The wyvern screamed, the heavens wept,
As angels fell and demons crept.
A thousand blades, a secret spell,
They dragged him down the throat of hell.
Now shadows stir when night is near,
And winds still speak of rising fear.
Mal cleared her throat, her voice soft with remembrance. ‘The tale of the first wyverian king.’
Kage nodded, never looking up from the ancient tome. ‘They say he was devoured by his own hunger for power. Corrupted and ruined until a witch cast him into the very bowels of Hell itself.’
Mal smirked. ‘If only that were true.’ She rose with ease and bent to plant a kiss on his cheek, grinning at the way discomfort shone across his features.
‘You don’t believe in Hell, then?’ Kage asked, his tone curious, catching her just before she could glide away.
She paused at the door, half-turned, studying her brother—the elder of the two, yet at times far more fragile than he let on. ‘I do. But stories like these are meant to soothe us to sleep, nothing more. No wyverian has ever mastered the art ofshadow-walking. Not truly.’
‘Perhaps one day, one will.’
Her purple eyes gleamed with quiet yearning. ‘Perhaps.’
Then, like mist unravelled by dawn, the memory dissolved, its colours bleeding into nothing. A hand on her shoulder drew her back into the present. Mal blinked and found Thanatos crouched beside her, Allegra nowhere in sight.
‘You ought to rest,’ he said gently, his voice softer than usual. ‘You’ve been out here for hours. You need to stop.’
Mal groaned as she shifted, her body stiff, unyielding. Thanatos helped her rise, and she nodded in thanks, quickly sidestepping his touch once upright.
‘Give yourself time,’ he said, sorrow flashing in his dark gaze as she moved away from him.
Mal folded her arms tightly across her chest. ‘I don’t have time.’ With slow, weary steps, she made her way back towards the looming castle, her heart heavy, her spirit dulled with disappointment. Some part of her had foolishly believed the magic would stir naturally, as if it had been waiting all along.
Before crossing the threshold of the castle, Mal halted abruptly, turning to face him. It was impossible not to marvel at the ethereal beauty he possessed, standing tall against the ashen skies of the Underworld, draped in black, his pale curls tousled by a breeze that did not exist, and those fathomless dark eyes fixed upon her.
‘If I don’t succeed…’ she began, her voice barely above a whisper.
‘You will,’ he replied at once.
‘But if I don’t,’ she pressed, lifting her gaze to meet his. ‘Please. Teach me to wield my godlike power. Let me have something, anything, I can use. If I can master it, I might be strong enough to tear the wall down.’
‘Melinoe…’
‘Please.’Her hand found his arm, her grip trembling as her voice cracked. ‘They’re counting on me. I can’t fail them.’
The memory of her siblings—of Kai’s grin, of Kage’s quiet wisdom—rose like a tide, and she choked on it, the image of Haven’s end shadowing her heart.
Without a word, Thanatos drew her into his arms, holding her close, his fingers threading gently through her hair. Mal stiffened at first, stunned by the tenderness, but then, slowly, she yielded. She let herself be held, for the first time.
‘Promise me, Thanatos,’ she murmured into the hollow of his chest.
And though no pulse beat beneath his cold skin, Mal could have sworn, in that fleeting moment, that his heart stirred, just once, for her.
‘I promise,’ he whispered, and the vow lingered between them like a prayer.
It doesn’t matter what anyone says. No one will ever truly understand what it means to have purple eyes. To be hated for something you were born with, something you cannot change no matter how hard you try. To be met with fear, with loathing, with suspicion long before a single word has left your lips.
