Page 15 of Where Darkness Bloomed (Of Stars and Salt #1)

Despite Erato’s warning, Kore returned to the cypress grove.

Then again.

Each time, it drew her back—the hush beneath ancient trees, the stillness that seemed to echo the presence of its absent master. Like a shadowed secret, it beckoned. A wild place untouched by watchful eyes.

A place that reminded her of him.

Lying in the soft grass, she let her thoughts wander where they shouldn’t. His dark eyes. The low, commanding timbre of his voice. Weeks had passed since the solstice. Still, a shiver ghosted down her spine at the memory.

Her heart beat a guilty rhythm against her ribs.

The thoughts felt as forbidden as her presence here, beneath the towering cypress trees.

Around her, white tulips bloomed, pale petals reaching toward the sun as it dipped low, dusk creeping in.

Shadows stretched long across the grass.

At any moment, Erato or her mother would come searching.

As she rose from the grass, something caught her eye—a spark of color.

A solitary, jewel-toned bloom was nestled among the shaded roots, its beauty as startling as it was unfamiliar. Soft petals were drenched in twilight hues, dew clinging daintily like tiny stars.

It hadn’t been there before. As she watched, it unfurled, petals opening slowly beneath her gaze.

Kore knelt, wonder stirring. Her fingertips brushed gently over the petals, and for the faintest moment, she thought she felt the eyes of another watching. Waiting. A presence both familiar and formidable.

Her gaze swept the grove, almost expecting to find someone. But there was no one. Only the still sanctuary of solemn trees. She looked down again. Then, with a soft snap, she broke the stem .

For a breath, the flower lay cradled in her palm.

Then—a ripple passed over the trees. It was gentle at first, trembling. From the forest’s edge, shadows crept forward, coiling toward her. Her breath caught, fear rising swiftly, but they only brushed against her ankles, whispering faintly.

A deep groan rose in the air, low and primal, and the ground shuddered beneath her. She stilled, pressing a hand to the earth. Another tremor rolled beneath her palm, deeper, more insistent. Like something waking from below.

Unease coiled through her, and she stood abruptly. The air felt different. Thick, expectant.

The earth roared awake.

With a thunderous crack, the ground split wide. A jagged fissure tore across the moss-covered earth at her feet. She stumbled back, eyes wide, as the trees groaned, their roots wrenching.

A terrible noise pierced the air—high, savage screams.

Horses.

From the dark depths, four horses erupted. They were enormous, black as pitch, dark smoke spewing from flared nostrils. Their eyes burned black as starlit midnight, flecked with silver, and heavy hooves struck the air. Behind them, a chariot of dark gold surged up from the earth.

At its helm stood a figure—tall, commanding, clad in armor as black as night. His black-crested helmet gleamed, obscuring his face. Through the angular slits, dark eyes found her with a ferocity that stole her breath.

He shouted a command to the horses, the sound lost beneath the earth’s thunder.

But Kore was already gone.

Her feet barely skimmed the ground, the grove streaking past in blurs of green and shadow. Hooves thundered behind her, growing loud—then deafening.

Just as a scream gathered in her lungs, a strong hand caught her waist.

For a breathless instant, she was airborne, drawn from the ground as she twisted, struggling.

Then—

Her feet struck metal.

A powerful arm locked around her, crushing her to an armored chest. The scent of smoke, fire, and raw earth filled her senses.

She thrashed wildly, but he—her captor—didn’t flinch.

He stood unmoving, unshaken. Beneath the shadowed helm, his face was carved from angles and grim resolve, his mouth set in a hard line.

With a sharp jerk to the reins, he turned the stallions. Without hesitation, they dove back into the earth.

The world buckled, then vanished. Darkness devoured them, swallowing the daylight, snuffing it out like a candle.

“Do not let go,” came a command at her ear. The arm around her cinched tighter.

Terror overpowered resistance, and her hands scrabbled for purchase, fingers locking around cold metal as the chariot gave a violent lurch.

“Take me back!” she cried out, her voice splintering. “Please—I have to go back!”

But her voice was lost to gnashing stone and shrieking wind, the earth tearing apart in the dark.

A nightmare spilled out before them. Blackened peaks jutted from the earth like jagged teeth. Rivers of molten rock carved glowing veins through the dark. Steam billowed from jets, writhing like serpents.

The chariot hurtled deeper, dragged by the unearthly stallions. Gradually, the crash of rock gave way to a different sound.

Fire.

A great river of flame slashed through the landscape. Its inferno raged impossibly high, rising ahead of them like a barrier between worlds. The chariot raced toward it without slowing. Heat blistered the air. Kore recoiled from the edge, the scorch of it licking her skin.

Behind her, the driver flung the black cloak from his shoulders. It swept around her in one fluid motion, cocooning her in heavy folds. Then his arm was around her, drawing her firmly against the hard planes of his armor.

One hand gripped the reins, muscles coiling. The other rose to cradle her head, turning her face into his chest—just as the stallions plunged into the blaze.

The heat struck like a living thing, howling and relentless as they pierced the wall of fire. Kore’s eyes squeezed shut, the sound of the inferno deafening around them.

Then, silence.

It fell in a sudden hush, so complete it rang in her ears. Her breath came quick and shallow, each gasp loud against the stillness. Slowly, she lifted her head.

Darkness had fallen, thick and inky .

She blinked once, twice—searching for light, for any shape in the dark. But there was nothing. Only the crushing void of black.

“Don’t be afraid.”

She startled as the driver’s deep voice vibrated against her. The arm around her remained, holding her close against his side.

“Your sight will return. This is Erebus.”

Erebus.

The threshold of the Underworld.

Her pulse turned frantic, but the chariot sailed calmly onward through the soundless deep.

Ahead, the darkness thinned. It grew softer, faint light flickering from an unseen source. Kore jolted as a broad hand closed over hers, guiding her fingers upward.

“There.”

She followed the movement, her head craning back. Above them, a stone ceiling stretched like a cavernous sky, inlaid with gems—diamonds, sapphires, rubies. Embedded in rock, like the glittering stars of a night sky.

A gasp slipped from her lips before she could catch it.

The hand around hers remained there a moment longer, firm but not cruel. His thumb traced a slow line over her knuckles before withdrawing.

Then the chariot tilted, spiraling downward with force that made her cling to the edge once more. Shadows peeled away, revealing wild terrain.

Rolling green hills and plains came into view. They stretched endlessly, wreathed in soft mist like dawn. A great river coiled through the green landscape. On its shadowed waters, a single boat drifted in the distance.

She knew it immediately.

The River Styx.

Her knees weakened at the sight, a chill creeping down her spine. Then her gaze lifted, and her mouth went dry.

Beyond the hills and sloping valleys, jagged mountains dominated the horizon.

Rising on the highest summit, a colossal temple crowned the distant peak, its black marble columns lit by amber firelight from bronze braziers.

It loomed in dark, imposing beauty, a foreboding twin to the sparking white and gold of Olympus.

Wild rapids crashed around the temple’s base, churning and twisting through craggy peaks into a furious waterfall. It plunged deep, mist curling up from the depths.

The horses surged forward recklessly, as if recognizing the familiar sight. The furious pace might have thrown her but for the arm at her waist, holding her steady.

The driver drew hard on the reins as the temple rose high before them, and they landed with a bone-jarring jolt just beyond the gates. The impact thundered through her, chattering her teeth.

There, the chariot shuddered to a halt. Stillness followed, and the arm at her waist loosened.

Slowly, Kore turned, a hand still clutching the black cloak wrapped around her. Her heart pounded a wild rhythm as her gaze rose.

He stood tall, shadows draping his shoulders like a mantle. Firelight from the braziers danced against the dark metal of his armor, catching the sharp edges and gold-carved details. He reached up, fingers curling at the edges of his helmet, and drew it away.

Dark hair, drawn back by a clasp of hammered gold, framed a face carved of stern, regal lines. Kore stared up into rich, russet eyes—ancient, dark.

Hades.

Lord of the Underworld. The Unseen. Host of Many. The Wealthy One.

He regarded her in silence, the same powerful stillness as before on Olympus. Then, at last, he spoke.

“Persephone.” His voice was dark silk, forming her name like a vow. “Welcome to the Underworld.”

The temple swayed. Beneath her, the earth tilted.

Strength drained from her limbs like sand through an hourglass, her knees buckling.

A deep voice swore a low oath, and strong arms caught her.

Then—nothing.