Chapter Forty-Seven
Hades unveiled the truth to me today. That I am not, as I have always believed, a mere mortal named Tabitha. I am Hecate, the goddess of witchcraft.
Naturally, I dismissed his words at first, scoffing at the very notion. But then he led me down into the Underworld… and something within me began to stir. Memories, like half-forgotten dreams, began to awaken, fragments of a past long buried. The truth. My origins. Everything.
And then he told me what I had done, the very act that ignited it all.
Tabitha Wysteria
No matter how many endless hours Mal bled into Allegra’s training, her witch powers remained dormant, elusive as smoke between her fingers.
Impatience gnawed at her, a storm without mercy building deep within her chest, coiling tighter and tighter like a silent tornado yearning for its violent release.
How could she save her people, save the kingdoms, the world itself if she could not summon the magic that was hers by right?
Both her godhood and her witchcraft were meant to entwine, two halves of the same destiny, yet one lay dormant, a hollow echo.
With every passing day, worry festered until it hollowed her out, until words themselves abandoned her lips entirely.
She sat by the window, a lone sentinel, staring out at a world she feared was crumbling because of her failure.
How many lives slipped quietly into death while she sat idle?
For as long as she could remember, she had felt less.
A shadow beside brighter, surer siblings who had always known their place in the great weave of fate, whether they wanted it or not. Mal had never known hers.
But then, the Seer’s prophecy had come like fire in the dark, her name whispered as the one who could end the curse, who could tip the balance. For the first time, her existence had meant something, had burnt with purpose.
Now that fragile spark was dying.
Her hands curled into trembling fists, nails biting into her palms. She tipped her head back against the smooth marble column, closing her eyes to hold back the weight of despair.
She didn’t move when Thanatos appeared, his presence an eclipse at her side as he leaned against the opposite column.
His dark, fathomless eyes fastened onto her, stripping her bare, not of clothes but of armour, of pretence, until she was laid open before him, raw and defenceless, seen only by him, and him alone.
They sat together in silence. Mal with her gaze fixed on the dark sprawl beyond the windows, Thanatos with his eyes on her, as he always did.
This had become their strange ritual: him appearing wordless at her side, a silent sentinel to her fury and despair.
At first, she had cursed him, spat her anger like venom, ordering him to leave.
Later, she had simply ignored him, letting the quiet stretch unbroken between them.
And now… now she almost welcomed his presence, as one might welcome the stillness before a storm.
Her eyes drifted to him, lingering on the way his black clothes clung to his lean frame, his shirt falling open just enough to reveal the suggestion of muscle beneath.
That was when she noticed it for the first time.
A necklace, a ring hanging from it, faintly glinting in the low light. Without thought, she reached for it.
His hand shot up, fingers curling around her wrist. Gentle, but firm.
‘I’d never noticed that before,’ she whispered.
His lips curved slightly, humourless. ‘I usually hide it better.’
Mal’s brow furrowed. ‘Why wear a ring on a chain?’
‘Why not?’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘That’s a wyverian wedding band.’ She recognised the deep black forged in wyvern fire, the faint threads of blue that shimmered along the band when the light touched it just so.
‘Jealous?’ he asked, voice soft as silk.
Mal scoffed, turning back to the view, lips curling in something wicked. ‘Did you steal it from some poor mortal? Or better yet, charm one into falling in love with you first?’ The smirk on her face widened with the bite of the jest.
But he said nothing.
Silence pooled between them, heavy and unnatural, pulling her attention back to him. His expression was unreadable, save for the trace of sadness there, so subtle yet so utterly out of place on him.
And for reasons she could not name, Mal’s chest tightened.
‘It belonged to my wife,’ Thanatos said, his voice low and threaded with an old sorrow.
Mal froze. ‘You have a wife?’
‘Had.’
Her brows knitted. ‘What happened to her?’
He looked away, the depths of his dark eyes shadowed by a grief so profound it made Mal’s chest tighten in discomfort.
‘She died.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered.
Thanatos exhaled, slow and measured, as though releasing a memory too heavy to hold. ‘It was a long time ago.’
Mal shrugged softly. ‘That doesn’t mean it hurts any less.’
A faint, wistful smile tugged at his lips. ‘I suppose you’re right.’
‘What was she like?’
His eyes brightened, warmed by some long-buried light. ‘Scary,’ he said, the corner of his mouth curving upwards, almost fond. ‘And stubborn. She never listened to me. You remind me of her a little.’
Mal felt her own lips twitch into a reluctant smile. ‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’
‘You should.’
She turned back towards the endless sprawl of forest, unwilling to meet the weight of that smile.
It tugged at her heart in ways she did not care to name.
‘I still can’t awaken my witch powers,’ she admitted, frustration sharp in her tone.
‘I can’t keep wasting time. I need you to help me, to teach me to master my godlike abilities in case… ’
‘In case what?’ he asked, his voice softer now, careful.
‘In case I can’t become the God-Killer.’
Thanatos nodded but turned his attention away, his expression pensive, as though weighing words he did not want to speak. When they came, they were hushed, hesitant. ‘Why do you want to be the God-Killer?’
‘To stop the gods.’
He sighed, the sound heavy as stone. ‘They say that to bear the mantle of the God-Killer… you must surrender a part of yourself. That the power required is so immense it rots the mind, warps the soul. That you will no longer be who you were.’
Mal frowned and glanced down at her hands, trembling faintly, traitors to a fear she had never known until recently. ‘Is that why you’re so reluctant to teach me? Because you fear I’ll become… something else?’
Thanatos gave a slow, silent nod.
Mal bit her lip, feeling as though her world were splintering, each piece falling into a dark abyss she could not reach. She swallowed her fears, burying them deep in that hidden place within her where all her secrets slept, silent and suffocating.
‘It frightens me too,’ she confessed, her voice soft, almost breaking.
‘What I might become… what I might lose of myself. But what terrifies me more is something happening to those I love. If I hold the power to save them… why wouldn’t I use it?
Wouldn’t you?’ She turned to him, her eyes luminous with desperate hope, as though he might finally understand, finally help her.
‘If you had the strength to protect those you love, wouldn’t you do anything to make it happen?
Even if it meant destroying yourself in the process? ’
‘Mm,’ Thanatos murmured, eyes dark and thoughtful. ‘But those I love… would they truly want to lose me?’
Her fragile hope cracked, splinter by splinter, as she turned back to the view beyond the window.
He would not help her, she thought bitterly.
She would return to her loved ones powerless, relying on nothing but steel and stubbornness, and she would fight for them anyway, because turning her back on them was never an option.
When Thanatos’ hand reached for hers, she almost jumped. The touch was so achingly gentle that she froze. Thanatos was rarely gentle; he was sharp edges and shadows. Yet with her, lately, he seemed to know softness.
‘I’ll help you,’ he whispered.
Mal’s eyes widened, narrowing soon after with suspicion. ‘Why? You’ve been reluctant from the beginning. Why now? Why so willing?’
He gave her a small, almost tender smile as he withdrew his hand.
‘Because I’d do anything to chase the sadness from your eyes, Melinoe,’ he said, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon rather than on her. ‘I want to see you smile… even if it’s only once.’
‘And you’re not afraid? Afraid of what I might become if I’m corrupted?’
‘I am,’ he admitted, finally meeting her eyes.
Mal’s heart constricted painfully at the sight of him, so full of emotion, longing, and an unspoken fear that seemed to wound him as he said, ‘But if I don’t help you, and you go back without your powers…
I fear that more. I fear something happening to you. ’
‘Why do you care so much?’ she asked, the words quiet, almost trembling.
Thanatos looked away, lips curling into a scoff that did nothing to hide the tension in his jaw. ‘Silly question, woman.’
But as Mal turned from him, she saw his hand lift instinctively to the ring that hung from the chain at his neck, fingers curling tightly around it as though it were the only anchor holding him together.
…
‘When will you teach me to read your thoughts?’ Mal asked, hours later, as she followed him into the barren expanse beyond the castle.
The land stretched wide and colourless, a graveyard of dead grass and ashen soil.
No wind stirred. No life dared breathe there, only a hollow stillness that clung to the air.
Thanatos chuckled, the sound low and edged with mischief. ‘Eager to see what I keep locked away, are you?’ He tapped his temple lightly. ‘Careful, Melinoe. You might find things you’d rather not see.’
Mal arched a brow. ‘Oh really? Like what?’
‘Like you… naked on my bed.’
She froze mid-step, narrowing her eyes. ‘I should never have asked.’
His laughter rippled across the stillness, dark and wickedly amused. ‘No,’ he agreed, lips curling into a grin, ‘you probably shouldn’t have.’