We danced, exchanging words that sounded casual but carried weight beneath the surface. Then the floor shuddered.
Shouts of alarm rose around us. It seemed even gods felt uneasy floating this high when the foundation itself began to sway.
Beneath my mask, I smirked as panic washed over those perfect, polished faces.
Death was coming. Literally.
My mate had come for me. Again. Always.
We spilled onto the open rooftop terrace, a vast extension of the banquet hall. It was like standing on the very spine of the sky, clouds streaming beneath our feet, the wind whipping at our hair and garments.
Beyond the city’s gleaming edge, past the long golden bridge that spanned the river of gems, the banners of the Underworld snapped in the charged air. Pomegranates and skulls wreathed in hellfire. Black and crimson against the shining horizon.
A sea of demons, monsters, and the risen dead slammed against the warded gate. The cacophony carried even to this height: metal on magic, fists on barriers, the wailing of spirits denied entry.
The godly soldiers loosed volleys of flaming arrows into the horde. But Hades was shrewd. He had placed the dead in the vanguard. How do you kill what is already slain? Arrows struck, reducing the dead flesh to ash, and they simply rose again.
An endless, grinding tide.
And at the forefront stood the God of Death.
Clad in black armor, shadows coiled around him, hellfire crowning his form. Death power radiated from him in waves, a pressure I could feel even from this distance. Every flaming arrow shattered against his shields.
This was what the Olympians truly feared. This was why they had schemed with curses and politics to shackle him.
Our gazes locked across the impossible distance. He found me instantly in the crowd of hundreds, knowing exactly where I stood.
Everyone in the background vanished. The noise, the panic, the sea of gods all faded into silence.
There was only him. Only me. Our connection lit up, bright and fierce.
My heart clenched with painful longing.
The last time we parted, he had absorbed the blow of my public abandonment. He believed I blamed him for every tragedy, every death. He carried a guilt that was never his to bear.
And still, he would not let me go. He would never stop. He would chase me across worlds, through life and death, to this gilded prison at the end of the sky.
The infinite love he had for me was so deep he’d not accept refusal. Not from the Fates. Not from Zeus or my mother.
Not even from me.
A large flock of ravens swept across the bridge, their black wings smothering the golden light. From beyond the gate, the wailing of the dead increased—a chorus of the damned, demanding entry to the immortal city.
The gods around me growled curses at Hades.Savage. Barbarian. Monster.They hurled every insult, their fear sour in the air.
These entitled beings never considered their own cruelty. They only saw others as tools to be used, discarded, destroyed for amusement.
They’d pissed off the wrong kind of power, and they believed it was the God of Death.
They did not yet understand it was me.
“I can be the messenger,” said Sebastian. “What would you like me to tell him, Bloom?”
“Tell my love I’m waiting for him to open the final bottle of Nyx’s Vintage, please.”
The Sun God vanished in a flash of golden light.
Demeter shoved through the crowd, her fingers clamping around my arm.
