Chapter Sixty-Eight
None of the Kings of Hell particularly like Hades. Though I wouldn’t either, if I was trapped in Hell because of him. He created the rings, after all. He is as much to blame as the Sun God. I think Hades knows this, and deep down, he has always feared the idea of them escaping the rings.
Tabitha Wysteria
‘I need to continue into the next ring,’ Mal said to the enormous beast.
Livyatan chuckled, the sound rolling across the beach like distant thunder.
‘Very well, child of Hades,’ he replied. ‘You may continue your journey. But be warned. Where you are headed, there may be no returning from it.’
Mal nodded, her grip tightening around the hilt of her sword. She reached for Wren, and together they watched as the colossal wyvern head drew closer and closer, its vast jaws slowly spreading open.
For a brief moment Mal hesitated.
A flicker of doubt crossed her mind, wondering if this was some cruel trick. But there was nothing else she could do.
With a sharp breath, she leapt forward into the beast’s waiting mouth. The moment its enormous jaws closed around them, darkness swallowed everything.
Then Livyatan swallowed them whole.
Mal felt her body drop.
She fell and fell, tumbling through a void that seemed to stretch endlessly, an eternal descent through nothingness.
Until suddenly her back struck solid ground.
The impact knocked the breath from her lungs. Groaning softly, Mal pushed herself upright and realised she had landed upon soft grass.
She blinked.
Surrounding her was a garden.
Ancient ruins lay scattered among the greenery, pale stone broken and softened by time. Waterfalls spilt gently through the crumbling structures, their quiet murmur filling the air. And everywhere Mal looked, flowers bloomed in every colour imaginable.
Wren was already on her feet. She leaned forward to sniff an enormous pink blossom, only to sneeze violently a moment later before bursting into laughter.
‘This seems far too pleasant to be a ring of Hell,’ she said.
Mal found herself silently agreeing.
Butterflies drifted lazily above their heads, and when Mal glanced up, she found the sky overhead impossibly blue and bright.
They walked slowly through the garden until they reached a narrow river that cut the land in two, separating them from a small island at its centre. A simple wooden bridge stretched across the water, its planks worn smooth with age.
Wren hurried across it without hesitation.
Mal did not like the look of it—not in the slightest—but she followed nonetheless.
The island itself was little more than a patch of grass and tangled vegetation. Yet something gleamed not far ahead, catching Mal’s attention. She moved towards it and then stopped short, staring in quiet astonishment.
A large mirror stood alone in the centre of the island.
‘What do ya think it’s for?’ Wren asked curiously.
Mal only shrugged.
At first the glass reflected nothing but the garden behind her. But then the image shifted.
She saw a small blonde child with black horns running across sunlit grass, giggling with delight. Mal herself chased after the child in the reflection, laughter bright in her eyes, while Ash followed close behind them both.
Mal recoiled, her purple eyes widening.
She spun around quickly, unsure whether what she had seen had been real or some cruel illusion. Her free hand moved instinctively to her stomach, as though her child still rested there.
‘Strange, isn’t it?’ a voice said softly. ‘The many shapes greed may take for each of us.’
Mal turned.
A woman approached them across the grass. She wore a long red gown that flowed about her like liquid flame. Her beauty was striking, her skin shimmering faintly as though brushed with gold.
‘When most people think of greed,’ the woman continued, ‘they imagine coins.’ She lifted her golden and gleaming hands, and a heavy coin rolled playfully between her fingers. ‘But greed can be so many things. The hunger to possess more than one truly deserves.’
Mal glanced back at the mirror.
This time the reflection had changed again.
Now she saw herself seated upon a throne.
‘Mammon,’ Mal said quietly, turning her attention back to the woman.
Jewels glittered throughout Mammon’s golden hair—emeralds, rubies, diamonds—layered so artfully they seemed almost woven into the strands. If not for the absence of horns, Mal might have mistaken her for some richly adorned drakonian noblewoman.
‘Welcome to my ring,’ the king of Hell said, her smile widening into something both dazzling and wicked. She leaned closer, her golden eyes studying Mal with greedy fascination. ‘I have always wanted purple eyes like yours to add to my collection.’
Mal stepped back at once and lifted her sword, the tip of the blade resting lightly beneath Mammon’s chin.
The demon only chuckled and withdrew a step.
‘Why is a child of Hades wandering through my gardens?’ she asked.
‘I need to cross your ring,’ Mal replied evenly.
Mammon feigned disinterest, glancing down at her long golden nails as though the conversation barely deserved her attention.
‘What for?’
‘I must speak with Lucifer.’
Mammon’s eyes widened, bright as polished coins.
‘One does not simply visit Lucifer…’
Mal tilted her head slightly. ‘I’m sure he misses me after last time.’
Mammon laughed softly.
‘Oh, I’m certain he does. Very few souls ever reach his ring.
’ She tapped one finger thoughtfully against her chin.
‘He must be terribly lonely without his beloved to keep him company.’ Her smile turned sly.
‘I heard whispers, you know, that he took you under his wing because you resembled her.’ Mammon’s gaze sharpened. ‘Because you looked so much like Nyx.’
Mal stiffened slightly.
Her sword remained raised, though now the blade pointed squarely at the demon’s chest.
‘When you were cast down here,’ Mal said slowly, ‘why were you separated into these different rings? I’ve heard that each ring represents the sin committed against the Sun God… but if you were truly condemned for helping Nyx escape…’ Her words trailed off, the implication hanging between them.
Mammon’s smile sharpened, as though she enjoyed the question far more than the threat of the blade.
Mal held her ground, purple eyes steady.
If the kings of Hell had been imprisoned for defying the Sun God, then the story the world had been told, about their sins and their punishments, suddenly seemed far less simple than it had always appeared.
Mammon laughed softly. ‘Is that what they made everyone believe?’ She shook her head, the jewels in her golden hair chiming faintly together. ‘Oh no, child of Hades. These sins do not belong to us.’ Her voice lowered slightly. ‘They are the Sun God’s sins.’
Mal frowned faintly, but Mammon continued before she could speak.
‘Each ring represents a deadly sin he committed himself. And he cast us down here as punishment to relive them endlessly, so that we would never forget him.’ She gestured lazily towards the horizon of the garden. ‘The deeper you descend through the rings, the greater the sin he forced upon us.’
Her golden eyes darkened.
‘The Sun God was greedy.’ Mammon let the words linger. ‘He always wanted more power. The thought that Nyx might be stronger than him… he could not bear it.’ She gave a light shrug. ‘So he wanted her. Entirely for himself.’
She laughed again, though there was little amusement in the sound. ‘He fell in love with her and still it was not enough. He always wanted more.’ Her fingers flicked idly through the air. ‘And so here I remain, trapped to relive his greed as though it were my own.’
Another small shrug.
‘Though with time… we have become these sins ourselves. Greed flows through me now, when once it did not.’ She glanced back at Mal. ‘All because I defied my god. Because I chose to stand beside one of my own.’
Mal felt an unexpected pang of sympathy stir within her chest.
All of these kings of Hell had been condemned for helping a mother escape the grasp of a god who wished to claim her as his possession.
‘I’m sorry,’ Mal said quietly. ‘If I kill the Sun God… would you be free?’
Mammon gave a small, elegant shrug. ‘I do not know, child of Hades.’
‘Then it is worth trying.’ Mal turned to Wren. ‘I think you should go back now, Wren. The next ring belongs to Lucifer and…’
She did not need to finish.
Wren already understood.
The wolverian princess nodded and hurried forward, throwing her arms tightly around Mal.
‘Stay with Zagreus until I return,’ Mal said softly.
‘I will. I promise.’ Wren pulled back with a bright smile. ‘Be careful.’ She moved to Mammon’s side, and the king of Hell lifted one golden hand, gesturing lightly towards the mirror standing at the centre of the island.
Mal needed no further explanation.
With one last look at Wren and at the strange golden monarch of this ring, she turned back to the mirror.
The reflection had changed again.
Her daughter no longer ran laughing through the glass, and the throne had vanished. Now the mirror revealed a frozen land beneath a dark sky. Snow stretched endlessly across the ground, and a vast lake lay frozen solid beneath the cold light.
On the far side of the ice stood a figure.
Waiting.
Mal tightened her grip on the hilt of her sword.
She drew one long breath.
Then she stepped through the mirror.