Page 56 of Maneater

There’s a particular feeling that settles in when regret comes to take hold. It isn’t just one emotion, it’s a storm of them. Sadness. Disappointment. The sting of failure. The ache of inaction. The heavy burden of self-blame. The list spirals endlessly.

But not everything in my life has earned that kind of pain. I don’t regret my upbringing, or the scars I’ve carried with me. I don’t regret the day I wandered into the market and caught the eye of the Hyrallean prince. I don’t regret the long shifts at the Greenwood Inn, or even meeting Caz.

What I do regret is not answering Torhiel’s call at twelve.

To the other demigods, it was seen as either an act of strength or stupidity. For me, it felt more like the latter.

In the dark, I couldn’t see. Couldn’t feel. Couldn’t hear. But I could still think. All I could think was, if I had answered Torhiel sooner, maybe I could’ve resisted whatever Hadeon did to me. Maybe I would’ve been stronger. Ready.

Raithe told me I still had much to learn about Torhiel. He was right. I’d only just begun to grasp the nature of my divinity. Time in this place was elusive, if it even existed at all. Days fractured here, moments bled into each other. It was impossible to grasp how long anything truly lasted.

But Raithe had felt Hadeon’s presence. He understood the danger in a way I didn’t yet.

He moved through this realm with instincts I hadn’t learned, as if the world spoke to him in a language I couldn’t hear.

Did he gain that as a child? Was he raised here, shaped by the threats that hid in every shadow?

Was survival something he had to learn from the start?

If Hadeon had lived for centuries, and all my siblings had fallen with time, then Torhiel didn’t reward strength, she demanded it.

The Ossirae might have granted us a chance, an opening into who we could become, but it didn’t protect us. It didn’t care if we succeeded. It never promised survival.

How many of us had disappeared from faded ossiraen, from ill-made bargains, or cut down by the hands of other demigods? I’d seen hundreds of god-trees in the Ossarith, each tied to a soul. But how many more withered and fell long before I ever arrived?

Immortality, I’d come to realize, was a test. And it had to be earned, again and again.

Now, I knew one of those tests had begun.

The moment my senses returned, the moment I opened my eyes, I would be forced to fight. It would be life or death. There would be no middle ground.

I’d spent my life sharpening a different kind of instinct. A quiet, watchful pessimism. The habit of always bracing for the worst. Of scanning the horizon for disaster before it struck. It had protected me before.

But not this time.

This time, it failed me.

Because I didn’t see the truth until it was too late. I recognized the danger only as it was already closing in on me .

Slowly, my senses began to return, one by one, piece by piece. The roots that had wrapped around my face, swallowing me whole, started to pull back. They loosened, like vines retreating into the earth.

Sight came first. Then sound. Then strength began to stir in my limbs.

Even as my body awakened, the darkness lingered. I was still surrounded by it.

Then I heard Hadeon’s voice, though not through my ears, but deep in my mind.

He was speaking to someone I couldn’t make out.

His Vengeance pressed in around me, thick and heady.

For the briefest moment, it felt like Raithe’s.

Something almost familiar, almost safe. But that moment didn’t last. That warmth shifted, overtaken by something older, colder, and far more ancient.

Whatever comfort I’d felt slipped away with it.

“Daughter of Wrath,” Hadeon whispered, the words reaching my ears this time. “Come to me.”

I blinked. A faint light broke through the darkness behind my eyes. It was still dim, but with each blink, the shadows began to lift. The first thing I saw was the stone floor, and my heart clenched.

No, this can’t be happening.

I’d tried to brace myself. I thought I was ready. But the truth hit hard and fast. The iron bars that came into view were solid and tall, surrounding me on every side. My body recognized the place before my mind could catch up. Before my heart could deny it.

The scent in the air. The quiet crackle of a hearth. The deep crimson of silk curtains.

Panic flared inside me, wild and devastated.

No. No. No.

I scrambled to rise, but the space was too small. The cage barely allowed enough room for me to kneel. I gripped the cold iron bars, their bite sharp against my skin, and looked up.

Hadeon stood just across from me, close enough to touch if I dared. But he wasn’t looking at me. He was speaking to someone else, someone out of sight across the room.

When Hadeon finally noticed I’d stirred, he turned, slowly, and gave me that same haunting smile.

But this wasn’t the Hadeon I’d known in Torhiel.

The flawless, porcelain skin was gone. Here, his flesh looked pale, almost translucent, as if he were a ghost. A phantom.

His eyes were now a sharp, glowing yellow.

His copper hair had darkened to a deep, rusted orange. He looked absolutely terrifying.

Hadeon’s eyes drifted back toward the far end of the room.

“I’ll be waiting to collect what’s owed,” he warned. “Cross me, and you will answer for it.”

Hadeon spared me one last glance, his head tilted with a flicker of amusement in his expression. And then, in the blink of an eye, he was gone.

Not a second had passed before I heard footsteps, ones I knew all too well.

Each step struck like a blade to the chest, stealing the air from my lungs in rhythm with their approach.

It wasn’t the fear I’d known in Torhiel, or even with Hadeon.

This was something deeper. More primal. A fear that went beyond pain or panic.

A fear that stirred something buried. It didn’t just threaten ruin, it whispered of collapse.

Of becoming that version of myself I’d fought so hard to bury.

Weak, hollow, broken. A shell of who I once was.

The prince of Hyrall emerged from the corner of the room, and the sight of him alone would’ve brought me to my knees if I hadn’t already been forced on them.

His voice was hollow as he said, “Welcome back to Castle Hyrall, Odessa.”

Gadriel’s amber eyes were just as I remembered, lit with that same, quiet cruelty .

They drifted over me, crouched and kneeling behind the bars. His face was unreadable. He looked older. Colder. Our time apart had reshaped him in ways I couldn’t quite measure.

How long had it been?

The last time I saw him, he said the trip to Torhiel would take six months. Had that much time passed? Or had he come back early? Did Leya make it out?

Questions came too fast to catch. I’d been so consumed with Torhiel, with godhood, that I’d nearly forgotten this life. I couldn’t think about that now. I had to survive this.

Gadriel had always been cruel. The world had been built to fit him. He never had to fight for his place in it. In my year at Hyrall, I thought I could shape him in small ways, bend him through a quiet influence. But he was sharp. Smarter than most would guess.

And spiteful.

He held grudges with a clenched fist, refusing to let anything go.

The moment I decided to run, to escape, I sealed my fate. In his eyes, I crossed a line I could never come back from.

I want to say I was surprised when Gadriel struck a deal with a demigod of Vengeance.

But if I’d been thinking clearly, I’d have seen it coming.

For something like Hadeon to answer his call, Gadriel’s cry for Vengeance must have been unbearable.

Terrible enough to stir something that old.

But this wasn’t a clean deal. Not a simple exchange.

What had Gadriel promised Hadeon? What did he give up in exchange for capturing a demigoddess, for delivering me to his doorstep?

Was the price my life? No, Gadriel wouldn’t choose something so quick. So clean. That would be too merciful. He’d keep me here forever if he could. Locked away, breaking me down piece by piece.

And then the thought hit me. The part I’d overlooked.

Did he know what I was? Did he know demigods existed? Or did he think Hadeon was just another devil? A folktale come to fruition ?

I knew Gadriel, but I didn’t truly know him.

What secrets had he kept? What did he really understand? The royal family had upheld this supposed treaty with Torhiel for generations. What if he’d known what I was all along?

“Why did you run, Odessa?” Gadriel asked quietly, watching me through the bars. His brow creased, like the question actually pained him. “How far did you get?”

I didn’t answer. I knew the questions weren’t real. Nothing I said would satisfy him.

Then Gadriel began to pace lazily.

“While I was traveling, word reached me from Hyrall. During the winter solstice, your squire reported you missing. Fear took hold of me then. Had someone hurt you?” He paused, letting the words hang.

“I was on the verge of approving a memorandum. A cavalry, ready to ride out and bring you home. To save you from whatever had taken you.”

Then Gadriel turned to face me, disbelief in his eyes. “But then, something changed. I received a missive from Falhurst. News of a calamity.” His voice dipped. “At first, I was stunned. Were we being punished by the gods? What could cause such devastation?”

He shook his head, as if the answer still unnerved him. “Suddenly, the pieces began to fall into place. A break in clarity. It couldn’t be you. Not you. My favored. It had to be someone else, another woman who simply looked like you. You would never leave me. My loyal servant.”

Then Gadriel’s eyes darkened. Cold, stripped of anything soft.

“But ravens fly fast, and nothing stays hidden for long.”

There was a madness in his eyes, something feral and vile.

He lunged toward the bars, slamming against the cage.

I jerked back just in time. His hands hit hard against the iron, inches from where mine had been.

The chill of the cage bit into my back. But I knew where Gadriel gripped, he could still feel the heat of where I’d touched. He stared at me, amber eyes locked .

A force hung in the air, heavy as iron, and I couldn’t tell if it came from him or the cage around me.

“I knew you were special, Odessa,” Gadriel uttered, voice low.

“From the moment I saw you in that pathetic town.” His eyes searched my face.

“You needed me. Someone to pull you out of the filth. And I did that.” A pause.

“I gave you everything. Silk on your skin. Hyrall’s finest at your table.

Wine that never ran dry. I let you forget where you came from. ”

Gadriel’s voice darkened. “But you had secrets, didn’t you?”

He shook his head, jaw tight, and stepped back from the bars. Then, slowly, he began to pace again.

“You betrayed me.” He spoke calmly. “You kept truths from me. I was furious. Still, I did what was required of me in Torhiel. I fulfilled my duty. But you didn’t. You abandoned your post. You broke your oath. You betrayed the Crown. But that’s not what stung, not really.”

He stopped pacing, scoffing under his breath.

“No, what cut deepest was realizing I’d had a traitor under my roof. A devil , hiding in plain sight. And still, I would have forgiven you. I could have broken it out of you. Peeled it away, piece by piece. Because you mattered that much, Odessa.”

Gadriel stepped closer. “And the truth is, I’ve had time to think. Do you want to know my little secret, Odessa?” He leaned in, voice almost a whisper. “I still can. I will break you. No matter what it costs.”

Gadriel had descended into a madness I hadn’t seen in him before. He knew I wasn’t like him. Knew I wasn’t of his world. A ‘ devil’, he said. But something in his voice told me he knew more than he let on. I saw it in his eyes.

He slipped a hand into his pocket and drew out a thin disc of obsidian. It was rough and unremarkable at first glance, but he turned it in his palm and the light caught on its surface. When it did, something in me went still.

I knew that shape. That texture. I’d seen it before. It surfaced from the depths of a memory like a body rising from water. It was Mag’s. The talisman she used on Raithe when we were just children. When I was still too young to understand what I was.

An stone strong enough to threaten a demigod.

And now Gadriel held it.

“Do you know what I had to do in order to get this?” he demanded quietly. “The covenants bound in blood? The bargains that I had to strike?”

He looked at me with something that resembled pity. It held a narcissistic righteousness. An obsessive affection.

“You haven’t learned what I’ve planned for us, Odessa. But when you do, something inside you will start to fracture.”