Chapter Twenty-Three
I don’t know why I was never able to love Melinoe.
When she was born, I tried. I tried to love her.
But I never felt anything towards her. As if I’d never even birthed her.
All I could see was her father’s face when I looked at her.
All I saw was the man that was keeping me caged in.
Who would never allow me to leave. And with time, I began to despise my own child.
I hated myself for it. So in turn, to protect her from my hatred, I turned my back on her. Ignored her.
And abandoned her.
Tabitha Wysteria
‘Is it truly safe for you to keep visiting this realm in your condition?’ Vera asked softly.
Mal halted a few steps from the castle, its shadowed towers rising just ahead.
Lately, she found herself returning here more and more often, slipping into this private dominion of smoke and dusk.
She felt safer within it, perhaps because the damned creature could not follow her here, could not whisper its poison into her ear.
‘This is my realm,’ Mal replied, moving forward again. ‘Why would it harm me?’
Vera’s purple eyes drifted downward, settling on the swell of Mal’s stomach. ‘It is not necessarily you I worry about.’
‘The child is not only Ash’s,’ Mal said, her jaw tightening. ‘She is mine as well. This place will not harm my daughter.’
But you might, a treacherous thought murmured from the depths of her mind. Mal crushed it instantly, straightened her shoulders, and strode into the castle.
Allegra was already in the main hall, seated at the long table. The moment she sensed Mal’s presence, she lifted her head, brown curls floating as though stirred by an unseen tide. Mal joined her, settling into the chair and resting both hands over her stomach.
‘It will not be long now,’ Allegra said gently, leaning closer to lay her hand over Mal’s belly.
This realm was a strange one—where bodies were not solid but half-formed, more spirit than flesh. Stranger still was how at ease Mal felt here, how the thought sometimes crept in that she might simply remain, hidden away with Allegra and Vera, far from gods and curses and blood.
But Mal Blackburn did not hide.
No.
She was a wyverian, and wyverians did not flee from their demons, especially not the ones that wore her own face and spat venom straight into her mind.
‘When the child is born,’ Mal said quietly, ‘I will place her in your care. Both of you.’ Her hand drifted to her stomach, protective, resolute. ‘She will be safe here. Persephone cannot enter this realm. No one can except for me and Thanatos.’
Vera and Allegra exchanged a glance, unease passing silently between them.
‘And how long can we remain?’ Vera asked at last. ‘We are meant to dwell in Hell. I doubt the kings there will tolerate our absence for long.’
Mal leaned back in her chair, fingers absently tracing slow circles over her belly.
‘Allegra’s soul should be secure enough,’ she replied.
‘I struck a bargain with the king of Hell. As long as my sister Makaria remains trapped beneath his claws, Allegra is spared.’ She caught the way Allegra stiffened. ‘Second thoughts?’
‘I did not choose this path,’ Allegra said, her voice low.
‘No,’ Mal agreed, tilting her head. ‘You did not. But would you rather remain there, chained in Hell, or here?’
Allegra bit her lower lip. Mal noticed how her hands clenched, betraying the conflict she would not voice.
‘And what of me?’ Vera asked, frowning. ‘I belong in Hell as well. Yet when I died, you brought me here instead.’
Mal exhaled slowly. Vera was right. She had broken the rules the moment she had slain the witch within the realm of shadows.
‘I do not yet know what fate holds for you,’ Mal admitted.
‘Perhaps Hell will open its gates and its kings will come for us all. But until that day arrives, we will not borrow trouble from tomorrow.’ Her stare hardened.
‘First, we deal with Persephone. Once her crown is mine, bargaining with Hell will become far… simpler.’
‘And how do you intend to rid yourself of Persephone?’ Allegra asked.
‘She will not set foot on mortal soil,’ Mal replied calmly. ‘Not where I could kill her.’
‘What if Makaria were taken to the mortal realm?’ Vera suggested.
‘I doubt it would succeed.’ Mal twined a strand of black hair around her finger, the gesture betraying her unease. ‘She would send Thanatos to retrieve Makaria. She would never risk herself. And the moment Makaria leaves Hell, Allegra would be dragged back in her place.’
‘I will have to return one day,’ Allegra said softly, the words barely more than a breath.
Mal paused, a faint crease forming between her brows. ‘Perhaps…’
‘Why does it matter to you if I remain here?’ Allegra pressed, distrust tightening her features. ‘We were never friends. You owe me nothing.’
‘That much is true,’ Mal said evenly. ‘But you can help me master my witchcraft. And I need you both to care for my child. If one of you should fall, the other must be there to take her place.’
‘So we are kept here merely to serve you.’
Mal caught the way Vera’s eyes narrowed at her sister’s tone and let out a quiet, humourless laugh. ‘I will soon be queen of the Underworld. Of course you will serve me. Everyone will.’ She exhaled, then glanced at Vera. ‘But I would rather think of you both as… allies.’
Vera inclined her head, once, in silent agreement.
‘Do you not feel remorse for your sister?’ Allegra asked.
Mal tilted her head, thoughtful. She had thought of Makaria countless times since leaving her in Hell.
At first, the guilt had been sharp, almost unbearable.
But the moment Persephone had revealed the truth about Mal, about who she was, that guilt had withered into something colder.
‘They lied to me,’ she said quietly. ‘All of them. Everyone knew the truth long before I did. They knew me already, and still they chose deceit. Zagreus, Makaria, Thanatos, Hades…every single one of them pretended we had never met.’ Her gaze hardened as it settled on Vera and Allegra.
‘Makaria could have warned me. She could have told me the truth. Instead, she stayed silent. So no. No, I do not feel sorry that she is trapped in Hell.’
Both witches inclined their heads slowly, accepting her words without protest.
After a moment’s quiet, Allegra spoke again. ‘And what of Ash? I doubt he will allow you to bring the child here.’
‘If my daughter is safe here,’ Mal replied, her voice steady, ‘he will not object.’
From somewhere beyond the castle walls, wyverns roared as they cut through the dark, starless sky of her shadow realm, their cries echoing like a promise, or a warning.
‘So how do we destroy Persephone?’ Vera asked, folding her arms across her chest. ‘We cannot lure her onto mortal soil. She will never be so foolish.’
Allegra’s dark fingers tapped against the shadow-stone table. Mal watched the motion, mesmerised, even though none of it was truly solid—the table, their hands, their bodies, all woven from smoke and half-thoughts. Still, she watched as if it mattered. As if it were real.
Her mind drifted, unbidden, to the image of Persephone fallen and broken, erased from every realm.
Mal pictured it with unsettling clarity: the queen’s crown tumbling to the ground, her throat opened beneath Mal’s blade.
For what she had done to Kage. For what she had done to her family.
Persephone did not deserve a swift end. Mal would savour it.
‘There is a way,’ a voice said.
Mal went utterly still.
Slowly, she turned, already knowing who stood behind her. There was only one other soul who could cross into her realm unbidden. One presence she could never fully shut out. One bond she had never asked for and could never sever.
Thanatos smiled, a wicked and achingly familiar smile.
And Mal hated him for it.
Hated how that smile still stirred something in her chest.
Hated even more that a part of her had missed it.
‘You ought to be careful,’ Mal said at last, turning away from him. ‘If you keep straying from Persephone’s side, she will begin to wonder.’
‘I am merely running an errand,’ Thanatos replied, moving to her side and taking the seat to her left.
Mal could not help but notice how his eyes lingered on the curve of her stomach before slowly travelling upwards, along the pale line of her throat, to her face.
There was something unnervingly intimate in the way he looked at her, as though he could strip her bare with nothing more than his attention. She cleared her throat, sharply.
‘When I become queen,’ Mal said, her voice firm, ‘you will be bound to me. Is there a way to sever such an attachment?’
‘No,’ Thanatos answered without hesitation. ‘Death serves the king or queen of the Underworld. It has always been so.’
‘I was under the impression that Death served no one.’
He shrugged lightly. ‘In a sense.’ His lips curved, faint but sincere. ‘But if I must serve anyone… I would wish it to be you, Melinoe.’
Mal turned her face away, deliberately ignoring the presence at her side.
‘Don’t say such ridiculous things.’ She fixed her attention on Vera instead, but that proved no refuge either for Vera was smiling far too knowingly.
With a quiet exhale, Mal straightened and said, her tone sharp as a drawn blade, ‘You mentioned there is a way to be rid of Persephone. Say it.’
She had not meant to be so cold, not truly.
But ever since the truth of her bond with Thanatos had been laid bare, warmth felt like a betrayal of herself.
Lies had a way of festering, and forgiveness did not come easily.
Her father Hades was gone beyond her reach, beyond her wrath, and someone had to bear the weight of her fury.
Thanatos sighed, clearly sensing the storm simmering behind Mal’s purple glare.
‘You could repay her,’ he said at last.
Mal frowned. ‘Repay her?’
‘She aided your mother, Hecate, in casting you into Hell,’ Thanatos replied, his jaw tightening. ‘You could return the favour.’
Mal leaned back in her chair, folding into the stone as though it were a throne already waiting for her.
She let his words settle, heavy and deliberate.
Yes, she knew the tale well enough. How fear had driven her mother to betrayal.
How Persephone had lent her hand in condemning Mal to the depths of Hell.
And yet Mal had always suspected there was more to that story, threads left deliberately untold, truths buried where they could not easily be unearthed.
‘If I trap Persephone in Hell,’ Mal asked quietly, ‘would she cease to be Queen of the Underworld?’
‘Yes,’ Thanatos replied without hesitation.
Mal inclined her head. ‘Then I would need to strike a bargain with a king.’ She spoke slowly, deliberately, her gaze fixed on him. Thanatos shifted, unease flickering across his features, but he nodded all the same. ‘Very well.’
‘Not yet,’ Thanatos said, his dark eyes drifting to Mal’s stomach. ‘It is far too dangerous to enter Hell with a child in your womb, Melinoe. The kings would sense it. They would want the babe. You must wait until she is born.’
Mal released a breath through her nose, irritation tightening her jaw.
‘Not long now,’ Allegra added gently. ‘A month or two, at most.’
Mal bit the inside of her cheek, her thoughts churning. What if she ignored them? What if she descended into Hell regardless, consequences be damned? She needed Persephone gone, needed her erased from every realm.
But if she went now, and something happened to her child…
No. She could not risk that. She would wait. She would do this properly.
And yet dread coiled in her chest all the same. The creature—the God-Killer—was growing stronger. She could feel it, gnawing at her thoughts, poisoning them, hollowing her out from the inside.
What if, by the time her daughter drew her first breath, Mal Blackburn was already lost?
‘This is dangerous,’ Vera warned, folding her arms. ‘There is no telling what the kings of Hell might demand in return for trapping Persephone in their realm.’
Mal lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug. ‘Whatever price they name, I will pay it.’
Thanatos stiffened. His gaze sharpened, shadows pooling in his eyes.
‘We will do anything to be rid of her,’ Mal continued, her attention fixed squarely on him. ‘Won’t we, husband?’
Thanatos went utterly rigid, as though her words had struck something raw and exposed. And Mal, gods help her, savoured it. For once, he was the one caught off balance. For once, she held the reins.
She was weary of being outmanoeuvred. Weary of others standing two steps ahead while she was spoken to like a child who knew nothing of crowns or consequence. If she was to become the future queen of the Underworld, then she would no longer ask for permission. She would take command.
Mal’s lips curved slowly, deliberately, into a smile edged with cruelty.
‘I will do anything for my crown,’ she said softly, the words honed sharp enough to draw blood, sharp enough to rival glass.