I’d tried to brace myself. I thought I was ready. But the truth hit hard and fast. The iron bars that came into view were solid and tall, surrounding me on every side. My body recognized the place before my mind could catch up. Before my heart could deny it.
The scent in the air. The quiet crackle of a hearth. The deep crimson of silk curtains.
Panic flared inside me, wild and devastated.
No. No. No.
I scrambled to rise, but the space was too small. The cage barely allowed enough room for me to kneel. I gripped the cold iron bars, their bite sharp against my skin, and looked up.
Hadeon stood just across from me, close enough to touch if I dared.But he wasn’t looking at me. He was speaking to someone else, someone out of sight across the room.
When Hadeon finally noticed I’d stirred, he turned, slowly, and gave me that same haunting smile. But this wasn’t the Hadeon I’d known in Torhiel. The flawless, porcelain skin was gone. Here, his flesh looked pale, almost translucent, as if he were a ghost. A phantom. His eyes were now a sharp, glowing yellow. His copper hair had darkened to a deep, rusted orange. He looked absolutely terrifying.
Hadeon’s eyes drifted back toward the far end of the room.
“I’ll be waiting to collect what’s owed,” he warned. “Cross me, and you will answer for it.”
Hadeon spared me one last glance, his head tilted with a flicker of amusement in his expression. And then, in the blink of an eye, he was gone.
Not a second had passed before I heard footsteps, ones I knew all too well. Each step struck like a blade to the chest, stealing the air from my lungs in rhythm with their approach. It wasn’t the fear I’d known in Torhiel, or even with Hadeon. This was something deeper. More primal. A fear that went beyond pain or panic. A fear that stirred something buried. It didn’t just threaten ruin, it whispered of collapse. Of becoming that version of myself I’d fought so hard to bury.
Weak, hollow, broken. A shell of who I once was.
The prince of Hyrall emerged from the corner of the room, and the sight of him alone would’ve brought me to my knees if I hadn’t already been forced on them.
His voice was hollow as he said, “Welcome back to Castle Hyrall, Odessa.”
Gadriel’s ambereyes were just as I remembered, lit with that same, quiet cruelty.
They drifted over me, crouched and kneeling behind the bars. His face was unreadable. He looked older. Colder. Our time apart had reshaped him in ways I couldn’t quite measure.
How long had it been?
The last time I saw him, he said the trip to Torhiel would take six months. Had that much time passed? Or had he come back early? Did Leya make it out?
Questions came too fast to catch. I’d been so consumed with Torhiel, with godhood, that I’d nearly forgotten this life. I couldn’t think about that now. I had to survive this.
Gadriel had always been cruel. The world had been built to fit him. He never had to fight for his place in it. In my year at Hyrall, I thought I could shape him in small ways, bend him through a quiet influence. But he was sharp. Smarter than most would guess.
And spiteful.
He held grudges with a clenched fist, refusing to let anything go.
The moment I decided to run, to escape, I sealed my fate. In his eyes, I crossed a line I could never come back from.
I want to say I was surprised when Gadriel struck a deal with a demigod of Vengeance. But if I’d been thinking clearly, I’d have seen it coming. For something like Hadeon to answer his call, Gadriel’s cry for Vengeance must have been unbearable. Terrible enough to stir something that old. But this wasn’t a clean deal. Not a simple exchange.
What had Gadriel promised Hadeon? What did he give up in exchange for capturing a demigoddess, for delivering me to his doorstep?
Was the price my life? No, Gadriel wouldn’t choose something so quick. So clean. That would be too merciful. He’d keep me here forever if he could. Locked away, breaking me down piece by piece.
And then the thought hit me. The part I’d overlooked.
Did he know what I was? Did he know demigods existed? Or did he think Hadeon was just another devil? A folktale come to fruition?
I knew Gadriel, but I didn’t truly know him.
What secrets had he kept? What did he really understand? The royal family had upheld this supposed treaty with Torhiel for generations. What if he’d known what I was all along?
