Chapter Thirty-Two
Hades is just one more pawn in this game.
He is not the one that will destroy everything.
She will.
Tabitha Wysteria
Mal forced herself to ignore the vice tightening around her heart as the veil of molten rock folded aside and delivered them once more into the bowels of the Underworld. Her task was done, yet Makaria remained its price.
They stepped straight onto the basalt floor of Tartarus. Zagreus waited there, a faint smile ghosting over his lips, the great white wolf at his heel. The smile evaporated when his mismatched gaze swept past Mal and found no trace of his sister.
His attention slid to Thanatos; an unspoken exchange crackled between the two immortals.
‘I was compelled to strike a bargain,’ Mal said, shoulders stiff beneath an invisible weight. Zagreus’ eyes flicked to the witch she had brought with her, then back again. No fury, merely a low, sardonic snort.
‘Curious how history loops back on itself,’ he muttered, voice threaded with dark amusement. ‘Isn’t that so, Thanatos?’
Thanatos stepped forward, jaw iron-tight. ‘Hold your tongue, Zagreus. We do not speak of that.’
‘Perhaps we should.’
‘Perhaps,’ Thanatos said, his words edged with warning, ‘you should learn when silence is wiser.’
Zagreus’ grin sharpened, but whatever revelation he nursed remained unspoken. Instead he bowed, almost mockingly, and moved aside. Thanatos lingered a heartbeat longer, his presence alone a menace, until Zagreus lowered his head in wry submission.
Only then did Thanatos clasp Mal’s hand and draw her away from the prison’s yawning shadows. They traversed the gloom in silence, the witch and the giant white wolf following at their heels until the sombre towers of the wyverian keep rose before them once more.
‘You’ll get her back,’ Thanatos said with a languid shrug, his pale, elegant fingers disappearing into the depths of his trouser pockets, as though the world held little weight for him.
‘You seem to have a surprising amount of faith in me,’ Mal replied, her voice low, laced with scepticism.
‘Why wouldn’t I?’ he asked simply.
‘You don’t really know me.’ She watched him closely.
The faint clench of his jaw, the near-imperceptible shift in his shoulders.
Subtle tells, fleeting and carefully smothered, but there all the same.
She was tempted to dig deeper, to unearth whatever truth he was so determined to bury.
But she knew he wouldn’t offer it. Not yet.
So, she turned away, directing her attention instead towards the witch.
‘I’ll allow you the evening to rest,’ she said.
‘But come dawn, you’ll begin training me in the art of witchcraft.
’ She did not wait for Allegra’s reply. With her head high and her steps certain, Mal strode down the corridor of the wyverian castle, the walls echoing her resolve.
Whatever the witch did in the meantime was not her concern. Not now.
Thanatos fell into step beside her, his presence as silent and steady as ever.
‘What do you want?’ she asked without looking at him.
‘No words of gratitude for escorting you through the depths of Hell and back?’ he drawled, a wicked curve catching his lips.
She stopped, turning sharply to face him.
And there he was, this strange, impossible man. The one who wore Ash’s face like a borrowed memory. The one who bore the weight of death itself behind those knowing eyes. She studied him for a moment, watching as despite his sneer, his features softened, as they always did when he looked at her.
‘You’ll teach me to harness my power,’ she said instead, though it wasn’t what she truly wanted to say. She moved to leave, but his hand closed gently around her wrist, halting her.
‘Melinoe…’ Her name left his lips like a prayer half-forgotten, half-feared.
‘What is it?’ she asked, her voice soft, yet laced with edge, her violet stare dropping to where their skin met, where his grip still lingered, hesitant and cold.
‘I can’t…’
‘Can’t what?’
‘Teach you.’
Her brows arched, the silence between them swelling. ‘Hades gave you orders, did he not?’
Thanatos’ focus wandered to the far end of the corridor, to the tall, looming doors of the main hall. Beyond them, Hades surely waited, patient, calculating.
‘He did.’
‘And you always obey Hades.’ Her tone sharpened, a blade cloaked in silk. ‘Don’t you?’
He swallowed, barely, but she noticed. He nodded once.
‘Well then.’ She stepped closer, reaching for his other hand, her grip tightening around it like a shackle. ‘What is it you’re hiding, Thanatos? What truth lies buried behind those eyes this time?’
He turned his face from her, jaw clenched, unwilling to speak.
A coward’s silence.
Mal exhaled, the sound thick with frustration. She dropped his hands and stepped away, cold resolve rising to shroud her disappointment.
‘If you won’t tell me, so be it,’ she said, her voice turning to ice. ‘Keep your rot-infested secrets. But do as you're told.’
And with the sweep of her dress and a heart that burnt beneath her breastbone, she turned and walked away, not looking back.
…
‘Back so soon?’ Hades purred, lounging with feline ease as he swung his boots onto the obsidian table. A grin unfurled across his face, revealing sharp teeth that glinted like ivory daggers in the gloom.
Mal sank into one of the stone-carved chairs across from him, the weight of exhaustion cloaked in poise.
She reached for a goblet of deep crimson wine and brought it to her lips, sipping slowly, deliberately, as her attention never left her father.
Beside her, the great white wolf settled, its thick fur brushing her arm, a silent vow that she was no longer alone amidst these shadows.
‘I have the witch,’ she said calmly, glancing over her shoulder towards the doors through which Thanatos had not followed. Now, only silence remained.
Hades cast his eyes to his nails, something gleaming with interest in the pit of his stare. ‘And what did you surrender in return?’
‘Who says I surrendered anything?’
His grin widened like a wound. ‘Because that’s Hell, darling. Nothing there is given freely. The kings of Hell never release a soul without payment. There is always a price to be paid.’ He leaned back, his tongue tracing his teeth. ‘So, what did you offer?’
‘Your daughter,’ Mal said, her purple eyes locked onto his, daring him to flinch. She didn’t know what reaction she expected. Anguish, perhaps. Amusement, more likely. From Hades, neither sorrow nor joy would have surprised her.
He glanced into his wine, swirling it idly, then nodded. ‘I’m surprised you were willing.’
‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ she replied, her voice like frost. ‘I barely know her.’
‘Mm.’ A thoughtful sound. ‘But you always did have a soft heart, Melinoe.’
Her brow creased at that. But before she could ask, he cleared his throat, raised his goblet once more, that wolfish smile returning. ‘To the beginning of endings.’
Mal raised hers in reply, her stare sharp as honed steel. Whatever game he played, he knew not her true hand. Not yet.
‘To ending it all,’ she whispered, her voice a thread of defiance, as her eyes caught the flash of surprise in his.