Chapter Seven
Hope is such a dangerous thing.
I had hope once. But the world crushed it. Burnt it. Until there was none left in me.
I have no hope left.
Tabitha Wysteria
Kage Blackburn found that death felt disappointingly similar to life.
Then again, he had scarcely lived to begin with.
As the thirdborn in a land where such a birth meant learning to be overlooked, he had grown up honing the art of invisibility.
Educated by the greatest minds of his realm, he had been shaped for a single purpose; to become the most astute advisor to the future queen.
He had spent unending hours buried in the library, sharpening his thoughts into blades of brilliance, striving to be the keenest, the brightest, the most unerringly precise.
How absurd it seemed now.
All those years lost among pages had led him nowhere. Haven, his sister, was dead. Kai…who could say where he was. Mal had turned into something that chilled him to the core. And he…
He was dead.
Kage cast a glance towards the great white wolf that had not left his side since he’d become yet another lost soul wandering the Underworld.
He had not been granted passage to Elysium upon his arrival—the place some called Heaven—accessible only by invitation.
Only the purest souls were welcomed there.
Kage had long known he would never be among them.
Too much decay festered within the dark chambers of his heart.
Fortunately, he had not been consigned to Tartarus either, the Underworld’s prison where souls awaited judgement, destined to be cast into Hell or returned to some region in the Underworld.
No, he walked instead among the Asphodel Meadows, as so many did.
It could have been worse. He was free to roam.
And yet he knew he must find a way out. Persephone would come for him soon, and she would almost certainly seek to use him against Mal.
‘We need to hide, Wren,’ he said to the wolf.
The creature dipped its head, then padded forward. When it halted and turned back—eyes glinting with impatience—Kage frowned, realising the wolf was waiting for him.
With reluctant resolve, he followed.
He found himself wondering where Bryn Wynter had gone. He had not seen the wolverian prince in some time, and part of him suspected Bryn had likely spared Kage no further thought.
‘Doesn’t matter now,’ he murmured to Wren when the wolf stopped once more, emitting a few irritated snorts at having to wait.
‘There was never any hope for us.’ His dark eyes widened slightly when the wolf nudged against him.
A soft, unexpected comfort. He smiled, faintly, for the first time since dying.
Wren pressed on, and Kage followed with weary reluctance.
They moved through deserted streets where the cracked stone roads were split by meandering rivers, carving their way through the abandoned town.
It lay eerily silent around them, as though even the souls had grown wary beneath the rule of their new queen.
When they finally left the Asphodel Meadows behind, Kage slowed to a halt.
‘Wren…’
The wolf’s icy-blue eyes glinted with recognition.
With a resigned breath, Kage continued along the path towards a towering set of iron gates. He looked up at them uneasily, then pushed them open and stepped through, ignoring the way every hair on his body stiffened in warning.
They had reached Tartarus.
The Underworld’s prison.
‘Why have you brought us here?’ he muttered to the wolf. ‘We’re supposed to be hiding from Persephone.’
If wolves had the capacity to roll their eyes, he was quite certain Wren would have done so then.
There was little to Tartarus beyond scorched volcanic stone and a long corridor from which distant screams echoed ceaselessly. The tranquil rivers of the Underworld had here been replaced by torrents of molten lava, flowing like blood through the realm’s broken veins.
Kage’s gaze caught upon a throne positioned near the entrance, fashioned from skulls and bleached bone.
Seated upon it was a man he did not recognise.
Yet something about him felt strangely familiar, a whisper along the edges of memory that he could not quite grasp.
He was exquisite to behold, with skin as pale as death itself, short dark hair, and eyes that did not match—one black as the abyss, the other a vivid red.
He was bare-chested, offering no attempt to conceal the sculpted lines of his torso.
Tight leather trousers clung to long legs, completed by boots and nothing more.
His features were sharp, his lips curved into a smirk that seemed etched permanently into his expression.
And when his gaze fell upon Kage, those mismatched eyes gleamed with undeniable interest.
‘I believe you’re lost,’ the man remarked.
Kage ignored him, his attention instead drawn to the white wolf now trotting to the stranger’s side, lavishing him with eager licks. The man did not seem remotely inconvenienced by the display; if anything, his eyes brightened with quiet amusement.
‘Who are you?’ Kage asked, watching with detached curiosity as Wren settled beside him as though she had always belonged there.
The man gave a soft, derisive snort, resting a pale hand upon the wolf’s flank as he slouched back into his throne with languid ease. ‘Zagreus. Son of Hades and Persephone.’
Kage betrayed no reaction. He stood in still silence, hands buried in his pockets, though he did shoot the wolf a look laden with weary exasperation.
‘And you must be Kage Blackburn,’ Zagreus continued, his expression curving into something cruel.
He waved a dismissive hand the moment the wyverian prince fully faced him.
‘We share a sister. I can spot a Blackburn at a glance. My mother killed you, didn’t she?
’ He canted his head in a mockingly casual manner, lips curling.
‘She did.’
‘Unpleasant business,’ Zagreus mused, examining his nails.
‘My mother is rather displeased at present. Our sister saw fit to send my other sister, Makaria, down into the pits of Hell, and refuses to retrieve her. If I were you, I’d hide.
Should my mother get her claws into you, she’ll ensure you suffer. ’
‘I’m quite aware.’
‘So you’re here because…’
Kage gestured towards the wolf. ‘She brought me.’
‘She?’
‘Her name is Wren.’
Zagreus frowned, glancing over at the wolf. ‘Is that so?’
‘We need a place to hide.’
Zagreus’ smirk deepened. ‘And you thought here would serve?’ He scratched the wolf with casual fascination. ‘What a wicked little creature you are, Wren.’
Kage tensed at his tone. He disliked the ease with which Zagreus spoke to her, disliked the quiet implication of kinship. Now that he had Wren back, the thought of sharing her, even in friendship, unsettled him.
‘And why should I help you?’ Zagreus asked, turning his attention back to Kage. ‘I would be defying my mother.’
Kage shrugged, unaffected. ‘She brought me here for a reason. She seems to think you will.’
Zagreus laughed softly. ‘She’s not wrong. I never had much patience for my mother. Always so intent on keeping me close.’ He let his hand fall from the wolf’s fur. ‘We’ve come to know one another, haven’t we?’ he said to Wren. She dipped her head in affirmation.
‘My sister will come for us,’ Kage said. ‘It won’t be long.’
Zagreus exhaled a quiet snort, returning his attention to Kage. Leaning forward, his mismatched eyes narrowed. ‘Are you so certain of that, wyverian prince?’
‘I am.’
They held one another’s stare in charged silence until Zagreus rose from his throne of bone and stepped nearer, hands tucked smoothly into his pockets, mirroring Kage’s stance. They were of equal height, lean of frame. Reflective, almost. Too alike.
‘I’ll offer you a word of advice from a prince of the Underworld to a wyverian prince,’ Zagreus said, leaning in until their breaths intertwined. Instinct urged Kage to recoil, as though at any moment Zagreus might reach out and tear into him with unseen claws.
His gaze flicked past Zagreus’ shoulder, seeking Wren. He wondered why she wished him to trust this creature born of shadows.
But he would.
If Wren asked it of him.
‘A word of advice,’ Zagreus repeated, and his mismatched eyes gleamed with mischief. ‘Never trust a god.’
‘I trust my sister Mal.’
‘And yet here you stand, dead because of it.’
Before Kage could muster a reply, Zagreus pivoted sharply and strode down the corridor from which the screams echoed, unceasing and hollow. The white wolf followed at his heel, and after a moment’s hesitation, Kage did the same, his reluctance trailing behind him like a shadow.