He has his dream world to manage, and I own death. That’s simply who we are.
To showcase that, I press my palm to the black wall and watch as a dozen runes light up, just like the candles did upon my descent to the lower levels of the Netherworld Kingdom.
This layer is only ever accessed by me and the dead souls being temporarily released for an exterior jaunt around the realms.
They all return eventually.
Either by choice or by force.
The death world calls to them naturally, drawing their essences back home in waves.
Unless, of course, one is resurrected.
But that’s not why we’re here. I just need access to my power, the energy flourishing in these walls enough to give me a boost.
Except that sensation of wrongness only grows.
“Do you feel that?” I ask Morpheus.
“The icy chill of death?” he asks. “Yes, Hades. I do. I believe it’s coming from you.”
I narrow my gaze. “So much for collaborating.” Because clearly this was a waste of time.
“Collaboration typically involves communication, Cousin,” Morpheus drawls as he folds his arms across his chest. “Tell me what you’re sensing, and I can better comment.”
The muscle in my jaw ticks. It would be so much easier to ignore him. However, I would be a fool to do so right now, especially as it involves Serapina’s safety.
I may not like or want him to be involved in her life, but I can’t deny his usefulness. He’ll protect Serapina until his dying breath. Then regenerate and continue guarding her. Over and over again.
I know this because I feel the same way.
Which makes him a competitor… and, grudgingly, an ally.
“Hades?”
“Life,” I tell him before he can say anything other than my name. “I senselife.” Which shouldn’t exist down here. This is my world. My creation.My power. So why does it feelalive?
Serapina possesses Persephone’s soul, which suggests her link to a lively power. But she’s still human.
So this isn’t from her.
“Someone has been tampering with my energy,” I go on before Morpheus can comment. “And there’s only one Goddess powerful enough to do so.”
“But she’s locked up in Pandora’s Box,” Morpheus says, the words ones I was about to utter.
So I repeat them with a nod before adding, “Now tell me what you sense. Because I need to know if this is something only I’m noticing or if you feel it, too.”
He considers me for half a beat before pressing his palm to the obsidian rock. His wince is the only indication that he feels uncomfortable, but I know that touching the chill of death has to hurt him more than most. He lives in a world of fantasies, his dreamland full of aspirations and desires.
My world is where those aspirations and desires come to die.
His cheekbones protrude as he clenches his teeth, showing a bit more of a disturbance now. However, as he pulls away to look at me, I know it’s not death that upset him, but something else entirely…
“Demeter,” he says, fury in his tone. “She’s been here.”
“How is that possible?”
He shakes his head. “I would have to ask Ares.Though, I suspect he won’t be of much use. This has something to do with Serapina and whatever Demeter did to her in the Monsters Night world.”
