‘If you insist on gallivanting about my lands,’ Hades said, histone dry, ‘then take your siblings, Makaria and Zagreus with you.’
Thanatos spun around, irritation flashing across his black eyes. ‘I really don't think—’
‘Don't think so much,’ Hades cut in sharply, crimson eyes flashing with displeasure. ‘Do as you are told.’
Without another word, Thanatos cleared his throat and turned on his heel, striding from the room without a backward glance.
Mal exhaled sharply, narrowing her eyes at Hades. ‘You didn't have to be so rude.’
Hades rubbed his eyes wearily, as though suddenly aged by the burden he bore.
‘Answer me this,’ she said, voice cool and unwavering. ‘Did you create me solely for the purpose of forging a god-killer?’
Silence fell over the chamber, thick and suffocating. It stretched on and on, until Mal half-wondered whether he would deign to reply.
At last, he looked at her, truly looked, before crossing to the table and sinking into a chair. He seized a goblet, drinking deeply, and then stared into the hollow of it as though the swirling depths might yield the truth he could not speak aloud.
‘Would you believe me if I said no?’ he asked, voice rough with something almost real.
‘It would be difficult,’ Mal said, her heart heavier than before.
Hades took another languid sip from his goblet, and for a fleeting moment, his eyes softened.
‘Each time your mother is reborn,’ he said quietly, ‘there is some foolish part of me that dares to hope, hope that in this lifetime, she might choose me.’
The very air seemed to tighten, thick with a longing soprofound it stole the breath from Mal's lungs. This was no ordinary sorrow, no mortal ache, but something far older, far deeper, something born of eternity itself.
‘You resemble her greatly, Melinoe,’ he murmured, setting the goblet back upon the table with a soft clink. He offered her a brief, solemn nod before rising to his feet. ‘I hope you find the witch you seek.’ Without another word, Hades turned and strode from the hall, his departure as silent as a closing tomb.
And Mal was left behind, staring after him, wondering at the god who ruled the dead, a god whose heart, it seemed, beat stronger and more fiercely than many among the living.
…
Mal lay stretched across her bed, in a room fashioned to mirror the one she had left behind in the mortal world. The bed was vast enough to hold four bodies with ease, its blackened wooden headboard carved with wyverns soaring in frozen flight across an endless sky. It reminded her achingly of the bed Ash had once crafted for her in his own land, hoping to ease the weight of her sorrow.
Had he done it because he loved her? Or had it been the curse, twisting his heart to feign affection that was never truly his?
The door creaked open behind her, but she did not stir, her gaze fixed on the fire dancing in the hearth. Blue flames sparked and shimmered, casting a surreal warmth through the chamber. She supposed true cold and warmth were nothing but illusions here, mere echoes of mortal sensation. Still, she found comfort in watching the flames, remembering the hearths of home.
Thanatos sauntered into the room without ceremony, one hand buried in his pocket, the other rubbing his jaw, a smirkplaying across his lips. Without a word, he dropped down beside her, sprawling across the bed as if he belonged there.
Mal did not turn to face him; she would not give him the satisfaction.
‘What do you want?’ she asked, her voice flat.
‘Nothing,’ he replied easily. ‘You’re sad, and I thought you shouldn’t be left alone with it.’
‘I’m not sad.’
‘Yes, you are,’ he said, with a low chuckle that rumbled through the silence. ‘But we can pretend otherwise, if that’s what you’d prefer.’
‘Don’t you have something more important to attend to?’
‘No,’ he said simply.
She could feel it, the weight of his stare, those black, fathomless eyes drilling into her. With a huff, Mal rolled her eyes and turned to look at him. Words rose to her lips—sharp, angry words—but they died in her throat. Instead, she sighed and let her gaze drift upwards to the ceiling.
It wasn’t his fault.
