“Still a wallflower?” I ask by way of a greeting. For some reason, my usual social anxiety doesn’t show up around Hades. There’s a sense of familiarity between us. I assume it’s because we’re connected by my Reaper power.
His ice-blue eyes twinkle as he laughs, until he does a double-take. His grin drops.
“Who in the realms desecrated your soul?” He roars, glaring at Sin. “If you did this, there will be no place in the universe that you can hide. I take care of my own.”
Sin immediately growls at the accusation. “It wasn’t my doing.”
The god turns back to me, looking both shocked and appalled. “How are you even standing? I’ve never seen a soul so damaged.”
The hollow void in my chest pinches, and I try not to groan at being reminded it’s there. Not having a better answer, I shrug. “I do yoga. Highly recommend.”
Hades stares at me, still looking gobsmacked, when I’m struck with a brilliant idea. If I blasted the door without apocalyptic consequences, then maybe I can do it again.
I take a measured (shaky) breath and try to pull at the smallest amount of power from the two wells inside of me. The powers fuse, sparks snapping over my skin.
“Don’t!” Hades yells, his panicked shout filling the room.
He isn’t fast enough. A small bolt of purple energy snaps at the wall next to him.
Nothing happens.
My shoulders slump, but this time, the energy continues to build. It feels like fire is spreading through my organs, searing my lungs. I try to breathe, to return it to a dormant state, but it doesn’t respond. My panic rises until a warm presence presses against my back.
“I am very invested in seeing you do yoga,” Sin whispers against my ear, and his fingers trace a teasing path over the column of my neck.
I shiver, and my focus shifts, now trying not to be aroused in front of the God of the Dead. The violent power inside of me quiets.
“Please donot, under any circumstances, use your combined energies in my realm – ever again,” Hades urges, panic still lacing his tone.
“Why?” I ask, genuinely confused.
The last time we were here, Hades seemed excited about what I could do once I got rid of my Keeper bond. He was convinced that I would be a badass when both the Creator and Reaper powers were fully rooted within me.
This visit is taking an extra disappointing turn.
The look Hades gives me is a cross between fear and pity, and my stomach twists.
“That was before you had a dangerously unstable soul,” he explains.
“Yes, we already know she is going to start to decay until she dies. But that isn’t going to happen, because she is going to take a piece of my soul, and we are going to fix the damage,” Sin growls back, and the room is cast in a faint red glow.
My soul is a bit of a touchy subject for him.
Not needing to have this conversation again, I quickly exclaim, “Well, we just wanted to check if you were done with your rock era, but clearly you aren’t, so we’ll be going now.” I turn on my heel, all but dashing for the door.
I only make it a single step before Hades’ voice stops me short. “You’re wrong.”
A tiny spark of hope lights inside of me, and I turn to face him once more. His expression is hard.
The hope fizzles out.
“You’re not simply going toloseyourself. All broken souls share one characteristic: as they decay, they become violent,” he warns.
A wave of fear washes over me, and my mind immediately rebels.
I’ve spent enough time being afraid.
“Can’t I just fix my own soul?” I ask, suddenly having another stroke of genius.
