Just as suddenly, the spinning stopped. I was spat out onto soft, damp grass, landing hard on my tailbone. Shaking off the disoriented feeling, I let my senses stretch into the space around me. The cuffs stifled my power, but not my perception.
I was no longer in the mortal realm, and with cold clarity, I knew that I’d never walked this particular realm before—not even as a goddess.
It dawned on me why they’d brought me here. In this realm, Hades would not find me, my presence erased from his senses. Had he realized I was gone yet? I forced the thought down. I could only hope Morrigan reached him in time—her betrayal didn’t erase her need to heal him for her own ends.
Magic was potent in this realm, saturating the air in a way that was absent in the mortal world. The air smelled of heavy blossoms and aged wine. A distant melody from a flute wove through the breeze, singing of lost time and longing. This had to be the Fae realm, a place that ran on magic alone, where human technology was not just absent but impossible.
It was the one place Nero could not follow. The Fae had warded their entire world against the gods. That explained the handoff at the portal: the minor gods could not cross. This new, silent crew were the ones permitted entry.
And I was certain, with every refined sense I possessed, that they were all Fae.
For over an hour we walked, across grass, then stone, then what felt like a wooden dock. I was guided into a boat. The wind carried the scent of mist and strange blossoms that had never grown in mortal soil.
As Persephone, plants and creatures had always answered my call. I could have turned the forest against my captors back in France. Could have broken free. But I had chosen this: to enter the snakes’ pit, to learn the final, dark truth.
A Fae pressed me onto a bench. Water lapped the hull.
I kept silent, observing, filing each detail away—the scents, the textures, the distances. This intelligence would mean survival later.
The boat moved, propelled not by oars or engine but by magic. It glided swiftly, and time itself seemed to blur within this realm. Eventually, we slowed, docking with a soft bump.
I was hauled from my seat onto solid ground.
We entered what felt like a natural cave, vast and echoing. The delay of our footfalls returning—seconds long—spoke of caverns of impossible scale.
We moved through what felt like corridors—I could tell by the shift in formation around me, the way my escorts adjusted their steps. Though the hood stole my sight, I could feel the pulse of magic from each being, could count their number by their magical signature.
Then, the groan of a heavy door swinging open. Around me, the nervous gasps of my escorts, struck with awe and fear.
A single hand took my wrist, pulling me forward. The others remained behind, not daring to cross the threshold.
I understood why immediately.
Bottomless, ancient power slammed into me, unlike anything I had ever felt, even in the presence of the King of Gods. A wind, born of no air, whipped my hair and pressed my clothes tightly against my body. For a moment, I froze, unable to step further.
This power did not come from a being, but something else that I couldn’t put my finger on.
As I stood there, unmoored, the Fae tugged my sleeve.
“You must go,” she said, her voice quiet and flat. “Be careful of the stairs.”
She led me down a winding stair that spiraled deep into the earth. We descended for what felt like an age, until at last we reached the bottom.
Forward again. The roar of rushing water filled the space, and a cool drizzle kissed my skin—rain inside a cavern.
I stood at the heart of the core power now. It brimmed in every atom of this place, pressing against me from all sides, a weight that threatened to buckle my knees.
“Was the trip eventful, Eve?” a female voice asked—musical, strange and familiar at once. It echoed from some deep chamber of Persephone’s memory, from an eon ago.
“No,” Eve, the Fae beside me, replied. “She’s the most cooperative prisoner.”
“She isn’t known for fighting back,” a second female voice chuckled.
That stung. Persephone was always perceived as a weak minor goddess.
“You may remove her hood, Eve,” the first voice commanded.
Eve pulled the hood away, and brilliant light flooded my vision. I shut my eyes against the glare, waiting two heartbeats before daring to open them again.
