A Touch of Chaos (Hades x Persephone Saga Book 7)

Persephone opened her eyes to find Galanthis sitting on her chest, staring down at her.

When the cat saw she was awake, she leapt to the ground.

Persephone lay there for a moment, feeling as though she’d surfaced from some kind of nightmare, except she could still remember everything. The agony had been waking to discover she was still trapped in the labyrinth and nowhere close to Hades or the life it had shown her.

Her face felt sticky with tears, and there was a bitter taste at the back of her throat. When she sat up, her head spun, and she closed her eyes against the nausea roiling in her stomach, remnants of poison from the thorns.

When it had passed, she rose to her feet, picking up her blade, which she found on the ground beside her. Scanning her surroundings, she discovered Ariadne lying on her side. She was awake, and Galanthis sat nearby. Somehow, the feline—or whatever it was—had pulled them from the labyrinth’s snare.

Persephone crossed to Ariadne.

“We have to go,” she said and took her hands, helping her up.

Ariadne did not argue, and in what muted light they had, Persephone could tell she had also been crying. Her face glistened, wet from her tears. While she wondered what Ariadne had seen, she did not ask. It was going to be hard enough to get through the labyrinth without thinking about what they’d experienced in the time they’d been out—harder still not to go back and find that place again.

If anything would take them down within these dark corridors, it would be that—the claws of a perfect world calling them home.

Persephone looked down one dark passage and then the other, uncertain of which direction they had come or which direction they should go.

She looked at Galanthis, who was licking her paw. It was as if she suddenly remembered she was a cat and not some other creature that could take down a boar and lead them from other realities.

Persephone picked up the spool of thread. “Which way to my husband?” she asked.

Galanthis finished cleaning her paw before she met Persephone’s gaze. Soundless, she rose to all fours and started down the corridor. Persephone exchanged a look with Ariadne before they followed along, quiet. Though Persephone had no ability to read minds, she had a feeling they were both dwelling on the same thing—their deepest desires.

She wondered if she could retrace her steps and stumble back into that world.

Suddenly, she felt a sharp pain on her arm. She hissed and looked to her right. Ariadne had pinched her.

“I know what you are thinking,” she said. “But you cannot go back.”

Persephone ground her teeth. She was frustrated, both by the fact that Ariadne had known exactly what she wanted and because she felt weak.

“The danger wasn’t the dream,” said Ariadne. “It’s the aftermath.”

Persephone knew what she meant. It was the yearning. It would have them both wandering the labyrinth forever in search of their greatest desire, never to find it again.

They continued on, following Galanthis down dark passage after dark passage, each turn making Persephone dizzy and disoriented.

“Tell me a truth,” Ariadne said, her voice cutting through the dark like a whip.

“What do you want to know?” Persephone asked. She couldn’t really think; her mind was brimming with memories from her perfect world.

“Anything,” said Ariadne. “What was your first memory?”

The question caught Persephone by surprise, and she had to think for a moment before answering. “My first memory is of me crying,” she said. “I’d reached for a rose because I thought it was beautiful, not aware that the stem was full of thorns.”

She’d always remembered the feel of it puncturing her skin, a sharp sting she’d felt over her whole body.

“My mother was more concerned about the rose and let me cry while she mended the petals I had shaken free.”

When she had expressed her pain, Demeter had offered no comfort.

“Let that remind you of the consequences of touching my flowers,” she’d said.

Persephone had never considered it before, but perhaps that experience was why she would later kill flowers with her touch.

Ariadne met Persephone’s gaze, and there was a flash of regret in her eyes at having asked, but Persephone got the point. It took her mind off the false memories of the dream and the endlessness of the labyrinth.

“What is your favorite memory?” Persephone asked.

Ariadne took a moment to respond, and Persephone wondered how many she had to choose from. It sounded like a strange thing to compare, but Persephone could only think of a few favorite memories, and most of them had been made with Lexa or Hades.

“Probably the times I spent with my sister,” said Ariadne.

“All of them?” Persephone asked when she gave no other details.

“Yes,” Ariadne said, pausing a moment. “We were alone a lot growing up, and I took responsibility for her. I made sure she was dressed and ready for school. I made her lunch and her dinner. I made sure she had fun so she didn’t realize what I realized, which was that our parents were too busy for us.”

Suddenly, Ariadne’s desperation to rescue her sister made sense.

“You can’t keep taking responsibility for her, Ariadne. She makes her own decisions.”

Her mouth hardened. Persephone imagined it wasn’t the first time she’d heard that.

“I would have taken care of her forever,” said Ariadne. “She didn’t have to choose him.”

“Maybe that’s why,” Persephone said. “Because she wanted you to be free.”

Ariadne paled. Those words seemed to hit her differently than the others. After that, they were both quiet until Persephone stopped.

“Do you smell that?” she asked.

Ariadne paused and took a deep breath. “Oh gods,” she whispered and exchanged a look with Persephone, confirming what she suspected—something nearby was dead and decomposing.

A terrible fear seized her heart, and for a brief moment, she let herself wonder if it was Hades.

It can’t be, she told herself, even though she knew it was a possibility given that this was Theseus’s domain and he could kill the gods.

They continued forward, and the smell grew worse. It was sickly sweet and pungent. It made Persephone’s eyes water and her nose burn. She wanted to gag as saliva flooded the back of her throat. She wasn’t sure she was going to make it without retching.

Then Ariadne began to heave, and Persephone couldn’t take it any longer.

She bent over and threw up.

“This is fucking terrible,” she said, placing the back of her hand to her mouth.

Now her throat was on fire, and her nose was dripping with the same contents she’d spewed. In some ways, she did not mind because it deadened the stench of decay.

When Ariadne was finished vomiting, she hiked her shirt over her nose, and Persephone did the same. It did not help much, but it wasn’t like they had a choice. Galanthis was still leading them forward, farther into the labyrinth and closer to death.

Finally, they rounded a corner, and through blurry eyes, Persephone saw the source of the smell. A large mound of flesh lay a few feet ahead.

“What the fuck is that?” Ariadne asked.

Galanthis did not seem as worried, trotting forward without a care in the world.

They followed carefully behind, approaching the corpse.

“What is it?” Ariadne asked.

Whatever it was, it was massive and skinless.

“I don’t know,” Persephone said, but as she neared its head, she thought she could guess. “I think…it was a lion,” she said.

“Oh gods,” Ariadne said right before she threw up again.

Persephone waited until she was finished to speak.

“What do you think happened to it?”

“This is the work of a person,” said Ariadne.

“Hades?” Persephone asked.

“Maybe,” said Ariadne.

Hope rose in her heart. Maybe they were close to finding him.

“It looks like he…” Ariadne’s voice trailed away, and Persephone moved to her side to see she was looking at the lion’s paws, one of which had been stripped of its middle claw.

Persephone looked at Ariadne.

“Do you think…we need to do the same?”

Before she could respond, Galanthis answered with a meow.

“You can’t be serious,” Ariadne said.

Persephone knelt, examining the claws.

They did not look like bone so much as steel. She reached out and touched the tip of one, surprised when it cut her so easily.

“Ouch,” she hissed and drew her finger away quickly. “They’re sharp…like…knives.”

Yet she thought that these were even sharper.

“Here,” said Ariadne. She pulled off her leather gloves. “Use these as a barrier.”

Persephone took them and layered the gloves on one hand, hoping it would be enough to keep the claw from slicing through to her hand. She chose the middle one, and as she wrapped her gloved fingers around the sharp nail, she wondered why Hades had done this but also knew that he wouldn’t unless he had a good reason.

Still, there was a wrongness to it that made Persephone’s stomach turn. She grit her teeth hard as she felt around the top of the claw where it connected to bone and then used her knife to slice between them with her blade. When the claw was free, she took off the gloves and slipped the claw into the finger, storing it in the pocket of her jacket.

“Well, that was horrible,” she said as she stood, retrieving her spool of thread. “Let’s get out of here.”

They left the lion behind and wove through the endless darkness.

“How far are we from the center?” Persephone asked.

“I…don’t know,” said Ariadne. “I’ve lost track of…everything.”

Persephone had too.

“What do we do if he isn’t there?” she asked, though she hated to even entertain the idea.

“Don’t think that way,” said Ariadne. “He’ll be there, if anything because Theseus will take joy in watching you reunite and then tearing you apart.”

As hard as it was to hear, Persephone appreciated Ariadne’s honesty.

“What do you think will be waiting for us when we get there?”

“I have no idea,” Ariadne said. “But it will be terrible.”

Persephone took a breath, but she would face whatever waited for them so long as Hades was there. She would fight for him. She would reunite with him, and they would go home tonight…or tomorrow…or whenever the fuck they left this place.

Galanthis meowed, and Persephone looked to see the cat as she was swallowed by darkness.

It was different from the dark around them, deeper and colder, and there was a wrongness to it she couldn’t describe.

“Ariadne,” Persephone whispered. “Do you think…”

“We’ve made it,” Ariadne said.

An involuntary shiver racked Persephone’s body as they lingered at the edge of the darkness. She’d imagined this unfolding much differently in her head.

Mostly, she’d expected there to be light.

But if they were at the center of the labyrinth, then that meant Hades was near.

Persephone took a step forward and then another, but the dark remained. How was she supposed to find him here?

“Persephone!” Ariadne whispered her name in a hushed tone just as Galanthis gave a low growl and hissed.

Persephone froze as two red eyes flashed in the darkness.

“Ari,” Persephone said. “What is that?”

Just as she said the words, the lights switched on. Persephone flinched at the sudden brightness, dropping her spool of thread. As her vision adjusted, a strange growl drew her attention. When she looked up, she found the source of the red eyes—an abnormally large, pure white bull with enormous horns. It appeared to be covered in bronzed armor, and it was already pawing at the ground and snorting. Thick black smoke blew from its nostrils as if somehow, it had swallowed fire.

Persephone had seen something similar from the chimera she’d fought in the Underworld. Dread pooled in her stomach.

She was certain that thing could breathe fire.

The bull’s eyes were fixed on Galanthis, who stood before it, the hair down her back raised.

“Whatever you do, don’t give him your back,” said Ariadne.

“How are we supposed to run away then?” Persephone demanded.

“I don’t know,” Ariadne snapped. “Isn’t your cat a fucking monster?”

“She isn’t my cat!” Persephone said.

She looked behind her, wondering if they should return to the labyrinth, except that Hades was in front of them, not behind them.

The bull tossed its head and then lowered it, glaring at them with its bright red eyes. Then it charged, and Persephone watched as Galanthis transformed. She grew larger and sprouted black wings and horns, and then she launched herself at the bull.

Persephone and Ariadne didn’t linger. They ran, though she cringed at the sound of the bull’s strange roaring and Galanthis’s howling scream.

She made the mistake of looking over her shoulder to see Galanthis being tossed into the air, and when she landed, it was on the bull’s sharp horns.

“No!” Persephone screamed and came to a grinding halt.

“Come on, Persephone!” Ariadne grabbed Persephone’s arm and pulled her along.

Tears stung her eyes, and her anger burned through her. It was a familiar anger that usually summoned her power, but because they were trapped in this adamant prison, it served no purpose beyond fueling her retreat.

When the ground at their feet began to tremble, she knew the bull had turned its attention to them. Persephone pulled out her blade.

Ariadne turned to face the bull as it raced toward them.

“What are you doing?” Persephone demanded.

“Go!” Ariadne ordered as she drew her gun, aiming at the bull.

“What the fuck? You’ve had that the whole time?”

“Bullets wouldn’t work on the boar,” she said, shooting several into the bull’s face, but they bounced off, unable to penetrate its hide. “Fuck!”

That was usual of divine creatures—they almost always had one weakness but were otherwise invincible.

“Let’s go!” Persephone snapped, pulling on Ariadne’s arm.

They turned and ran again just as the creature bellowed and a searing, blustering wind slammed into them, causing Persephone to stumble. The wind was so hot, it immediately stole her breath, and she gasped for air.

As they ran, she looked at Ariadne.

“We have to split up,” she yelled over the roar of the bull.

There was one bull and two of them. It couldn’t charge them both at the same time.

Ariadne glared her dislike of the plan, but even she couldn’t argue. They nodded at each other and then changed course, running in opposite directions.

The bull didn’t hesitate.

It followed Persephone.

Fuck.

She pumped her arms and legs harder, though they burned as she raced away. She thought of what Hecate had told her about the labyrinth, that she was best equipped to handle this because she was not dependent on magic, except right now, she felt completely powerless against this creature, with or without magic.

She knew the bull was gaining ground because she could feel its hot breath all around her, and the roar of it drowned out any sound. Then she felt its head against her back, and suddenly she was flying through the air. She didn’t even have time to scream as she flailed and then landed in the dirt a few feet away. Before she could rise to her feet, the bull was already charging.

Persephone dove out of the way and scrambled to her feet. The bull made a wide circle as it came to face her again. This time, she noticed that the bronze armor over its body did not cover its belly.

She went to reach for her blade in the holster at her thigh but found it was missing. Panicked, she checked each of her pockets but only found Ariadne’s gloves with the claw.

Fuck. She must have dropped it.

The bull tossed its head and charged. Persephone tried to run, but she had waited too long. The armored creature barreled into her, knocking her to the ground, the impact forcing the wind right out of her lungs. As she struggled to breathe, the bull came after her with its horned head. Persephone rolled, trying to escape the brutal attack—and then suddenly, it was gone. When she looked up, she saw that Ariadne had managed to mount it, and she was hanging on to it by the horns.

The creature bucked, trying to free itself from Ariadne’s weight.

Persephone rose to her feet, holding her ribs as tightly as possible. Each breath hurt.

She cursed herself for losing her blade. Now, her only weapon was the lion’s claw. The challenge was accessing the bull’s belly without getting trampled to death.

Gods, she hoped this worked.

The bull was still trying desperately to get Ariadne off its back, bucking in a haphazard circle, but when she went flying, Persephone broke into a run, sliding under the bull and shoving the claw into its exposed stomach before rolling to the side as the creature roared and bolted. It made it a few feet, blood pouring from its wound, before it staggered and fell.

Persephone’s head swam, and breathing still hurt, but she got to her feet.

Ariadne approached, holding her arm to her chest.

“Is it broken?” Persephone asked.

Ariadne shook her head. “I don’t think so. It just hurts. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said. “Let’s find Hades.”

She stumbled forward, and Ariadne followed.

Crossing the center of the labyrinth was like crossing a vast ocean. There was no measure of progress because there was nothing in either direction except the sandy ground and the dark ceiling. Persephone could not decide which was worse—this or the dark corridors of the maze. What if they made it to the other side without seeing Hades at all?

But then she caught sight of something—a dark disruption in the distance—and suddenly she felt like her heart was beating in every part of her body.

“Hades,” she said, breathless.

And then without realizing it, she was running. Nothing had ever seemed farther away as she raced to him. The closer she got, the more details she could make out. She could see that he was suspended from the ceiling by his wrists, that he stood on a round platform like some kind of sacrifice. His chin rested against his chest; his tangled hair curtained his face.

She didn’t think twice as she scaled the platform upon which he hung. She threw her arms around him, and there was such peace in her body as she clung to him.

“Hades,” she whispered.

She drew away and touched his face.

He stirred and opened his eyes—dark, almost black.

“Hades,” she said.

He frowned and lowered his brows like he was confused to see her here. “Persephone?”

“It’s me,” she said. “I’m here.”

He swallowed, studying her. “This is a dream,” he said.

“It is not a dream,” she said, and she rose onto the tips of her toes and kissed him. When she pulled away, he seemed more awake.

“Persephone,” he said, and he jerked his arms as if his instinct was to take her into his arms. The chains clanked, reminding them both that he was still a prisoner of the labyrinth. “How?”

“I came to rescue you,” she said, stroking his face. In the time they’d been apart, his beard had grown fuller. It felt wiry beneath her hands, but she didn’t care.

Hades closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath.

“I have dreamed of this,” he said before gazing down at her again.

She smiled up at him, her eyes falling to his lips, and while she’d have liked to kiss him, she knew they had to get out of here. She drew back, her fingers hanging in the loops of the net draped around him. She couldn’t pull it off with his hands restrained.

“It has to be cut,” he said. “So far, the only success I’ve had is with a lion’s claw.”

“A lion’s claw,” Persephone repeated, fumbling for the one she’d used to kill the bull. She pulled the bloodied thing out of her pocket, and Hades offered a breathless laugh.

“You are…perfect,” he said as she sliced through the impenetrable thread Ariadne had spun. She probably cut it more than she needed, but there was a part of her that felt such anger toward the thing that had hurt so many people, including her husband.

When she was finished, she met Hades’s gaze.

“I don’t know how to help you out of the chains,” she said, but he was already working on that.

He dug in his heels and pulled, the manacles cutting into his already raw wrists. Hades didn’t seem to notice, even as his arms shook and his muscles bulged.

Finally, she heard a satisfying snap, and his hands were free and then she was in his arms and nothing else mattered.

He held her so tight, her ribs ached, but she didn’t care. She clung to him, her arms locked around him, and with her head buried in the crook of his neck, she sobbed.

“Oh, darling,” he said, his voice a quiet rumble, twisting his fingers into her hair. “How I hoped I would see you again.”

Persephone met Hades’s gaze. She wanted to say something similar—that she had dreamed of him, that every day without him had been misery, but those words were left on the tip of her tongue as Ariadne joined them on the platform.

“You might want to move a little faster,” she said, out of breath. “We’ve got visitors.”

Persephone drew away from Hades, and they turned to see five Minotaurs approaching. They were large and had bulging muscles. Some were covered in fur; others had bare chests. Some had the head of a bull while others had more human features, but their one common trait was that their eyes were trained on their prey.

“What the fuck did Theseus do?” Hades said.

“He’s been breeding them,” said Ariadne.

They both looked at her.

Breeding?

Persephone’s stomach turned. She didn’t need details to understand what she meant, but what she wanted to know was where had the women come from, and where were they now?

That was if they’d survived the birth of such creatures.

“I asked you to help me,” Hades said. “And you refused knowing that this is what he was doing?”

Ariadne glared, her features hardened. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“That only matters if we survive,” Hades said.

“Now is not the time,” Persephone said as she looked from one to the other.

They had bigger problems—literally.

“How many bullets do you have left?” Persephone asked.

Ariadne drew her gun and checked. “Two,” she said.

“Can you make those shots?”

Ariadne almost looked offended. “Yes.”

“So we’re responsible for three,” said Persephone.

Ariadne got into position to shoot.

“Do not shoot until I say,” Hades said. “Once you do it, they will rage.”

“Got it,” she said.

Hades looked at Persephone. “They have no great power, save for their strength,” said Hades. “It makes them slow, so be fast.”

She nodded, and they descended the platform.

It was a different experience being on the ground with the Minotaurs. Now she could gauge their true size and feel their approach, each of their footfalls vibrating the ground.

Hades and Persephone exchanged a look, one that promised to see each other at the end of this, and broke apart.

Persephone kept her eyes on the Minotaurs as they fanned out, two following her and two following Hades. One continued toward Ariadne. Persephone was disturbed by their very human movements—the way their eyes flashed with malice as they tracked her. One slammed its weapon—a two-headed ax—against its large palm. The other showed its teeth in a warped, wicked grin.

Though Persephone tried to keep her distance, the creatures moved fast, and as they neared, they raised their weapons to strike.

“Hades,” Persephone said, her voice ringing with alarm.

“Now, Ari,” Hades ordered, and two shots rang out in quick succession.

The sound made Persephone’s ears ring, and everything following the blast seemed to happen in slow motion. The bullet struck the smiling Minotaur in the head. Its body jerked unnaturally, head whipping back from the impact as a spray of blood spattered the ground, and when the other Minotaur turned to see its companion fall dead, it roared with such rage it shook her to the core. In a matter of seconds, the creature lifted its ax and slammed it down toward Persephone.

She dodged the first blow, the blade sinking so deep into the earth, the ground cracked open at her feet, but the Minotaur was quick to pull it back and swing it at her again. Persephone could feel the power behind the weapon as it cut over her head, and she knew she didn’t have a chance against this creature so long as it was armed.

That was when she spotted the dead Minotaur’s weapon—a spiked club that would have been easy for a Minotaur to wield single-handedly but was far too heavy for Persephone to lift. Still, that did not mean it wasn’t useful.

She just had to get to it.

Another violent cry tore from the Minotaur’s throat, and Persephone bolted, screaming when she felt the ax land within a breath of her foot. Her heart pounded in her chest, but she kept going, dodging the monster’s assault as she struggled to withdraw the lion’s knifelike claw from her pocket. When she made it to the club, she had no time to think.

The monster swung at Persephone again, but this time, the ax lodged in the wooden club. Persephone jumped, using the leverage of the handle, and launched herself at the Minotaur. Brandishing the claw, she shoved it into the creature’s neck.

Blood immediately coated her hand. It was unlike anything she’d ever seen, a strange reddish black, and it felt so thick. The Minotaur gave a strangled cry and fell backward. Persephone fell with it and landed on the ground beside it, but it did not move again.

Persephone scrambled to her feet and found Hades still fighting one of the two Minotaurs, his arms wrapped around its neck, squeezing. The creature had gone from clawing at his arm to hanging limp, finally collapsing to the ground. Ariadne was busy kicking her Minotaur in the face over and over again. She had a giant slash across her chest.

When she was finished, she was panting.

Persephone raised a brow. “You good?” she asked.

Ariadne nodded and shoved her hair out of her face. “I’m good.”

“Are you hurt?” Hades asked.

Persephone shook her head as he approached and pressed his lips to her forehead. She closed her eyes at the feel of him, fingers twisting into the ruins of his shirt. She took a deep breath, inhaling him. He still smelled like his magic, dark and dangerous and right. This was her Hades.

“Oh my gods,” said Ariadne.

“What?” Persephone said, pulse quickening as she whirled to see what she was staring at. She’d feared another monster.

“Galanthis,” said Hades, a note of surprise in his voice.

“You know Galanthis?” Persephone asked.

“Yes,” he said, and then he frowned, starting toward her. “She is hurt.”

Hecate’s creature limped along, blood spotting the ground as she walked. She had not reverted to her cat form, still sporting her large wings and horned head.

“She was injured by the bull,” Persephone said, following.

“What…is she?” Ariadne asked.

“She is a eudaimon,” said Hades. “A guiding spirit. They used to only be deified heroes, but then Hecate felt that pets would make better guardians. She was, of course, correct.”

“Oh, Galanthis,” Persephone said when they reached her, threading her fingers through her soft fur. The creature purred despite her obvious pain. “I have never had a better protector.”

Hades raised a brow.

She rolled her eyes.

“We have to go,” Ariadne said.

Galanthis made a sound that was something between a meow and a growl, then she knelt.

“Galanthis?” Persephone asked.

“She is offering to let us ride,” said Hades.

“But…she is hurt!” Persephone argued and then looked at Galanthis. “You are hurt!”

Galanthis meowed, and Hades placed his hand on the small of Persephone’s back.

“Come,” he said, guiding her to the side of the eudaimon. Ariadne was already climbing up when a terrible screech filled the air.

Persephone turned to see what looked like a flock of giant metal birds soaring through the air straight for them.

“Oh fuck,” Hades said. “Not again.”

“What do you mean not again?” Persephone demanded.

“Up!” Hades commanded.

“I’m trying!” she snapped, gripping tufts of Galanthis’s fur, but she was already moving, jarring them as she leapt across the center of the labyrinth toward the mouth of the maze at a speed Persephone hadn’t known she was capable of.

“Grab my hand!” Ariadne shouted. Persephone climbed a little farther and then reached for the detective, but her finger slipped, and she fell. She started to scream but was caught by Hades, who was not far behind.

“I’ve got you,” he said, his voice resonating deep inside her chest, even as her heart raced.

A series of shrill cries chilled her to her core. The birds were gaining on them, the sound of their wings beating, metal against metal, growing louder and louder. It set Persephone’s teeth on edge and was just as terrible as their pursuit.

“What are they?” Persephone yelled over the grind of their wings.

“The Stymphalian birds,” said Hades. “Watch out!”

Suddenly he shoved her into Galanthis’s side as a strange feather-type spear whizzed past them, followed by another. Galanthis dodged them, but each movement rocked Persephone, challenging the hold she had on her fur.

Finally, she was able to climb again, and when she looked up, she found that Ariadne was facing the opposite direction, gun in hand, but she was holding it wrong—and then she threw it, aiming for the bird closest to them. When it hit the bird, it seemed stunned, and then it crashed to the ground, sending up a plume of dust.

When she was within reach, Ariadne offered her hand, and this time, Persephone did not slip as she made the final ascent to Galanthis’s back. Hades followed, and once they were astride, they were consumed by the darkness of the labyrinth.

Ariadne’s thread glistened, a thin rivulet Galanthis followed while the Stymphalian birds shrieked overhead, raining deadly metal on them. Galanthis did her best to evade the feathers, though at times, the arrows passed so close, she could barely react and instead slammed into the labyrinth walls, which seemed to shatter beneath her strength.

“Down!” Hades ordered as his body folded over Persephone’s as he covered her head. A spray of rocks rained down on them. It was followed by the whir of several more arrows and the snap of bronzed beaks as the birds gained on them.

Galanthis covered far more ground than Ariadne and Persephone ever could on their own. Soon they were passing the corpse of the lion and the boar she’d slain, and Persephone felt her heart rise into her throat.

The only thing left was the thicket of thorns, and they would be free. Then Galanthis roared and stumbled, and they were thrown from her back.

Persephone hit the ground and rolled. When she came to a stop, she looked back to see Galanthis trying to rise, but she collapsed. Their eyes held, and then her head arched unnaturally as she was pierced through by another spear-like arrow.

“Galanthis!” Persephone screamed. She got to her feet and started to run to her, but a bronze beak closed around the eudaimon.

“Don’t!” Hades jerked her around in time to see Ariadne’s horrified expression. “We have to go,” he said, ushering her forward.

A sob burst from Persephone’s mouth. She knew he was right, but all she could think was that they’d all been so close.

Together, they plunged into the thicket of ruined thorns as spears rained down on them, each one hitting in an explosion of dirt and rock. They did not stop running, even when they made it to the cover of the stairs. Persephone took two at a time, her chest aching. All the while, she reached desperately for her magic. She knew they were surfacing from the adamant prison when she could feel her power on the fringes of her awareness.

“Take us home!” she screamed. Her voice grated against her throat, but instead of teleporting, the ground began to shake violently, filling the corridor with a rumble that grew into a loud roar. It made Persephone’s ears ring, and she swayed, unable to stay on her feet with the ground rolling beneath them. Hades caught her around the middle and pulled her back against his chest.

“What is happening?” she asked.

“Theseus,” Hades said just as a deafening crack sounded and the steps split. Overhead, pieces of stone started to fall away. The roof was about to collapse.

“Fuck. Go!”

Hades shoved Persephone, and she stumbled forward as the ceiling gave way. She whirled as the stones came crashing down, finding that a chasm had opened between her and Hades and Ariadne.

“Hades!” she screamed as he caught a large piece of falling rock and tossed it aside. Despite his efforts, Persephone knew they would soon be buried beneath the rubble.

His eyes met hers in the near dark, burning like embers.

“Go!” he commanded.

She glared at him, horrified and angry, but she knew at least one of them had to make it out. One of them needed magic to rescue the other.

“Just hold on…for me,” she said.

Hades offered her a small smile before she turned and hurried up the remaining stairs even as they shook beneath her feet and the ceiling continued to crumble around her. She stumbled and fell, her shins hitting the stone hard. The pain was biting but she kept going, bruising her fingers and breaking her nails as she clawed her way higher and higher, knowing that she had no choice, until finally, when she reached for her magic, it was there.

She could have cried.

She teleported and landed on her hands and knees at the top of the labyrinth stairs where she and Ariadne had started their descent as the opening collapsed.

She rose to her feet on shaky legs. She knew she was bleeding from her fall, but she ignored the pain and summoned her magic, intending to lift the rocks, when a sudden heaviness flooded the air. It was electric and raised the hair on her arms.

She turned to see a demigod with glowing eyes and a stream of white-blue lightning surging toward her, the heat of which singed her skin even as she teleported, appearing behind her attacker, but he was already a step ahead and had turned in her direction, casting another bolt. It hit her hard in the chest, throwing her back while boiling her blood.

She landed amid the ruins of Knossos and only had time to register the pain before the demigod appeared in the sky above her and struck her again, this time with a continuous stream of lightning. Her body convulsed beneath the heat, and her senses filled with the smell of burning flesh and the sharp sizzle of electricity.

Beneath the onslaught of his magic, all she could think of was everything she had been through. But it was not just her. It was her friends too. Those she had loved most in the world. Sybil and Harmonia had been tortured, and Zofie had been murdered. The prisoners of the Underworld had torn her realm apart and retraumatized the souls. Zeus had stripped Hermes, Apollo, and Aphrodite of their powers and put a bounty on her head.

And she bore the guilt of murdering her mother.

Through all of it, she had looked forward to one thing, and that was Hades.

He was her light in the window—the glow of hope in the distance despite the deep darkness around her—and just when she had felt his familiar warmth and the safety of his embrace, he had been taken from her again.

Her fury bloomed. She could feel it in her chest, a darkness that unfurled into thorns. She screamed as they burst from her body, cutting through the white-blue light. The lightning ceased as the demigod attempted to flee, but Persephone’s thorns twined around him and through him. As his blood rained down, she yanked him from the sky, and he plummeted to the earth, hitting it in an explosion of dirt and rock.

For a brief moment, Persephone lay there, expecting to feel the pain that inevitably followed her explosive magic, but she felt nothing save the hard ground at her back. It was then she realized the thorns were gone and she had healed.

She sat up and then rose to her feet, approaching the crater, finding the demigod lying at the bottom. As she looked, he opened his eyes, no longer lit with white light. She extended her hand, and vines grew around him. He struggled as they tightened, and when he began to scream, another clapped down over his mouth.

Persephone turned toward the collapsed entrance of the labyrinth and called to the stones. They were easy to find because they were made from adamant but harder to move because their energy was heavy. It made her body shake from the inside out, but she managed to shift them over the pit, locking eyes with the demigod as she dropped them on him all at once.

She caught movement from the corner of her eye and burst into tears when she saw Hades emerge from the ruins of the stairs. Ariadne was not far behind.

“Hades!”

She ran to him and threw herself into his arms, once more surrounded by his warmth and his scent. She buried her face in the crook of his neck.

“Let’s go,” she said, and Hades’s magic erupted.

They were finally free, and Hades was home.