Page 57 of Queen to the Sunless Court (Brides of Myth #2)
The Price of a Miracle
Theron
Theron’s lips still burned from the kiss as the image of Calliste’s apologetic, sorrowful smile vanished from him while he plummeted through the fabric of the Underworld.
He tumbled through veils of smoke that shimmered like black brocade whipped by a gale, his head reeling from confusion.
Then it stopped, and he found himself on his knees—and now hands too—battling nausea and disorientation, but thankfully on a solid, stony floor.
A voice kept asking him how he felt, but his head swirled too much from the unexpected fall between dimensions. His stomach heaved, and he had to keep his eyes shut, because the dizziness overwhelmed him to the point where he thought he’d be sick.
Someone knelt in front of him, soft warmth streaming from their grasp, calming him. Morpheus.
“...better now?”
“Yes,” Theron replied through clenched teeth. “What in the name of all of you is going on? What has Calliste done?”
“She broke your moonstone pendant—”
“No. What is that parchment?”
Morpheus’ expression darkened as he looked at someone outside Theron’s range of vision.
Theron pushed himself to his knees. The world still spun around him a little, so he stayed still, surveying his surroundings.
He was back in the chamber with the portal.
Thanatos stood beside Hades, avoiding eye contact, his face stormy. Morpheus looked pale and tense. Hypnos was sullen, his mouth a hard, thin line, but Theron ignored him and turned to Hades. “Explain,” he drawled.
“Calliste invoked the Last Pact,” Hades strode over to him, extending his hand to help him up. “It’s a spell older than I am. I imagine the scroll belongs to her Temple, and she brought it with her to Anthemos.”
Theron digested this, his stomach settling only to sink into a terrible coldness. “I need more details.”
“It’s a bargain that can only be initiated by a mortal and fulfilled by an immortal.
If both sides agree to the exchange, the Last Pact enforces it.
She used it to give you the chance to offer Amatheia the coin, likely because she knew that fighting Eris in the Roots could disturb Erebus.
It was a brilliant move, Theron, and she’s outsmarted Eris.
I can confirm that Amatheia is at the shore of Styx, waiting for Charon’s boat.
Your son’s tree is back in the Enclave. He has returned to the mortal realm, whole and unharmed. ”
For a moment, Theron doubted he’d heard correctly. “Kalias? He’s awake?”
Hades nodded. “Indeed. And he’s fine.”
Speechless and overwhelmed with relief, Theron stared at Hades, then blinked, recalling Calliste’s apologetic expression. The unanswered question choked him like bitter smoke. “But Calliste—what did she bargain away?” His stomach sank as he noticed Hades—the king of the Underworld—flinch.
“Since she’s not back here, she must have traded herself for that chance.” Hades’ tone was bleak, hard like the tip of a spear, piercing his heart.
Theron saw movement behind Hades, and his eyes flickered to the wall framed with shards of moonstone and the image that moved within it.
A terrifying image of Calliste on her knees, inside her green, glowing globe of protection. Eris stood in front of her, roaring, incandescent and ominous.
“No,” he said, taking a step, then another, to get back to her. He got halfway before two pairs of arms caught him.
“You can’t go back,” Hades said behind him, holding him back. “She wanted you safe here, so Eris can’t use you against her! Whatever her plan is, if you go back now, you’ll ruin it, and I can’t let you use any more of your divine power there!”
“Let me go,” Theron spluttered, wrestling with him, but Hades’ grip was relentless, so he summoned his power.
Purple light flooded the chamber, and his sword blazed at his belt.
“How can you call yourself men when you stand here and watch, while she’s fighting out there, alone? Does her life mean nothing to you?”
“It was her choice!” Hades still restrained him.
Theron thrashed in his grip. “And would you let your wife fight alone?”
Prickly silence smothered the room, all the gods freezing, staring.
“No,” Hades finally breathed out. “I would not, and I’d act exactly as you do now if someone tried to stop me from helping her. But right now, Calliste is the only one capable of saving both our realms—”
“Help her, godsdamn it!” Theron’s muscles bunched as he made one last effort to free himself. “Or let me do it!”
“Hypnos,” growled Hades.
The god of dreams appeared in the corner of Theron’s vision, his crown of poppies sparkling with ruby light. He plucked a petal and lowered it in front of his face.
“Don’t overdo it,” Hades muttered. “Just sedate him.”
The petal released blueish smoke.
Theron held his breath as long as he could, but the smoke coiled around him like a seductress’s touch.
Inside his chest, the ember of fury burned, but the smoke grasped it and slithered away, making everything hazy and distant.
He was aware of his anger, but numbness took over, and he slumped against Hades, who slowly lowered him to the floor.
“Apologies,” Hades said, “I understand you better than you think, Theron. But there’s nothing we can do.”
Theron’s head lolled. He focused on the image of Calliste, his heart aching. “Help… her…” he slurred.
Hades crouched down next to him, shaking his head. His mouth was set. Then he glanced up at the image blazing on the wall.