Chapter Fifty-Two
There are gods in the Underworld whose power rivals even that of Hades, deities so ancient, so fearsome, that the very earth seems to quiver at the whisper of their name.
One such bloodline exists, a lineage wrapped in shadow and dread, and from it came Thanatos.
He is not alone. His sister, Eris, equally formidable, belongs to the same lineage.
Together, they have long been the source of unease across the divine realms, spoken of in tones laced with reverence and fear.
Perhaps that is why, when the mantle of Death was to be bestowed, Hades chose Thanatos.
Not for trust.
But to keep the danger close.
To keep watch over the storm.
Tabitha Wysteria
‘Find the core,’ Allegra said, her voice soft yet commanding as they sat cross-legged beneath the open sky, the castle’s towering spires behind them. ‘Your magic lies within, veiled and waiting. You must seek it out, coax it free.’
Mal exhaled slowly, the breath trembling as she forced herself inward, searching desperately for that elusive spark of power that continued to slip through her grasp.
Day by day, she trained with Thanatos to master her godlike abilities, but deep in her bones she knew none of it would matter if she could not awaken the witchcraft buried in her soul.
If she failed here, everything else would unravel.
‘You’re overthinking again,’ Allegra chided gently, her eyes narrowing with quiet amusement.
‘I know,’ Mal admitted with a weary sigh. ‘I can’t seem to stop.’
Allegra inclined her head, her amethyst gaze softening with understanding. ‘Then perhaps you should rest awhile. Magic comes when it wills, not when it is dragged screaming into the light. In the mortal realms, witchlings are given all the time they need to bloom. Power cannot be forced.’
‘I don’t have time.’ The words came out tight, heavy with urgency.
Allegra nodded, though her focus drifted past Mal’s shoulder, her eyes brightening at whatever she saw there. Mal didn’t need to turn to know who approached; the way her chest constricted with sharp, unwanted jealousy was answer enough.
Thanatos’ hand came to rest on her shoulder, warm and grounding. She glanced up to find his face carved with worry.
‘What is it?’ she asked, already rising to her feet.
‘We need to speak,’ he whispered, low and urgent. Before she could protest, he took her hand in his and drew her towards the looming castle. He paused only long enough to incline his head respectfully to Allegra. ‘We will speak again later,’ he promised, before leading Mal away.
Mal’s eyes narrowed, irritation flashing like steel unsheathed. Yet the instant she caught Thanatos watching her, reading every subtle twist of her expression, she forced her features to soften and followed him wordlessly into the castle’s shadows.
They traversed the obsidian corridors, their silence echoing through halls hewn from volcanic rock, the air cool and heavy with the scent of ash and ancient magic.
Up the blackened stone staircase they went, the glow of blue wyverian light casting ghostly ribbons across their faces, before weaving through another corridor draped in quiet.
Thanatos paused at her chamber door, opened it, and with an incline of his head bade her enter. Mal stepped inside and sank onto the edge of her bed, her eyes never leaving him as he paced with a restless energy uncharacteristic of death itself.
‘What is it?’ she pressed, her voice a low demand.
To her surprise, he closed the distance and knelt before her, lowering himself to meet her gaze. His hand settled lightly upon her knee. A simple touch, yet it burnt like an unspoken confession. She nearly pushed him away, but those fathomless dark eyes held her still, arrested her breath.
‘Something is stirring above,’ he said.
Her brow furrowed. ‘What does that mean?’
‘Death.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘There is death unfolding.’
‘Death always unfolds, Thanatos.’
He inclined his head slightly. ‘Yes, it does. But this… this is an ocean of it.’
Mal’s eyes widened, a cold ripple threading through her veins. She shifted to rise, but his fingers tightened around her knee, anchoring her in place.
‘Melinoe… do not rush.’
‘I must go.’
‘You are not ready. You could be harmed.’
‘I don’t care.’
A sigh fell from him, deep and weighted. ‘You may not care. But I do.’
She brushed his hand aside and stood, only for him to rise as well, placing himself firmly between her and the door.
‘Did you tell me this only to wound me?’ she demanded, voice sharpened with anger. ‘Is that it? To dangle mortal suffering before me and then forbid me to act?’
‘No. It’s because…’
‘Because what, Thanatos?’
His stare, dark as the space between stars, pinned her to the spot. Slowly, almost tenderly, he raised his hand and let his knuckles ghost along her jawline. A delicate, reverent touch that stole the breath from her lungs and left her soul trembling.
Then it was gone. He withdrew, mask snapping back into place, the mischief curling at the edge of his lips once more as if the moment had never existed.
‘I have come to help you,’ he said, his voice smooth as velvet and yet edged with something she could not quite name.
‘Have you?’ she asked, head tilting ever so slightly, unsure whether his words were truth or another of his games.
‘Your god-powers grow stronger with each passing day,’ he said, ‘but they are not enough. Not yet, not to summon an army.’
‘An army?’
Thanatos inclined his head, the faint curve of a smile gracing his lips. That smile stole the breath from Mal’s chest. Such a rare thing to see, and all the more dangerous for its beauty.
‘Why would I need an army?’ she asked, her voice a whisper laced with unease. ‘What is happening up there?’
‘Get changed. Be ready.’
Mal’s eyes followed him as he turned, retreating a step towards the door but not leaving. ‘Are you not going to leave while I change?’
A soft chuckle escaped him. ‘Do you truly mistrust my word that I will not peep?’
‘Yes.’
He shrugged, casual and infuriating. ‘How unfortunate for you, then.’
‘Leave.’
Thanatos raised his right hand and dragged his fingers downward, mimicking the fall of sand in an hourglass. ‘We are running out of time, Melinoe…’
Grinding her teeth, Mal strode to her wardrobe, yanking free a simple grey riding dress. She let her black gown fall, pooling in dark ripples at her feet. When she glanced over her shoulder, she froze.
Thanatos had turned, watching her. Those obsidian eyes roamed her figure, devouring every detail as though he had uncovered some long-lost treasure of the world itself.
Mal swallowed hard, her skin prickling beneath that unwavering stare until at last his eyes met hers.
‘You are truly beautiful,’ he whispered, reverent as a prayer.
‘You promised not to look,’ she muttered, cheeks warming.
‘I never promised any such thing.’ His chuckle was low, dangerous, and he turned his back once more, leaving her to the quickened beat of her heart.
Mal slipped quickly into the grey dress, tugging on her black boots before pausing by the glassless window, staring into the open, uncertain world beyond. What awaited her out there, hope or ruin?
Thanatos materialised at her side like a shadow summoned by thought, his fingers brushing lightly along her arm.
His touch was uncharacteristically gentle, almost reverent.
She had grown accustomed to it over time, though every moment she allowed him close still felt like treachery.
Against herself, against what she had once sworn.
He raised his hands, conjuring black smoke that coiled and curled like living silk. From within it, a wyverian sword emerged, a perfect echo of the blade she had always favoured. Short and elegant, its blackened metal shimmered with faint blue undertones, like starlight trapped within obsidian.
Mal’s lips curved into a rare, unbidden smile as he placed it in her palms. Gods, how she had missed this.
The weight, the promise, the familiar surge of power that came with steel meeting skin.
And yet, perhaps what she missed most were those long-forgotten training days with Kai, her brother’s laughter echoing as blades met.
She had avoided thoughts of her family, fearing the spiral of grief that lurked behind them, threatening to hollow her out entirely.
Her attention fixed upon the sword, but her once-steady hands trembled faintly. Then Thanatos’ hands enveloped hers from beneath, steadying them, grounding her.
‘I don’t know if I can do this,’ she said, voice breaking like fine glass. ‘I don’t know if I can save them.’
His fingers released hers only to lift her chin, urging her to meet the fathomless darkness of his eyes.
‘I believe in you,’ he whispered, every syllable low and sure.
‘You don’t count.’
A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest. ‘You’re right, I don’t. But for what it’s worth, I believe in you.’
Mal nodded, a fragile smile softening her face.
She took those words and buried them deep, like seeds pressed into fertile earth, to be unearthed when despair clawed at her ribs and screamed that she was nothing but failure.
She would carve them into the marrow of her bones if she had to, so that when her darkest hour came, they might yet hold her upright.
Mal trailed behind Thanatos to the castle’s great entrance, where Hades waited, his dark form haloed by the grey blue light that spilt from the volcanic stone. Allegra stood beside him, her usual serenity marred by an unfamiliar crease of worry.
‘I hear there’s trouble brewing,’ Hades drawled, though his tone carried more amusement than true concern.
Thanatos inclined his head in a silent confirmation.
‘And do we know who is stirring it?’ Hades pressed, his eyes glinting like a cat in low light.
Thanatos’ gaze slid briefly towards Mal before returning to the ruler of the Underworld, a silent exchange passing between them, one that required no words yet spoke volumes.
Mal’s jaw tightened. ‘Keep your secrets,’ she snarled, every syllable sharp with suspicion. Her eyes shifted to Allegra. ‘Stay here. I will return.’
Allegra nodded once before retreating into the shadowed depths of the castle.
Mal turned back to Hades, her fingers flexing around the hilt of her sword. ‘What, have you come to see me off?’
He gave a careless shrug. ‘To wish you luck.’
‘For what?’ she asked, eyes narrowing.
Hades only smiled, that cruel, knowing curl of lips that had undone empires, before striding away, his hand brushing Thanatos’ shoulder in an almost fatherly gesture as he passed.
Mal’s grip on her blade tightened until her knuckles whitened.
‘Ignore him,’ Thanatos said.
‘Oh, I always do,’ she replied dryly. ‘But no matter how hard I try, he never seems to take the hint.’
Thanatos stepped closer, positioning himself directly in front of her, blocking her path with deliberate ease.
‘I cannot go with you,’ he said.
‘Why not?’ Her voice was sharp, wounded.
‘Because I cannot intervene,’ he explained, each word deliberate, weighted. ‘I can only collect.’
Her lips parted with protest but then snapped shut. She nodded stiffly, swallowing her frustration like bitter wine.
‘But…’ Thanatos’ tone softened, and for the briefest moment, a smile ghosted across his face. Soft, almost dangerous in its rarity. Mal’s hands itched to strike it from his lips. ‘I can still help you.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘How?’
‘With an army, as promised.’ He gestured over her shoulder.
Mal turned, and froze.
Across the open field, shades began to manifest, one by one, pale outlines thickening into solid forms, until dozens, then hundreds, stood before her.
They were clad in spectral armour, blades and spears gripped firmly in ghostly hands, their faces lit with grim purpose and undying fury.
They advanced not as wraiths but as soldiers reborn, and when they finally halted, they bowed low, pressing two fingers to their foreheads in solemn oath.
‘May the shadows guide your way,’ the dead intoned, their voices an eerie, unified chorus that sent a chill through her soul.
Mal dipped her head in return, bowing with equal reverence.
‘May the shadows guide me,’ she answered, her voice carrying like a vow through the still air.