Page 54 of Where Darkness Bloomed (Of Stars and Salt #1)

In the pale light of dawn, Mycenae should have basked in golden warmth.

It was summer—high summer.

The fields should have been heavy with ripening grain, the cerulean sea glittering beneath a cloudless sky.

Instead, low clouds hung over the city, spitting sleet. An unnatural wind lashed the land, sharp and bitterly cold. It ruffled Hades’ hair, but he scarcely felt the cold over the anger rising in him as he stared across the frozen waste.

The jewel of the Aegean, Mycenae had once sparkled with life. Its harbors churned with merchant ships, the market overflowing with roasted olives, Eastern spices, rich-dyed wool, and the clamor of trade.

Now, hard frost blanketed the silent city.

Thick ice crusted the fields. Livestock huddled, lowing mournfully. The market was still, the empty streets hushed. But behind every shuttered window, desperate prayers slipped into the wind.

Pleas for warmth, for food, for mercy. For survival.

He could hear them lifting on the air like smoke.

Behind him, the air shifted, growing colder, sharper, laced with wrath. Hades felt her before she appeared, the atmosphere tensing as if the earth awaited another blow.

Demeter.

Her fury coiled at his back like a viper. His spine stiffened but Hades didn’t turn.

“Does this satisfy your anger?” His voice cut through the wind, his hand sweeping toward the frozen city. “Does their suffering bring you solace?”

Demeter stood a few paces behind him, earth-toned robes billowing as the wind whirled around her. Snowflakes spiraled, clinging to her wind-tossed hair. But her glare was steady.

Her voice was brittle with rage, cold as the wind. “Nothing will appease me but the return of Kore.”

Hades’s gaze narrowed as he turned to face her. “I know no one by that name,” he replied, each word sharp and clear. “But I will not relinquish my wife to soothe your temper.”

Demeter’s face contorted. “ Your wife ,” she spat, her voice trembling. “By what right do you dare to call her that?”

“The only right.” His voice was hard, steady as the rock beneath them. “She chose me, swore a marriage oath on the Styx to me. She was crowned by me. She rules at my side.” His gaze locked with hers. “She is loved by me.”

Demeter’s lip curled into a sneer. “You speak of love, Lord of Darkness?” Her voice dripped scorn. “How could one of shadows like you love one such as her? A child of light and air.”

Wrath reared in him, raw and scorching. The cold air between them cracked, buckling under the force of it.

He lifted a hand, pointing toward the lifeless city below. “While the men perish at Troy, their wives and children starve and freeze—by your hand.” A laugh left him, but it was bitter, hollow. “And you dare call me a creature of darkness?”

Demeter’s hands fisted at her sides. “I will do what I must to see my daughter returned,” she snapped. “She walked among them, loved them. She would never let them suffer.”

At her words, Hades turned sharply, his shoulders rigid. Shadows gathered at his feet, darkening the ground around him.

Then, Demeter laughed. It was a cruel sound, colder than frostbite.

“I see.” The words were low, taunting. “You haven’t told her.”

The air between them thickened, heavy with unspoken truth.

Hades didn’t answer.

“You’ve hidden it from her.” A smile curled in the words, sharp as a scythe. “What her absence does to the earth.”

When he remained silent, she stepped closer.

Her voice dipped into a murmur, soft and intimate. “Are you so terrified, Lord of the Underworld? Do you fear she’ll flee you at the first chance?”

Each word landed like a poisoned arrow striking deep, bleeding fury into his veins. The ground trembled, a low growl rising from the depths. It built steadily, then burst into a savage roar as the frozen soil split with a thunderous crack.

A jagged fissure tore through the earth, a chasm opening between them.

Demeter flinched, her composure breaking for the briefest moment. She drew herself upright yet yielded a step backward. With a lift of her chin, she regarded the yawning rift at her feet.

“Seems I am not the only one with a temper,” she remarked primly.

Hades turned, stepping forward until he stood at the earth’s broken edge. Shadows clung to him, thick and writhing, the Underworld surging to answer his rage as his eyes found her, black as pitch.

“You have not seen my temper in an age, sister .” His voice was a deadly snarl, rolling through the shattered ground. “But you are sorely tempting me.”

The air throbbed, alive with menace. The cold wind twisted around them, honed to a cutting edge.

Demeter took another step back, her vehemence warring with a flicker of unease. But she found her voice again. “Return my daughter,” she demanded, “or I will unleash my wrath until the River Styx chokes with their souls.”

She leaned forward, eyes furious. “And when you’ve let this world die—every man, every child, every living thing—tell me, Hades...” Her voice dropped as she buried the blade deep. “Do you think she will love you then?”

His face was stone, masking the fury and dread thundering through him. But the blow struck true, slicing into the rawest part of him. That place at the center of him, no longer impenetrable.

Now, there was her .

Demeter knew. And she struck.