The lion pounced and Hades moved, shifting out of the way at the last second. He started to run, only to feel the lion claw his back. A pained cry escaped his mouth, and he stumbled and fell to his hands and knees.
It took him a moment to realize that the net was on the ground. The lion had managed to cut it with its claws. He ignored the burn down his back and tried to scramble to his feet, but before he could, the lion sank its teeth into his ankle. Pain roared through him, consuming him like fire as he was jerked down again.
Hades managed to roll onto his back, his leg twisting uncomfortably within the lion’s mouth as he shoved his other foot into its face over and over until it released his leg from its viselike jaws.
When he was free, he got to his feet. The monstrous lion stood opposite him, and they circled each other before the lion charged again. This time, it batted at him with its large paws and long, silver claws. He managed to dodge each deadly swipe, and when the creature grew frustrated, it gave a violent roar. Hades’s stomach turned at the rancid smell of its breath, but he charged at the lion, vaulting into the air and landing on its back.
Again, the lion howled and then took off at a run. Hades gripped its fur and shifted forward, hooking his arms around the lion’s neck and squeezing with all his might until he shook. Beneath him, the lion slowed, its panting more of a wheeze.
Finally, the creature staggered and fell to the ground.
Hades rolled onto his back, breathing hard and covered in sweat. For a long while, he stared up at the ceiling and took stock of his injuries. His foot throbbed and his back burned, but neither of those injuries hurt as much as the wound Theseus had inflicted in his side. That one made him nauseous.
He was just lucky he still had his strength, though he could tell he wasn’t at his full capacity. He would take what he could get, especially since he could not call on his magic within these prison walls.
A flash of silver caught his eye, and Hades turned his head, spotting the lion’s claws. He sat up and stretched across the space between them, brushing the tip of one talon, drawing blood with barely a touch.
Claws as sharp as blades.
Hades shifted closer and started to tear strips of cloth from his shirt, wrapping them around the longest claw several times to create a buffer. When he was sure he could grip it enough not to cut his hand to pieces, he yanked it with all his might until it broke free from the monstrous paw. It was more like a sickle, slightly curved and wider at one end.
Now I have a weapon.
His eyes fell to the lion’s corpse with its impenetrable fur.
And armor, he thought as his fingers closed over the blunt end of his new knife.
Hades set about skinning the lion, a tedious and bloody task. He did not enjoy it, nor did he think it was anything the monster deserved, but he was about to enter the labyrinth, and he had no idea what he would face. There were likely worse things than this creature.
He had no salt to spread over the hide so he used sand—not that it would help preserve the skin. He merely hoped it would make it less…wet. When he was finished, he wore it like a cloak, and with his claw blade in hand, Hades entered the labyrinth.
He was not sure how long he walked, but he quickly lost all sense of space and time. There was a quiet within the labyrinth he had never experienced. It was a physical thing that felt as solid as the walls around him.
The darkness was bitter and blinding.
The longer he wandered through the sinuous tunnels, the more he felt as though his whole body was winding and twisting too. His mood wavered. Sometimes he was angry that he felt so separate from the darkness, that he did not feel like himself. Other times, a strange peace descended on him, and he seemed to navigate through these passages with a cool detachment.
He recited poetry and then composed his own, attempting to convey Persephone’s beauty, if only to cling to his own sanity.
“Her golden hair swept down upon him like rays of burning sun,” he started and then paused. “That’s fucking stupid. Besides, I hate Helios.”
He tried again.
“She emerged from the dark, a sweet-voiced thing with hair that flowed like a river in spring.”
That was worse.
He moved on to singing.
“Is that… ‘Laurel’ by Apollo?” he heard Hermes ask.
Hades glared at the god who appeared beside him as a small, chubby baby with white wings that fluttered like those of a hummingbird.
“I will murder you if you tell anyone what you have heard here.”
“That is very aggressive, Daddy Death,” said Hermes. “Everyone listens to Apollo. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. He’s a vibe.”
Hades decided not to ask what a vibe was.
“Why do you look like that?” he asked.
“Like what?” Hermes looked down at himself.
“Like a cherub, Hermes.”
The god shrugged. “Perhaps you should ask yourself that question. You’re the one hallucinating.”
“Trust me, I would never manifest Hermes as a child. He’s annoying enough as an adult.”
“Rude,” Hermes said, and then he grew taller, and his feet touched the ground. He spun and faced Hades as he walked backward down the corridor.
“You know, Hades, what you need is—”
“I need out of this fucking maze,” Hades said.
“I was going to say fun,” said the god.
They were coming to another break in the wall, and with Hermes walking backward, Hades thought he would miss the turn, but he was surprised when he shifted to the right and continued down another dark passage.
“You need a hobby.”
“I have hobbies,” Hades said curtly.
“Drinking and fucking don’t count,” said the god.
“You’re one to talk,” Hades countered. “All you do is drink and fuck.”
“That’s not all I do,” Hermes said. “I play bridge once a week at the library.”
“What the fuck is bridge?” Hades asked.
“You own a gambling den and don’t know what bridge is? Gods, you’re really old.”
“I have hobbies, Hermes. I ride horses and play cards, and I dream about how to torture you on a regular basis.”
The god’s brows perked. “You dream about me?”
Hades said nothing.
“And…um…how exactly do you torture me? In these dreams.”
“Not pleasantly,” said Hades.
“List them out, Hades,” Hermes said.
There was a change in his tone, something a little more aggressive, almost as if he were giving a command.
For a moment, Hades resisted. He did not like taking orders, but if Hermes wanted to hear all the ways he’d earned his wrath, then so be it.
“I have considered castration, but I think you’d find that too pleasant,” said Hades.
The god pursed his lips and then shrugged. “Fair.”
“I had to nix anything that requires restraint too.”
“Unfair,” said the god.
“I could send you into the Forest of Despair, but it’s likely your greatest fear is a life with only one sexual partner.”
“A tragedy,” Hermes said.
“Which means I’d take a different approach.”
“You really have thought about this,” said Hermes.
“First, I’d curse you to always appear homely to any potential lover.”
Hermes gasped.
“Then, I would ensure you never find your rhythm again. That applies to dancing and sex.”
“You wouldn’t,” Hermes said.
“The sight of your penis would make everyone gag.”
“You beast!”
“Those aren’t even my favorites,” said Hades with a smirk. “My favorite is that every television series you start never finishes.”
“No!” Hermes bellowed. “It is true what they say. You are a cruel god.”
Hades shrugged. “You asked.”
“I did,” said Hermes. “I hope it helped.”
Hades could hear the grin in his voice, but he didn’t understand.
“What?” he asked, looking in the direction of the god, but he found he was no longer there.
Once again, Hades was alone, and while he hated the dull ache of disappointment that bloomed in his chest, he felt far more present than he had before.
With his focus renewed, he continued through the labyrinth. He had no way of knowing where exactly he was going—if he was closer to the center or farther away. He did not even know where he should be heading. He just knew that stopping was worse.
That was giving up.
At some point, he turned a corner and came face-to-face with a different kind of darkness. He halted at the edge of it, hesitant. He knew he had not made it to the end of the labyrinth. He suspected this was the middle—or closer to it at least.
How vast was this darkness? How endless?
He had nearly lost his mind surrounded by walls. What happened when there was nothing?
He let one foot slide forward and then the other, and as the dark pressed in on him from all sides, he had the thought that this was the kind of thing he would face if he was to enter the Forest of Despair—nothingness, a void.
Loneliness.
Bright lights flooded his vision, and they burned away the dark so suddenly, his eyes watered.
Theseus’s laugh echoed in the space that Hades could now confirm was the center of the labyrinth, and it truly did go on for miles in each direction.
“You look ridiculous,” the demigod said.
Hades blinked, adjusting to the light, and saw Theseus opposite him. Of the two, he was the one who did not look the part. He was too clean and too tidy for the madness of the labyrinth, dressed in his tailored blue suit and pressed white shirt.
“I suppose I would have been disappointed if you hadn’t tried to escape.”
Hades glared and held his claw blade tighter.
Theseus noticed and clicked his tongue.
“Hera will be distraught to learn you killed her pet,” said Theseus.
Hades continued to say nothing.
“You know, Hades, talking to you is like talking to a brick wall.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t.”
Theseus smirked. “But I have so much to say,” he said. “And so does your wife, apparently.”
Hades ground his teeth. He did not know what Theseus was referring to exactly, but it sounded like Persephone had done something to piss him off.
“Perhaps you can tell me how you manage to keep her quiet,” Theseus continued. “Or is it that your dick is always in her mouth?”
Hades gripped his knife tighter.
“Maybe I will have to try that,” Theseus said.
Hades charged. Racing across the floor of the labyrinth, he jumped, vaulting through the air, roaring as he brandished the deadly claw.
Theseus did not move an inch as Hades barreled toward him. A sliver of unease trickled down his spine. He knew he had missed something, and then it hit him—literally.
A heavy weight sent him crashing to the floor. He landed hard, his body denting the ground. He realized quickly that he was trapped beneath another net. His fingers tightened around the lion’s claw as he attempted to cut himself free, but he could not move his arm.
Still he tried to saw at the threads, breaking out in a cold sweat as Theseus approached.
The demigod crouched before him, watching Hades’s struggle before he spoke.
“This would all be quite honorable if it wasn’t so pathetic,” he said, plucking the claw from between Hades’s fingers. He studied it and then slammed it through Hades’s hand and into the ground.
Hades couldn’t even scream. All he managed was a pained gasp.
He glared up at Theseus, breathing hard between clenched teeth, and watched as he reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small envelope, pouring the contents into his palm.
“You’ve earned this,” Theseus said, blowing something into Hades’s face.
It was some kind of powder that invaded his nose, mouth, and eyes. He started to cough, and he couldn’t stop. His eyes watered, and his chest burned. He needed water—he needed to breathe—but then he tasted blood on the back of his tongue.
His vision swam.
I am going to die.
CHAPTER IX
PERSEPHONE
The Underworld was different.
The air smelled like sulfur, and the sky was full of ash. When the wind blew, Persephone could feel the grit of it against her skin, rough and blistering.
There were other things too. The souls had channeled their usual merriment into preparing for war. Cerberus remained restless and three-headed, uninterested in play. All the while, the glassy obsidian mountains of Tartarus taunted Persephone, a constant reminder of what had occurred in the arsenal.
As much as she recognized she was queen of this realm and now possessed power over it, she could not bring herself to hide the changes, the slow decay. It seemed fitting given what had occurred—what was still occurring—and concealing it with vines and flowers felt insincere. A corpse was still a corpse, even covered in colorful flora.
There was a part of her that wondered if the Underworld was dying, and if that was true, did it also mean Hades was dying? She pushed those thoughts away quickly. She could not bear to think like that right now. It felt like giving up, and she would never give up. She would fight for Hades until the world ended, and when there was nothing left, only her rage would remain.
“Have you heard anything?” Yuri asked.
Persephone met the soul’s wide-eyed gaze. She frowned, realizing she had become so lost in her thoughts that she had heard nothing the girl had been saying.
“About Hades,” Yuri added to clarify.
Persephone’s gaze fell to her cold tea.
“No,” she whispered.
Hermes and Apollo were on the hunt for Theseus’s men. The challenge was finding someone close enough to the demigod who would know the answers to the questions they had, though they were finding that very few knew his plans, if any.
Hecate was continuing to trace her ring, which was proving to be far more challenging than either of them expected given that it seemed to be traveling with Theseus and revealed a rather mundane routine for someone so sinister.
Nevertheless, learning the demigod’s movements was still an advantage. Perhaps they’d find someone to interrogate.
“Are the souls…” Persephone started to ask if they were afraid, but that was a ridiculous question. Of course they were afraid. It had only been two days since Theseus had released the Titans and the souls had to fight the monsters that had escaped Tartarus. They’d been brave, but there had been consequences, as she knew there would be, namely that some had not been able to withstand the trigger of battle and Thanatos had to take them to Elysium.
It had hurt everyone. It hurt now.
“Do they feel safe?” she asked instead.
“As safe as they can,” Yuri replied, and she looked out her open door. “Preparing for the worst makes them feel better.”
The street was busy with souls who were repairing or reinforcing their homes. Ian and Zofie continued to forge weapons, their hammers striking in an uneven rhythm.
It was almost like they did not trust her magic, though how could they when she did not even trust it herself? It was new, still foreign. It lived on the fringes of her energy, reminding her of the way Hades’s magic always waited in the wings, primed to protect her no matter the cost.
Persephone’s eyes burned with tears, and after a moment of quiet, Yuri whispered, her voice quivering, “I just wish everything was normal again.”
Persephone hardened against those words.
It was such a natural thing to say when things felt uncertain, but the longer she lived with loss, the more the idea of normal angered her.
There was no normal. There was only the past, and it was hopeless to wish for it even at her loneliest, because nothing could return to the way it was—not in the aftermath of this.
“There is no ‘normal again,’ Yuri,” Persephone said. “There is only new and different, and neither are always good.”
The soul frowned.
“Persephone, I—”
She rose to her feet before Yuri could finish, knowing what her next words would be.
I’m so sorry.
And she could not stand to hear them either. She could not even explain why, but they were just words, empty ones people said when they had nothing else to give.
“Thank you, Yuri, for the tea.”
She fled before her emotions got the best of her and teleported to the Asphodel Fields. By the time she arrived, she was already in tears. She looked out on the Underworld from where she stood, her arms crossed over her chest. The wind picked up, whipping her hair, and the asphodel around her swayed, grazing her gown.
She felt sick and lost, and she did not know where to go, because every part of this place reminded her of Hades, yet he was what she wanted most.
She closed her eyes, and cold tears spilled down her face.
“Lady Persephone.”
She swallowed hard and looked over her shoulder at Thanatos. She did not care to hide her pain. He could feel it anyway.
“Can I help you?”
She knew what he was asking.
Thanatos had influence over emotion. He could ease her suffering. In the past, she’d refused. She’d wanted to feel because she felt like she deserved it, but this was different.
“Please,” she said. The word was a plea, a broken cry.
Thanatos offered his hand, and she took it, warm and soft against her own, and suddenly peace fell over her. It was like…picnics in the meadow under the starry Underworld sky and baking cookies in a small kitchen with her best friend by her side. It felt like the fun of rock paper scissors and hide-and-seek.
It felt like…the first time she had looked at Hades and recognized her own soul.
“What are you thinking?”
She shivered at the sound of his voice, and chills pebbled her skin.
She opened her eyes.
“Hades,” she whispered and touched his face, grazing the stubble on his cheek.
He felt real enough, but she had been fooled by this before and did not think she could face the pain of waking alone again.