Something dark flashed across his crimson stare, sharp and dangerous. ‘I would have told you, given time,’ he said, voice dropping to a low murmur. ‘I had no wish to overwhelm you at the start. But you went and ran off, didn’t you? You never gave me the chance.’
Mal leaned back against the unyielding stone chair, her posture careless, though her heart tugged painfully in her chest.
It was difficult to look around this grand hall without feeling a hollow ache. A vast chamber stretched upwards, its ceilings towering high above like the ribs of some slumbering beast. Thewalls were hewn from dark volcanic stone, cold and ancient, broken only by arched windows left bare—gaping mouths that opened onto the abyss, offering nothing but the endless void below. Every surface was fashioned from obsidian-black stone or gleaming white marble, stark in their contrast. The only hint of colour came from the hearth, where blue flames crackled and danced, casting ghostly light across the room’s austere grandeur. The room was a mirror of the one above, in the mortal realm, the one her parents occupied. A wave of longing crashed over her. She yearned to embrace them, to whisper that somehow, some way, she would save them. She would save them all from the gods who sought to crush her people, her world.
Hagan had outmanoeuvred them all, ensnaring the wyverian and wolverian armies within the desolate wastelands, sealed in by enchantments. The great wall encircling the Kingdom of Magic now shimmered with a spell that forbade passage. None could climb it, none could cross. With the armies trapped and isolated, the rest of the realms lay defenceless. It was the perfect moment for the witches to unshackle their cruelty and let loose their wrath upon the world.
Her attention drifted back to Thanatos. It hurt to look at him, at the way his face so closely echoed Ash's, like a cruel jest woven by the Fates themselves. It was a beautiful face, painfully so in her opinion. No mortal, nor god, had any right to bear such a visage. His jaw was honed to a blade’s sharpness, his skin as pale as bone, a striking match to the tousled white curls crowning his head. Only his eyes, obsidian and endless, betrayed any warmth, and that warmth appeared solely when he looked at her.
‘I must find Allegra,’ Mal declared, her voice cutting through the heavy silence.
Hades remained standing, inspecting his nails with an air oflanguid boredom.
‘And for what purpose, child?’ he drawled.
‘Are we truly to indulge in this little charade,’ she said, arching a single brow, ‘where you feign ignorance and I am expected to pretend I believe you?’
He chuckled, evidently amused by her sharpness.
‘How do I find her?’ she pressed.
‘You don't,’ Hades replied simply. ‘The Underworld is vast. By the time you stumble across her soul...’ He shrugged indifferently. ‘Perhaps a century will have slipped by in the mortal realm.’
‘I will help her,’ Thanatos said, his voice steady.
Mal did not miss the displeasure that crossed Hades’ face as he glanced down at Thanatos, a frown that made Mal all the more determined to accept the offer.
‘We shall begin here,’ Thanatos explained. ‘In the four regions. Should we fail to find her there, then...’
‘Then?’ Mal urged, her curiosity tightening.
Thanatos exhaled, as though weighed down by something heavier than mere words. ‘Then perhaps she is... elsewhere.’
‘Elsewhere?’ Mal echoed, frowning. ‘I thought there was no other place but here.’
Thanatos fixed her with a look that barely concealed his impatience. ‘I told you once before, Melinoe. There are three levels. The Underworld, with its four regions. This level, where I and the Moirai dwell. And...’
Mal's purple eyes widened with dawning realisation.
‘Hell.’
Thanatos inclined his head. ‘Yes. Hell.’
‘Can we even enter such a place?’ she asked, her voice low.
‘We can. We are gods,’ he said, leaning forward, his expression grim. ‘But let us hope it does not come to that.Hell has nine rings, each more abhorrent than the last. I would not willingly tread those paths.’
‘Fine,’ Mal said, nodding once, steeling herself. ‘We shall search the regions of the Underworld first. But if Allegra is not there...’ A shiver ghosted down her spine at the thought.
All souls were first brought to the Underworld, where their lives were weighed and judged. Those deemed worthy were sent to one of the three regions. The others, the lost, the wicked, were cast into Tartarus, there to languish until they were hurled into Hell, to suffer an eternity beyond redemption.
A memory surfaced unbidden, one of her brother’s many lectures. She had been restless then, eager to take to the skies, but Kage had insisted she first learn the structure of Hell’s many levels. Halfway through his careful explanation, Mal had grown impatient, dismissing him with promises to continue another day before darting away.
She had almost forgotten the look he had worn. The irritation, yes, but above all, the sadness. Not sadness at her disregard for the lesson, but because she had left without asking him to join her.
Oh, how she missed her brothers. She would have given anything for a single embrace, a single glance. How much time had slipped away from them? She could no longer recall. Were they safe?
The mere thought of them stung her eyes with tears. She blinked furiously to chase them away, but she knew Thanatos had seen. His cold features softened for the barest of moments before he rose, crossing the space between them. His hand lifted, reaching towards her as if he might wipe away her sorrow, might shoulder the weight of her grief. But instead, he hesitated, letting his fingers idly toy with the cutlery before her.
