Page 20

Chapter

Eighteen

P ersephone

Wine red wings crack thunder in the sky as Hydra soars high, so high I feel as though I am moments from touching the stars.

I know I’m not, know it is an illusion. But it feels like magic.

The magic feels like an overwhelm of happiness building inside me as Hydra dives headfirst for the glittering sandstone mountains that bracket the entrance into the starlit sea.

In the last moments, when life should flash before my eyes, she swoops up in a graceful arc that has us racing again for the stars.

Laughter sings from my lungs, tailing a shriek of delight.

Happiness, not my own, is a wordless explosion in my mind that bleeds into my heart.

Hydra is happy. She is so happy she is unable to contain it, feeding it to me through our bond.

I accept it as the honor it is, knowing how deeply she suffered, lonely and misunderstood in the caves below the sinkhole.

Emotion leaks from my eyes even as laughter spills from my lips. Love is so rich and full inside my heart; I feel as though I may burst with it.

Hydra charges for the stars in blinding speed before she suddenly stops her charge, letting the momentum slow her advance on the sky.

Around her neck, the coils of the necks of her other heads unwind to spear the darkness in every direction as, in a seamless act, every mouth releases a burst of Tartarus flame that rains down in thousands of tiny sparks around us.

We must look like fireworks in the sky.

Far, far below I think I hear the cheers of Asphodel City.

Hydra coils her heads back into place so that each one is a smaller flare around her primary, much larger head. She reminds me a little of the frilled lizard, only her frill is all her other heads. I am sure to others it’s a terrifying sight, but to me she is simply beautiful.

An image flashes in my mind, shared by Hydra. Usually, she speaks in words, so I’m momentarily alarmed.

“The black mountain is open.”

She angles her body, giving me a view of the black mountain and the mouth of the cave that yawns, now large enough to welcome Hydra. A shiver snakes down my spine, because the invitation isn’t one we can ignore.

“I think we’re meant to go.”

“Hades would have my heads if I took you to the Moirai without him.”

I recoil. “Don’t joke about your heads.” Hydra laughs in my mind. I cringe. “It’s not funny.”

“The story of my heads is so tragic, my Persephone, if I don’t find humor I will always grieve.”

The cave mouth yawns wider. The invitation is clear.

No, not an invitation. A summons.

I feel the tug of it as I felt the tug in my core to mate with Hades in his Gods’ Form. I felt a similar tug to sneak away to the sinkhole, to Hydra. And now, I feel it pulling me to the black mountain. To the Moirai. Without Hades.

“We can’t ignore them,” I say, though the words tremble.

“Yes, we can.” She tries to shift away from the mountain, but instead soars in a circle not far now from the mouth that beckons us closer.

“Hydra.” I stroke her scales. “You will be with me.”

“I fear I will not be able to protect you from them, my Persephone.”

“No one can. If Atropos wanted to cut the thread of my life, she has the shears to do it whether I am standing in her presence or not.”

My words must make sense, because Hydra stops fighting the pull I know tugs at her, too. We’re no longer soaring down toward the Palace where I know Hades waits, where I know he watches.

Now, we soar straight for the black mountain and the mouth of the cave that only widens further to accept us.

As we land on the stone, I hear Hades’ roar from his Gods’ Form. “No!”

And then the stone behind us simply closes, sealing us in thick darkness.

“Don’t move,” Hydra’s command is a whisper even in my mind. “Don’t breathe.”

“They won’t hurt us.” I soothe her with another stroke.

“They wanted you without Hades.”

“They must have a good reason.” With wide eyes, I try to search the darkness for any source of light. Anything to direct us to where we are supposed to go. “Can you see?”

“Only shadows.”

“Better than me. I can’t see a thing.”

Hydra huffs, but the stone around us begins to sing with the grinding of movement. It’s chilling, calling gooseflesh to the surface of my skin. I make to slide from Hydra’s back, but her voice in my mind is firm. “Stay.”

Settling in for the ride, we begin to move through the tunnel of shifting black stone. There is caution in every step Hydra takes.

Inside me, fear and curiosity stand in equal measure.

But the darkness doesn’t last long, and both the fear and curiosity are quickly fed as the stone begins to pull back to expose the same room in which I stood with Hades.

Only a few weeks have passed, and it’s not like the memory of this place has faded, and yet I can’t deny the awe that climbs inside me.

The three Moirai already stand at the cauldron of souls, gripping the edge. A collage of ages and appearances move through their bodies before they finally settle. One youthful, one middle age, and one who has lived a long life.

Together, they speak into our minds. “The Dark Prince of Golden Gods comes. He brings with him a dark storm of rage and war. The rage and war bound to him by the hatred from which he was birthed.” All three heads twist to face us.

I manage not to cringe at the absence of their mouths nor under the eerie sharpness of their knowing eyes. “You will go with him, Persephone.”

Hydra stiffens beneath me.

I’m about to refuse, when the Moirai speak again. “He holds the power of an ancient deal not yet broken.”

“You speak in riddles,” I say as Hydra gasps in my mind, “The deal of the seasons.”

The Moirai speak again inside our minds. Only, it’s not just inside our minds now. Their voices are everywhere, echoing inside my mind and out as though their words are spilled from between the shimmering veins that surge power inside this ancient black mountain.

The cauldron of souls quivers, as though the souls inside feel the power that is this trio of ancient, otherworldly beings.

“The ancient deal between Gods stands true. The soul of the Goddess Persephone lives inside you, but it is the same soul tethered to the bargain of the past. A blood bargain.”

“A blood bargain?”

“The deal stands as the blood of the bound lives in the God of the Underworld. The deal to avoid a war of Gods that would see the end of humanity, to share your soul with those he believed loved you too much to lose you. The deal that became known as the deal of the seasons.” The Moirai pause as I shiver where I stand close to Hydra’s chest. “It is the deal in which you would move between the realms. Now, the Dark Prince of Golden Gods comes to collect that which, rightfully, is owed them.”

“Me?” I demand. “He’s coming to collect me?”

“He comes for you, Persephone.”

“Who? Who is the Dark Prince of Golden Gods?”

There is a hum of energy, wild and live. It crackles over every inch of my skin, calling hairs to rise and my heart to race. “Ares, God of War and Courage.”

My gasp lodges in my throat even as Hydra shudders behind me. I gather myself enough to lift my chin in an act of bravery I’m certain each of the three sisters of fate can see through. “And if I refuse?”

“If you refuse, it will be seen as a break in the deal by the God of the Underworld. If you refuse, the blood that binds the deal will turn rancid in his belly. Toxic. It will be a swift and agonizing poison that will drain him of power, not of life. The Underworld will suffer.”

“Is there a way to break the deal?”

The cauldron trembles. A song of souls bleeds a harrowing melody into the cave, igniting the veins of cool light that ribbon through black stone.

“The deal will break when your soul is no longer your own but tethered irrevocably to the Underworld.”

The vision of the statue in the deep of Asphodel City flashes in my mind. A foretelling of what would one day come to be, called up from the deep by the Moirai and carved with their merciless blades of fate.

I steel myself. “Then I’ll give Hades my soul.”

“It is not the time.”

Frustration threatens hopelessness inside me. I don’t mean to raise my voice, but I do. “What does the time matter?”

“Ares, God of War, the Dark Prince of Golden Gods faces two paths. You are the fork in his path.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Without you in his life, he will fail to see the path of right. The dark hatred inside him will grow teeth and claws that nothing and no one will ever pull free. He will become a great and powerful God of War whom the darkness will absorb wholly and completely until that darkness spills from him like a plague to infect all who dare live.”

“And if I enter his life?”

“He will see the path of right. In your presence, for the first time in his existence, he will glimpse love. It is from you his salvation will be born.”

Hydra shuffles closer. So close, I can feel the heat of her body seeping into my back. “Why am I here?”

“We have called you here to explain that you, Persephone, have a choice to make.” Three sets of eyes, one cloudy and blind, one vivid and blue, and one black as obsidian land on me. “Your choice will set the trajectory of the future of the realms.”

“So, I don’t have a choice?”

“There is always a choice. And to every choice, there is a reaction.” The stone behind us begins to shift, and I know our invitation here is coming to an end. “The Dark Prince comes for you, Persephone.”