enough.’

‘We’ll get into trouble,’ Makaria hissed, her voice taut with panic.

Mal stepped forward, closing the distance between herself and the brother she barely knew. He looked so achingly familiar. Like Hades, too much like him. The same dark hair. The same unforgiving jawline. The same cold grace carved into his bones.

A mirror of their father, yet something else lingered behind his gaze. Something unspoken.

‘What will I find out?’ Mal asked, her voice soft but firm.

Without overthinking it, she moved to Zagreu’s side and slid down the smooth stone of the column opposite his, settling on the cold ledge across from him.

Her legs dangled into the void, and she peered over the edge at the endless abyss below.

For the first time in her life, she feared the fall.

There were no wyverns circling overhead to catch her this time, no safety net beneath her.

And though she couldn’t truly die in the Underworld…

Still, the thought chilled her.

Something dropped beside her with a sudden thud, and Mal flinched, instinctively reaching for a weapon she did not have. But when she turned and saw it was only Makaria, she let out a tense breath, her shoulders easing.

Makaria giggled nervously and clung to her arm, pressing herself as close as physically possible. Mal resisted the urge to shove her off, to mutter something cold and distant, to reclaim the space that was hers alone, but she didn’t.

Instead, she looked into those strange, unsettling eyes, eyes that always seemed to shimmer with something ancient and unreadable.

And yet, beneath the eerie glow, Mal saw something unexpected.

She saw her, Makaria. A soul not yet weathered by time, despite the centuries.

A girl caught between godhood and girlhood, longing for things far too mortal: love, family, belonging.

A girl who spent her days ferrying souls into the Underworld for a father who didn’t let her taste the sky.

A girl who would never feel the warmth of sunlight on her skin or the sharp delight of winter wind against her cheeks.

Makaria, Mal realised, was just another soul shackled to the Underworld, just like the rest of them. Trapped in a fate not of her choosing.

And for the first time, Mal looked properly at the siblings she had never grown up with. The ones she hadn’t known existed. They were nothing like Kai, or Kage, or Haven, and yet, something stirred in her chest. An ache. A quiet, inexplicable affection.

Perhaps it was the sadness that clung to them like shadows.

The sadness of children who had never been taught how to love, or how to be loved in return.

Mal reached out and took Makaria’s hand in hers, giving it a firm, deliberate squeeze.

The gesture stole the breath from Makaria’s lips, just a soft gasp, almost too quiet to hear, but her face lit up with a gleam of stunned wonder. It vanished quickly, buried beneath layers of careful restraint, but Mal had seen it. And so had Zagreus.

‘What is Hades keeping from me?’ she asked quietly, her eyes shifting between them.

Zagreus and Makaria exchanged a look, one of those silent conversations forged through decades of unspoken understanding.

Words were not needed between them. They spoke through glances, through the subtlest of shifts.

Mal watched, her jaw tight, uncertain if they would choose honesty or retreat into silence.

At last, Makaria spoke, her voice almost a whisper. ‘Hades is cursed. ’

‘Cursed?’ Mal frowned, shaking her head. ‘Tabitha Wysteria placed a curse on all of us. It was meant to keep the gods from finding us. But it broke when I…’ she faltered, ‘when I stabbed Ash through the heart. I ended the curse.’

Makaria nodded. ‘You did. But long before that... there was another curse. One far older. One that has never been broken.’

‘I don’t understand.’

Makaria bit her lower lip, worry pulling at the corners of her mouth. She looked uncertain, torn between fear and duty, between silence and truth. The hesitation in her was palpable.