Page 114

Eve

I could not close my eyes, not to speak of sleeping.

The sounds vibrated in my head, roars and snarls that refused to go away no matter how hard I tried.

I turned over in bed to stare at the empty space beside me.

I reached out to Hades’ side of the bed; it was cold, as it had been for the entire week since Hades left. A week since he refused to return.

My heart sped up again as the memory of that day played on my mind.

The way he had been the last time I saw him.

Bile rose in my throat at the acrid scent of the rotten black blood that had oozed from his arm as he bit down.

His eyes, those red-black orbs, had been locked on mine, even through the chaos.

They hadn’t been his eyes, not the Hades I knew.

Yet, even in their feral depths, there had been something desperate, something pleading that sent a shiver down my spine.

I closed my eyes tightly, trying to block out the image, but it was no use.

The memory was etched too deeply, clawing at me like the talons he had barely restrained.

It wasn’t just the monstrous transformation that haunted me—it was the pain that radiated from him, the torment in his voice when he roared my name like it was the only thing tethering him to sanity.

I turned over in bed again, the sheets twisting around my legs, a physical representation of the chaos in my mind.

The room was suffocatingly silent, and yet my thoughts were deafening.

He wasn’t here. A week had passed, and he hadn’t come back.

I didn’t understand why it bothered me so much, why it felt like his absence seemed to tug painfully on my heart.

For all the times we had bickered, for all the sharp words and colder silences between us, his absence felt like a jagged hole in my chest. I hated admitting it—hated the vulnerability that came with the thought—but a part of me twisted painfully at the empty space beside me.

He unnerved me, yes, but he also anchored me in ways I couldn’t explain.

It was strange, and he was stranger than I thought.

"You don’t know what you are doing to me," I recalled his ominous words. It hadn’t been flirtatious or mocking.

His voice had rung with sincerity, and for the first time, I wondered how I could be responsible for such a monstrous transformation.

The black veins, the sinister gaze, the talons—all left me questioning if I was indeed cursed.

Maybe I had been too optimistic about the prophecy being a sham because someone in a memory—disguised as a dream—told me so.

Maybe I was cursed. Maybe my title, the cursed twin, held weight.

I couldn’t think of any other reason why he would have said those words to me.

My heart jumped into a gallop in my chest.

I sat up in bed, the darkness of the room suddenly more suffocating than it had been just a moment ago. Had I infected him with a curse? Did he realize how I had done it? By now, did he realize I was not the blessed twin but the opposite? These thoughts made it impossible to sleep.

"Is it because I am cursed?" I had asked him.

The silence and his absence were nerve-wracking because, in the quiet, there were too many answers, and all of them terrified me. My words hung in my memory, echoing in the darkened room like a haunting refrain. Is it because I am cursed?

I couldn’t forget the way he looked at me after I said it—confusion, yes, but also something deeper, something that cut to the marrow of my insecurities. Maybe he was piecing it together even then. Maybe that’s why he left. Maybe I was the reason for his suffering.

A shiver ran through me as I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, my bare feet pressing into the cold wooden floor. I couldn’t stay still anymore, couldn’t lie there with the weight of my thoughts pressing down on me. The quiet was too loud, the shadows too suffocating.

I paced the length of the room, arms wrapped around myself as if that would stop the trembling. What if I’m the reason he hasn’t come back? The thought slammed into me like a fist to the chest, leaving me breathless. What if my curse isn’t just ruining me, but him too?

My mind churned, replaying every interaction we’d had, every fight, every moment of tension.

The way he looked at me with that strange mix of exasperation and…

something else. The way he protected me, even when he had no reason to.

The way he fought himself that day, holding back a monstrous force that wanted nothing more than to destroy and consume.

And then there was the way he said my name. The growl of it, rough and raw, as if it was the last shred of humanity he could cling to. I shook my head, trying to dispel the heat that flushed my face. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on the complexities of Hades. I had to focus.

If he doesn’t come back… The thought trailed off unfinished, too heavy to carry. My chest tightened, and for a moment, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I pressed a hand to my heart, as if I could still the frantic rhythm pounding against my ribs.

"No," I whispered to the empty room. "He’ll come back. He has to."

But what if he didn’t? What if he was already too far gone? Or worse, what if he stayed away because of me? The prophecy loomed large in my mind, a dark cloud that refused to dissipate. I had always tried to brush it off, to push it to the back of my thoughts, but now it felt inescapable.

Was it possible that I was the cursed twin after all? That my presence in Hades’ life, in anyone’s life, was nothing more than a slow poison? I wanted to believe I wasn’t, but the doubt was corrosive, eating away at every logical thought.

My pacing slowed, and I found myself standing by the window, staring out at the moonlit landscape.

The night was calm, a stark contrast to the storm raging inside me.

The silver glow of the moon reminded me of him—of the way his eyes could flash with fury, or with something gentler, something that I didn’t dare name.

I leaned my forehead against the cool glass, closing my eyes. "Hades," I murmured, his name a prayer, a plea. "Please come back."

But the room offered no answers, only the echo of my voice in the darkness. And I was left alone with the weight of my fears and the hollow ache of his absence.

---

Hades

I opened the door to the bedroom, every muscle aching, the remnants of spasms still twisting under my skin like restless snakes.

The contamination had receded for now, thanks to Kael and his damn syringe, but it left me hollowed out, exhausted, and on edge.

I shouldn’t have been here—not yet—but something had drawn me back. An obligation, perhaps. Or a weakness.

Mate.

The thought slithered through my mind, unwelcome and infuriating. It was a lie, a cruel twist of fate meant to bind me to something I didn’t need. I clenched my jaw, suppressing the surge of irritation that threatened to bubble over. I wasn’t a fool. I knew better than to indulge in such notions.

The door creaked softly, revealing the dimly lit room. My eyes scanned the space, noting every detail with the cold precision I relied on. The tangled sheets, the faint scent of her lingering in the air, and then… her. Standing by the window, staring out at the moonlit sky like some forlorn ghost.

Her silhouette was small, her arms wrapped around herself as if she could shield against the chill. Pathetic, really. She had no idea the kind of dangers circling her, the kind of dangers I brought into her life. I should have stayed away. It would’ve been cleaner, easier. For both of us.

Her voice broke the silence, soft and fragile, barely more than a whisper.

"Hades," she murmured, her breath fogging the glass. "Please come back."

The sound of my name on her lips sent a ripple through me, sharp and biting. I ignored it, or at least, I tried to. I reminded myself that this was meaningless. Whatever she thought she wanted from me, whatever connection she believed existed, was a figment of her imagination.

I moved forward, silent as death, my bare feet gliding over the cold marble floor. She didn’t hear me approach—of course she didn’t. She never paid enough attention, never understood the weight of her vulnerability. It was foolish. Dangerous.

I reached her without a sound, my gaze fixed on the tension in her shoulders, the way she hugged herself as though she might disappear if she let go. I stopped just short of touching her, the beast inside me stirring at the proximity. It wasn’t hunger. Not entirely.

"Is begging beneath you now?" I said, my voice cold and detached, cutting through the quiet like a blade.

She flinched, her body stiffening as she turned to face me. Her wide eyes met mine, shimmering with unshed tears, and for a moment, I felt something sharp twist in my chest. I buried it immediately, masking it with the indifference I wore like armor.

In the moonlight, I studied her face. Kael hadn’t lied. Her eyes were bloodshot, shadowed by dark rims. Her skin barely had a flush of color, pale as the moonlight itself. She hadn’t slept since I’d been gone.

"Hades," she breathed, her voice trembling. She blinked, as though trying to convince herself that I was real.

I crossed my arms over my chest, keeping my expression unreadable. "You’re up late."

Her lips parted, but no sound came out. She looked at me like she was searching for something—an explanation, an apology, a reason. I gave her nothing.

Then she surprised me. She slammed against me, wrapping her arms around me for the second time.

Before, I could compute what was going on, she slackened against me, suddenly limp.

She fell back but I caught her. For a moment, there was something akin to panic that tore through me before I noticed her even breathing. She had finally fallen asleep.