CHAPTER VII
PERSEPHONE
Persephone wore a pale pink dress with a pleated skirt. The neckline was square and modest—classy, Sybil had said as she handed her a set of pearl drop earrings to pair with the outfit. Leuce agreed.
“Clothing is a language,” she said. “It is just as important as the words you speak.”
“And what exactly is this outfit communicating?” Persephone asked.
Sybil brushed a stray piece of her hair behind her ear so that it blended with the elegant sweep of her curls. “It communicates warmth, intelligence…authenticity,” she said. “So that when you apologize, they believe you.”
“Even if I am not sorry?”
Sybil shared a glance with Leuce and sighed. “I know it doesn’t seem fair, Persephone, but Helen’s article has brought your integrity into question, and you must rectify that.”
It seemed like such a foolish thing to be concerned with given that Harmonia was not healing and Hades was missing, but this was not just about her reputation. It was about the reputation of all gods.
Since Helen had met Theseus, she had launched a media campaign against the Olympians, calling their rule into question, and while Persephone had plenty of issues with the way some of the gods reigned, Triad was far more problematic. They were quick to demand justice when the gods did not act according to their own ideals and claimed to be able to grant what the people wanted—wellness, wealth, and immortality. They were the same desires that had mortals seeking a bargain with Hades at Nevernight, ready to sacrifice their souls in the hope of something better.
But even if Triad’s demigods managed to answer prayers, all they would do was prolong their inevitable fate.
Persephone had learned that the hard way, and so would the mortals who had benefited from Triad’s divine power. The question was how much influence the demigods would hold by the time the truth was discovered.
“You can do this, Persephone,” said Leuce. “Just…be yourself.”
The problem was that being herself meant being angry and unapologetic.
“Leuce and I are going to go check on Harmonia before we leave,” Sybil said.
“Of course,” said Persephone.
When she was alone, she turned from the mirror and crossed to the bar. She poured a glass of whiskey and drank it, swallowing hard against the burn in her throat before pouring another. As she downed the second, tears were already blurring her vision.
She let them overwhelm her for a moment, her shoulders shaking before she managed to compose herself. She wiped the tears from her eyes and then poured another glass, taking a deep breath before she brought it to her lips.
“Drowning your sorrows?”
Persephone turned swiftly.
“Aphrodite,” she breathed. Her eyes flitted toward Hephaestus, whom she was also surprised to see. “I’m so glad you’re all right.”
The last time she had seen her was on the battlefield outside Thebes when Ares had launched his gold spear in her direction. Aphrodite had stepped into its path. Persephone would never forget how her back had arched at such an odd angle once pierced or how Hephaestus had bellowed his anger and pain.
The Goddess of Love offered a small smile. “Yes. I am all right.”
Persephone could not help it. She drew the goddess in for a hug. Aphrodite stiffened but soon relaxed and returned the embrace. After a moment, Persephone pulled back.
“What are you doing here?”
“I have come to see my sister.”
Persephone felt the color drain from her face.
“I’m so sorry, Aphrodite,” she said. “I—”
“Do not apologize, Persephone,” Aphrodite said. “If I had known…”
Her voice trailed away, and Persephone knew why she faltered. There was no sense in agonizing over what could have been or what they should have known. Things just were, and now they had to deal with the consequences.
Aphrodite took a breath. “You look beautiful,” she said.
Persephone smoothed a hand down her stomach and glanced at her dress.
“I do not feel like myself.”
“Perhaps it is because Hades is not here with you,” Aphrodite said.
Persephone swallowed hard, and fear moved up her spine. What would the other gods do when they discovered Hades had been captured by Theseus?
“How did you know?”
“Hermes told me,” Aphrodite said and then hesitated. “Zeus held Council today and stripped us of our powers for helping you in battle.”
“What?” Persephone asked. A sudden cold numbed her entire body.
“I managed to ensure Hephaestus retained his power,” Aphrodite continued, glancing back at her husband, whose fiery gaze was locked on her. Persephone could not tell if he felt gratitude or frustration, but now she understood why he had come. He’d had to use his magic to bring Aphrodite to the Underworld. “We will have weapons for the coming war at least.”
When they had stood opposite Zeus outside Thebes, Persephone had not thought twice about what would happen in the aftermath of battle. She had just been grateful to have allies.
Now all she felt was guilt.
“Do not mourn for us,” Aphrodite said. “It was our decision to fight for you.”
Persephone shook her head. “How could he?”
“There are few instances where Zeus will illustrate his full power,” said Aphrodite. “One is when he feels his throne is threatened.”
“Aphrodite,” Persephone whispered.
She did not know what to say. The thought of Aphrodite, Apollo, and Hermes being powerless made Persephone sick with fear. It did not matter that Hephaestus could forge powerful weapons for their defense. Theseus and his men were already targeting gods with full power. What happened when he discovered these three were powerless?
If Aphrodite was worried, she did not let it show. She continued. “The real danger is that Zeus has declared a competition—whoever can bring you to him in chains will win his aegis, his shield. It is likely that Artemis will take the bait. I cannot speak for Poseidon, though I imagine he will defer to Theseus. Ares I can…persuade.”
Persephone wondered exactly what that meant, though it was evident the gods had some kind of bond. Ares, known for his lust for battle and blood, was only shaken from his reverie when he’d wounded Aphrodite.
“Does Apollo hold no sway over his sister?” Persephone asked.
“Right now, they do not seem to be on the same side,” said Aphrodite. “Perhaps that will change. Until then, you must be careful.”
Persephone had known there would be consequences for standing against Zeus, but his actions toward her showed just how much he feared her and the prophecy that had predicted his downfall.
“If she keeps me from Hades, I will show no mercy.”
“I will not fault you,” said Aphrodite. “Though you should know that Apollo does love his sister.”
“Then I will give him fair warning,” Persephone said. She paused, swallowing hard, and when she looked at Aphrodite again, her eyes were misty with tears. “I have to find him, Aphrodite.”
The goddess offered a small smile and then placed her hand on Persephone’s shoulder.
“There are few things that survive war, Persephone,” she said. “Let your love be one of them.”
Persephone looked out the windows of Alexandria Tower. On the street below, amid piles of melting snow, journalists, television crews, and mortals gathered beneath the hot sun. She should have been prepared for this given the crowds that had gathered outside the Acropolis after her relationship with Hades went public, but this was different, and it wasn’t even about the number of people. It was about the energy in the air—a chaotic mix of worship and scorn. It was heady and strangely addicting, if not a little unsettling, especially given Aphrodite’s news.
Even now, as she scanned the crowd and the skies, she wondered if Artemis would attack in such a public way, though it did not seem like her style. She was the Goddess of the Hunt and would likely prefer stalking her prey.
Persephone shuddered at the thought, but it also filled her with anger, and her magic ignited, an aura blazing around her. She would let it rage while she spoke, a barrier between her and the masses.
“They have been out there for hours,” said Ivy. Persephone glanced at the dryad who stood beside her, nibbling anxiously at her lip. “They started lining up before it was even dawn.”
She did not take their eagerness as an illustration of support. Most were curious and only wanted the chance to say they had seen her in person. Then there were the Impious, who only came to express their disdain. They were easy to pick out from the crowd, holding signs that read “Freedom and Free Will” and “Go Back to Olympus.”
The latter was ironic given she had never resided there, but it illustrated how the faithless viewed all gods—as one and the same.
But this wasn’t about turning the Impious to her side. It was about gaining the admiration and worship of those who were already on the side of the gods.
She needed that power right now. It would fuel her in her search for Hades.
Persephone turned from the window.
“Is it time?” she asked, looking at Sybil and Leuce.
“You have two minutes,” the oracle said, checking her watch.
Persephone’s stomach clenched, and she took a breath. Just get through this, she thought. And then get to Hades.
“Mekonnen and Ezio will walk out before you,” Sybil said.
Persephone smiled at the two ogres who had positioned themselves in front of the doors. They usually spent their evenings handling security for Nevernight, but today, they would serve as her bodyguards in place of Zofie.
A familiar ache blossomed in her chest.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you up this early, Mekonnen,” she said.
The ogre smirked. “Only for you, Lady Persephone.”
“Time,” said Sybil, meeting Persephone’s gaze. “Ready?”
She wasn’t sure she’d ever been ready. Not just for this but for anything that had come her way, yet she’d survived.
She would survive this too.
Mekonnen and Ezio led the procession, taking their places at the edge of the steps just outside the doors to Alexandria Tower. Persephone followed, hit with the roar of cheers and taunting jeers as she approached the podium to speak. The sound burrowed into her ears, an ebb and flow of excitement and anger, mixing with the rapid whir and flash of cameras.
She took a moment to absorb it, to accept that this had become her reality.
“Good afternoon,” she said, speaking too close to the mic, amplifying the pop and crackle of her voice, but the resulting feedback silenced the crowd with a deafening hiss. She was quiet for a moment, adjusting her stance before she continued. “By now, most of you have probably seen the article printed about me in New Athens News by a former colleague.”
She did not wish to speak Helen’s name, though Persephone knew her statement would only draw more attention to her ex-friend. She could only hope what she had to say would cast doubt on her credibility.
“First, I would like to say that it is true that I hid who I was from you.” Persephone’s voice quivered as she spoke, and she paused to take a breath, saying her next line with far more composure and confidence. “I am the Goddess of Spring.”
There were cheers and some applause but there were also boos and angry chants—Deceiver! Liar!
She ignored them and continued.
“I am sure many of you were surprised to discover that Demeter had a daughter, but my mother was reluctant to share me with the world. She kept me locked in a glass house, depriving me of friends and worshippers. At eighteen, I convinced her to let me go to college. I’m still not sure why she agreed, except that I think she was comforted by the fact that I was powerless—and powerless I was. I could not even coax a flower to bloom. How could I be a goddess when I had none of the attributes that were supposed to make me divine? So when I entered the mortal world for the first time, I felt like one of you. And I loved it. I did not wish to leave it, but sometimes you are called to your purpose, and I was called to mine.”
It had taken time, but Hades had been patient. He had brought her magic to life while showing her that divinity was more than power—it was kindness and compassion and fighting for the people you loved.
The thought brought tears to her eyes.
She paused to clear her throat.
“It was not my intention to cause hurt or harm, and I am sorry if you feel deceived by my actions. I know you must now think us worlds apart, but for the longest time, I truly only ever felt mortal. Even now, I am not asking for sacrifices or altars or temples built in my name. I am only asking for a chance to be your goddess, to prove I am worthy of your worship. Thank you.”
Persephone stepped away from the podium as a chorus of voices shouted.
“Persephone, who is your father?”
“Show us your divine form!”
“When did Hades discover your divinity?”
“Lady Persephone will not take questions,” Sybil said into the mic as Mekonnen and Ezio blocked her from view and Leuce stepped to her side.
Though the crowd was loud and most of the voices unclear, a few vicious words reached her ears—a chant that made her blood run cold.
“Death to all gods! Death to all gods! Death to all gods!”
CHAPTER VIII
HADES
Hades flexed his fingers around another stone, his joints stiff from mud and overuse. His back ached as he carried the heavy brick from the ancient floor to the high labyrinth wall where he added it to the final row of steps he had built. He hoped they would hold his weight long enough so that he could reach the top of the wall and get his bearings to plan his escape.
He was not sure how long he had been at this, but he was fueled by the taste of Persephone on his tongue. He did not care to think long on how she had come to be before him, but if Theseus had intended to torture him, her visage had the opposite effect.
“I will pry a stone from your lover’s ring each time you stop,” he’d threatened.
In truth, Hades had never ceased to work; he had merely chosen a different project. One would have thought Theseus would be far more careful with his words. Though it was not as if he were a man of his word.
Despite this, Hades was under no delusion. He knew the reputation of Daedalus’s labyrinth. Even the famed architect could barely escape his own creation—such was the folly of man, to create the thing that destroyed him—which was why Hades had not entered the labyrinth.
It was better to observe as much from above than to get lost attempting to navigate a nearly impossible trap.
And he imagined Theseus’s maze would be even more challenging.
Perhaps he had not even made it escapable.
But Hades had to try.
If only he was at his full strength…
If you were at full strength, you wouldn’t be here, he snapped at himself.
It did no good to think of what he could do with magic. With this net draped around his body, he was essentially mortal.
He had never been so aware of physical pain, never so aware of the weight of anything, save Persephone.
AlwaysPersephone.
His wife and queen.
He grew anxious thinking about her. Theseus had said the last time he had seen her, she’d faced Demeter. What had come from that confrontation? He hated that he did not know, hated that he could not sense anything beyond this prison. It would not even matter if he were free of the net. This place was made from adamant, and it suppressed his magic.
Theseus had thought of everything when he’d laid his trap, and perhaps that was what worried Hades the most, because he knew Persephone would come for him. Theseus knew that too, and Hades would never forgive himself if she ended up in this hell.
That thought renewed his determination, and he began his ascent. He’d made the steps steep, and they wobbled beneath his feet. The higher he went, the more he clung to the next stone as if it might keep him from falling. It was another thing he had never thought much about but now dreaded—the fear of falling, of feeling pain.
His muscles tightened as if anticipating his failure.
When he reached the highest step, he rose to his trembling feet, palms sliding over the coarse stone, stretching until he could reach the top of the wall. He tested his grip and lifted himself, arms shaking. When he managed to get his upper body on the top of the wall, he led with his injured side.
“Fuck!” he barked, the pain sharp and biting. He seethed between clenched teeth as he dragged the rest of his body onto the wall and collapsed.
He lay there for a moment, breathing hard and sweating before he sat up, pressing a hand to his side, slick with blood, and looked out over the labyrinth.
He’d hoped from here he might have an idea of how to escape this fucking pit, but what unfolded before him was a vast network of tunnels that stretched for miles, disappearing into the darkness. This place did not appear to have an end or beginning.
Still, it seemed better to go over the labyrinth than through it.
He was going to have to pick a route and pray to the Fates.
Gods, he was really fucking desperate.
He rose to his feet and considered his next move. He tried to guess the direction of the cells based on how far he’d walked with Theseus, but there was something disorienting about this place. Not to mention that the walls were a lesson in strategy as they varied in thickness and distance—some were narrow and close while others were wide and farther away.
He decided he would try for a straight path through—or as straight as he could manage.
Looking down at his feet, he assessed the distance between himself and the next wall.
The first jump was not so difficult as it was about the length of his stride. The second, though, looked like a chasm stretching before him, and there was nothing below but darkness.
He had always felt at home in the shadows, but not here. This was not his darkness. It was born of some other kind of evil—one he did not wish to be consumed by or let out into the world.
He jumped, landing on the very edge of the wall. He wavered for a moment before falling forward on his knees. The impact was jarring, but he was growing used to the pain. He rose to his feet again, holding his side, and prepared himself for the next jump.
There was a part of him that worried he was only fooling himself. Perhaps all he’d done by scaling these walls was provide entertainment for Theseus and his men, but even if that were true, at least he’d tried to fight this fate.
At some point, he paused to look back but found that the path behind him looked the same as the one before him.
This place was fucking maddening.
He faced forward again and then jumped, his foot sliding as he hit the wall. He fell, catching himself with one hand before he could plummet into the depths of the labyrinth, grunting as his weight jerked his arm painfully. He hung there a moment, digging his fingers into the stone before he swung his body, reaching for the edge with his other hand, but his fingers slipped.
“Fuck!”
But his curse was drowned out by a low, vibrating growl. Hades looked down into the gleaming eyes of a massive lion before it launched itself at him.
“Fuck!” he said again and dropped down into the labyrinth. As he hit the ground, his legs buckled beneath him. The lion bounced off the wall and landed behind him.
Hades scrambled to his feet, and the two circled each other.
The lion bared its white teeth and roared, its breath a sickly breeze that carried the stench of death. It turned his stomach and made him wonder what exactly it had been feeding on.
He knew this lion.
It was the Nemean lion, famous for its impenetrable hide and its silver claws, sharper than swords.
Even if Hades had weapons, they would not help him here.