‘Where are my children?’ she asked, tone soft but threaded with command.
‘Zagreus is in Tartarus, working and—’
‘Fetch them for me, Thanatos,’ Persephone cut in, flicking her hand dismissively to wave him off like an errant servant.
His jaw clenched, the tendons sharp beneath pale skin, but he turned, obeying her order with reluctant steps. Yet before he had taken more than two strides, the heavy doors groaned open once again.
Persephone froze, her breath caught at the sight of Mal Blackburn striding into the hall like a storm given form. She too wore black, a gown that whispered power with every step, a sword resting across her back like a promise unspoken. But it was her eyes, those unnatural, purple eyes, that set a chillthrough Persephone’s veins. Eyes that belonged not to a woman but to something feral, untamed, and exquisitely dangerous.
Mal halted a few feet away, a slow smile curving her lips.
‘I believe,’ she said, voice silk-wrapped steel, ‘that you are sitting on my throne.’
Persephone’s teeth clenched. ‘This ismythrone.’
‘Not for long.’
‘How dare you—’
Mal raised a single hand, and silence descended as though the air itself obeyed her command. ‘This is merely a warning, Freya… or Persephone, call yourself whichever name suits your fancy. It matters little. Either way, you will soon be dead.’
Persephone laughed, the sound sharp, brittle, defensive. ‘You can only kill me upon mortal soil. How, then, do you plan on dragging me there?’ She leaned back, deliberately languid, letting her arms drape over the throne’s heavy obsidian armrests. ‘I rather like it here, actually.’
Mal’s smile deepened, and something in that quiet, dangerous curve made Persephone sit just a fraction straighter.
‘They say a mother’s love is the greatest force in all existence,’ Mal said, her gaze, those cruel, glowing eyes, never wavering from Persephone’s. But Persephone noticed the way Mal’s hand rested over her swollen stomach. ‘Every move you have made, every sin you have committed, has been for your children.’
‘Do not dare threaten my children, Mal Blackburn,’ Persephone hissed, her voice edged like a blade. ‘Or you will regret it.’
‘Is that so?’ Mal tilted her head, amusement glinting coldly in her stare. ‘Your daughter Makaria is trapped in Hell. I put her there myself, after striking a bargain with its king. The only way you’ll ever see her again is if you return the soul Iclaimed… the one I took in exchange for Makaria.’
The world seemed to lurch beneath Persephone’s feet. She gripped the throne’s armrests until her knuckles whitened, fury boiling her blood. It couldn’t be true. It mustn’t be true. She had done everything,everything, to reclaim her children, to keep them safe. And now Mal Blackburn, cursed, wretched Mal Blackburn, threatened to undo it all.
‘I have already sent Allegra to the mortal lands, where I shall soon dwell, learning the craft of witches.’ Mal cast Persephone one final glance before turning on her heel, her hair whipping behind her like a banner of defiance.
Persephone caught the faint smile curling Thanatos’ lips, a quiet, traitorous satisfaction that only sharpened the bitterness coiling in her chest.
No. She would not stand for this. She had given too much, bled too much, sacrificed too much, only for Hades’ wretched offspring to rise and undo it all once more.
‘Do you not wish to know the truth?’ Persephone asked, her own smile blooming the instant she saw Mal falter mid-step.
Mal glanced over her shoulder, one brow arched. ‘Which truth?’
‘The one concerning your father.’
‘I already know it.’
‘Do you?’ Persephone leaned back against the throne, her posture one of languid ease, but there was venom in her eyes. She felt lighter now, triumphant, for she had found a chink in Mal’s unyielding armour. ‘Are you certain?’
Mal turned fully and Persephone’s smile sharpened like a blade.
‘Hades created me solely to be the God-Killer,’ Mal said, her voice measured, cold. ‘To kill Hecate and shatter the curse that bound us all.’ She gave a slight shrug. ‘He is dead now. I endedit.’
Persephone tilted her head, studying her like a cat might a trapped bird. ‘And are you so sure he didn’t lie? Hades was ever a master of twisting truths.’
‘About what?’
‘You may have severed his curse,’ Persephone purred, ‘but yours still binds you fast. It has never broken, Mal Blackburn. You are still cursed to love Ash Acheron. Killing Hades changes nothing.’
