Epilogue #2
‘Well,’ Persephone said, her smile deepening, ‘history has a way of reshaping its stories… bending them to suit the world’s taste.
’ She paused, savouring Mal’s tension. ‘The first wyverian king, a thousand years past, was never a king at all.’ Her smile widened when she saw Mal stiffen. ‘She was a queen.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Mal murmured.
‘That is because you were not truly born twenty-four summers ago to King Ozul and Queen Senka, Mal Blackburn,’ Persephone replied, her words soft but lethal.
‘You were born a god, a thousand years ago, the child of Hades and Hecate.
Hecate loved to claim she was manipulated, but believe it or not, there was a time when she adored Hades.
From that union, you were created. But your mother, ever fickle, became infatuated with her own creations and abandoned you both.
Your father, desperate to win her back, carved the Kingdom of Darkness from shadow itself, a reflection of the Underworld, built to lure her home, to him, and to you. Yet, even then, she never returned.
‘She fell in love with her own creations,’ Persephone continued, voice smooth and cruelly patient, ‘and spent more time fawning over mortals than with Hades or with you.
And when you came of age, bitterness bloomed within you, for your mother had chosen mortal flesh and fleeting lives over her own blood. So you and Hades conspired to end her.
‘You became the first wyverian queen to rule the Kingdom of Darkness, ensuring you could watch her every move, every whisper, every betrayal. It was you who discovered she had given her heart to a wyverian man, and it was you who carried that poisoned truth back to Hades.’
Persephone’s eyes gleamed, savouring every word. ‘And it was you who killed that wyverian man, the very first time. You invited them to dine at the castle. A peace offering. But you poisoned him with an apple.’
She leaned back in her throne, smile sharp as a knife.
‘That is why the curse will never end simply because Hades and Hecate have died. You are its origin, Mal Blackburn. For a thousand years, you and your father plotted to destroy your mother. You unearthed the secret of the God-Killer, and together you vowed to claim that power, to become it, so you could end Hecate once and for all.’
Her tone darkened, delight curling at the edges.
‘The trouble was… Hecate discovered your little scheme. And she cursed you, cursed you straight into Hell. Thanatos here went to fetch you, did he not?’ She gestured to him, and his shoulders drew taut as bowstrings.
‘He made a bargain with one of Hell’s kings.
Hades had gone once before and had already angered the kings beyond measure.
But Thanatos succeeded… though the price was cruel.
You were allowed to leave Hell, but stripped of memory, reborn into mortal flesh, unaware of what you truly were. ’
Mal’s eyes widened, shock blanching her face as she shook her head.
‘By then, the curse was already set, and Hades could not go to King Ozul to explain,’ Persephone said, her voice silk-wrapped venom. ‘But Thanatos is death itself, free to walk all realms as he pleases. He went and told King Ozul why his wife bore life once more… and what needed to be done.’
‘You’re lying.’
‘And why would I lie?’ Persephone reclined against the throne, her expression one of languid amusement.
‘You’re a goddess,’ Mal spat, her tone sharp as drawn steel. ‘And all gods lie.’
‘You’re not wrong.’ Persephone laughed, low and soft, a sound like ice cracking on water. ‘But the truth of it, Mal Blackburn, is this: you began all of it. Because you could not stomach that your mother chose a mortal over you. And because she cursed you for it.’
‘No…’ Mal shook her head, disbelief curdling her voice. ‘You’re lying.’
‘Fine.’ Persephone lifted one shoulder in a lazy shrug. ‘Then ask him.’ She gestured towards Thanatos.
Those black, dangerous eyes cut to Persephone, simmering with warning, before he exhaled and turned his gaze on Mal.
‘For a thousand years, Mal Blackburn, you have been a princess here in the Underworld,’ Persephone said, relentless now, her words like slow-turning knives.
‘You knew me already. You stood witness when your father wed me. You were there when I birthed Makaria and Zagreus into this wretched world. You have always been the beginning and the end.’
‘Stop it,’ Thanatos said, his black eyes gleaming with hate, his voice taut and trembling.
But Persephone would not stop. Let Mal Blackburn drown in the truth they had all conspired to keep from her, let her choke on the bitterness she herself had sown.
‘Shall I tell her, or will you finally grow some balls, Thanatos, and speak it yourself?’ Persephone’s words were a silken dagger, barbed and cruel.
Fury darkened his finely sculpted face, a storm carved in marble, but Persephone no longer cared. Let them all suffer, as she had suffered when they had torn her children from her arms.
‘Tell me what?’ Mal demanded, her body trembling, though whether from fear or rage, even she could not tell.
‘Don’t,’ Thanatos warned, his voice deep, dangerous.
Persephone dismissed his warning with a languid flick of her wrist.
‘He has been keeping the greatest secret of them all,’ she said, her smile stretching wide, sharp enough to wound.
Mal’s fingers twitched, as though she might seize Thanatos by the arm and drag the truth from him herself, but she mastered the impulse, drawing herself taut instead.
Her purple eyes narrowed, danger glinting within their depths once more.
‘What is it?’ she asked, voice low, blade glinting in her hand like a promise of violence.
Persephone’s smile curled into something almost serpentine. ‘You and Thanatos already knew each other.’
‘Stop it,’ he growled, voice reverberating like distant thunder.
But Persephone would not stop. No, she would let the rot of their lies spill into the open, let it poison everything they had left.
‘You have known each other for a thousand years, Mal Blackburn,’ she said, her voice soft, almost reverent in its cruelty. ‘Because he is your husband.’
THE END