24. Chapter 24
Chapter twenty-four
Corre
W hen Corre was six years old, she couldn’t speak. There wasn’t much she remembered about that time, but she did remember how patient her mother had been. She remembered that, despite how scared she was to be with this unknown goddess in this strange, tiny house, Berenice always tried, and she always wore a gentle smile. Corre never felt that she must hurry up and speak or do exactly the right thing. And that was probably what got her to finally speak one day—when she finally let herself utter something other than that song.
When she looked back on it now, she couldn’t remember the details of it—only snippets and how Berenice made her feel. That was enough to tell her one part of the story, but it haunted her that she couldn’t remember what her life had been like before that point. Before her voice had been snatched from her and everything became confusing and strange. She couldn’t remember why she’d sung that haunting melody or ceased speaking. She didn’t even know if she’d spoken at all before she was six. For all she knew, she’d been born without speech.
But Berenice said she’d sing. She’d sing that melancholy tune, even when she wouldn’t utter an un-cadenced word. For weeks—months—she sang that song. Until one day, she finally spoke, and the song vanished from her memory.
It was eerie. When Corre thought about it too long, it scratched at the parts of her brain she didn’t like to think about. At the memories she didn’t understand. The pain she didn’t know how to locate and do away with.
But that song . . .
It hadn’t vanished. Because all of a sudden, she started singing it again. Even now, after stitching up Hades and wondering what was happening to him in that dining hall, that song was playing inside her head, as if it’d been locked away in a lost music box deep in the cracks of her mind, stuck shut until she was old enough to pry it open and listen to it again.
She desperately wished she could close it. Seal it back up. She didn’t like it. With its unnerving ebbs and flows, ups and downs, and sideways notes. It didn’t sit well with her. It wasn’t right.
It was easier for her to push it aside and get up to wander about the labyrinth, even though she knew how dangerous it was. How incredibly reckless it was. It was better than being alone, to sit there and listen to that song playing over and over until Theron returned, when she could listen to his soothingly deep voice instead. Until then, she had to do something else. Something reckless. So that song would stop playing in her head.
Theron
“Why are you so afraid?” He scoffed.
“I’m not afraid,” the boy said, lifting his head.
His master sat back on his throne. “Prove it.” He pointed a crooked finger toward the corridor.
Theron’s body trembled until he couldn’t stop the shaking. It overpowered him. Still, he walked, following the path of that crooked finger until he had no choice but to open the door.
“You haven’t touched your food,” Thanatos said.
Theron sat upright. “I’m sorry. I’m just . . .” I can’t say ‘tired’. I can’t say ‘worn out’. “I was thinking. I will eat it now. My apologies.”
“Ts. Stop apologizing, boy. It makes you look weak.”
“Yes, sir.” Theron picked at the dark meat soaked in red and thick, gooey black on his plate. This meat was rare, and he almost didn’t want to know what beast it had come from, but it was probably the thing he’d slain earlier. He looked down at the blood as he slowly chewed.
“Eat it,” Thanatos commanded.
“I don’t like meat!” the boy cried. A hot clap flashed across his cheek, and blood trickled into his mouth. He hated when his master hit him. Even more than he hated meat. “Yes, sir,” he said, trying to control the tremor in his voice.
Theron took a swig of his wine and tried not to think, but Correlia’s voice echoed in his mind. ‘You can’t tell me there’s never been a time in your life that you wanted something else.’
“Is something wrong with the food?” Thanatos said, anger gurgling in his throat.
“No, sir.” Theron took another bite. “It really is delicious.”
“Hmph.” The giant, pale creature took a swig from his massive goblet and turned to speak to his general. “Did you receive any news?”
“I’m afraid my soldiers have found nothing yet, sir.”
Theron looked up. “What are you talking about?”
Nikias sneered. “What is wrong with you lately? You’re—”
“Elsewhere,” Thanatos drawled, narrowing his eyes.
“I’m preoccupied with my training. That’s all.”
Thanatos’s eyes stayed narrowed. “We were talking about the girl.”
Theron’s heart stopped. “The . . .girl?”
“Nikias’s soldiers haven’t found her anywhere.”
Theron’s stomach turned to lead. He downed his wine. “Where have you looked?”
Stay calm. Keep your mind steady.
“Everywhere,” Nikias said with a huff. “We’ve looked in and around her house and all over Olympus. We can’t find her anywhere.”
“Oh.” Stay. Calm. “Why are you searching for her?” Keep your mind steady.
Thanatos scoffed. “This was your idea.” Theron looked up, his heart racing. “You said she was someone to look out for. I had thought as much, but it was confirmed when you found her. We need her.”
“Need her for what?”
“Interrogation, what else?” Nikias said, poking at the last bite of his meat. He popped it into his mouth and looked at Theron like he was stupid. He’d always been like that.
“You’re Hades?” the young teen had said with a scoff when both boys had been taken to their chambers that first night in Tartarus. He’d looked him up and down. “Not much of a god if you ask me.”
They’d never gotten along, but Theron couldn’t stand Nikias, either. That insipid, tight-laced, stick up his—
“And you’ll be heading it,” Thanatos said, pointing a gnarled finger at Theron.
His stomach dropped to his knees. “Me?”
“Yes. You . You do want to be Hades, don’t you?”
He forced down a piece of meat. This could be good , he reasoned. If he had to interrogate her, he could be in control. Keep her safe. “What are we trying to get out of her?”
“Everything,” his master said, then looked back at Nikias. “As Theron previously mentioned, she’s stronger than she should be. There’s something about her that doesn’t sit right with me. Find her and bring her to me. Don’t stop until you do. Or you might as well not come back at all.”
Theron’s stomach twisted.
The bloodthirsty spark in Nikias’s eyes flickered. “Of course, master. I won’t disappoint you.”
Suddenly things were much, much worse.
Corre
Corre’s footsteps echoed as she padded down the corridor. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been walking and turning right, then left, then another left, and so on, but it’d been too long. Especially for her to think she was in any sort of control of her situation. Finally, after another loop around nothing but more passageways and dirt floors crawling with mice and insects she’d never seen before, she let herself admit it.
She was lost.
She couldn’t believe she’d gotten herself lost in Tartarus. Of all the idiotic—
“Come this way,” a voice whistled through the air. It was so faint that Corre second-guessed if she’d truly heard it. But then it spoke again. “Come, girl. Come.”
She turned around but still saw nothing. A light breeze brushed against her ankles, lightly pushing her in the direction of the voice. She flipped back around and stifled a gasp at the white image of an old woman floating in front of her.
“Come,” it said again before turning around and slipping through the wall.
Corre knew better than to follow a mirage in the heart of Tartarus but, at this point, she was desperate. She was completely lost. Besides, she could just follow it part of the way and then fight her way out of whatever situation she got herself into, right? Right.
It was her only option.
Before she let herself think too hard about it, she took a step forward and followed it into the dark.
Theron
There were hundreds of possible things Thanatos could do to and with Correlia, and every single one that came to mind made his insides twist. The worst part was that he knew she wouldn’t know what to say or not to say to his master if he decided to be a part of the interrogation.
He was convinced she really was as na?ve as she’d seemed upon their first meeting. Unaware of how the world worked or what to be afraid of.
As he swung the door open to his chambers, he tried to get it all out of his head, but one look at the empty room made his stomach sink. “Correlia?” Panic ricocheted through his gut. “ Correlia? ”
His stomach squeezed tighter.
He thought of Thanatos. Of Nikias and that devilish gleam in his eyes—so desperate to please Thanatos and become his favorite. He’d do anything to please their master. He’d always been furious that he wasn’t deemed the god-to-be, and Theron knew that the general was trying to prove he was a more worthy fit. That maybe he could usurp the throne or replace him before Theron even finished his training.
“Correlia, this isn’t funny. Where are you?”
Silence.
The room spun around him as he staggered to the door, slamming it shut as he ran out into the labyrinth. He sped down each corridor, frantically searching every nook and hiding place. Fear racked his body.
Where are you?
Corre
The air continued pulling her closer to the voice. A mesmerizing warmth saturated her senses as she followed the path the mysterious spirit-like goddess had taken. But the wisp of a woman was nowhere in sight. Corre decided to at least follow the labyrinth in the opposite direction of the one that led to Thanatos’s chambers—the one attached to that castle. It seemed to be the best bet if she didn’t want to get caught. It would at least buy her some time to think and figure out how to make it back to Theron’s quarters.
If she wanted to understand more about Hades and how the Underworld worked, and everything else that went on down here, she needed to memorize her surroundings, so she could make her way back if necessary. This journey wasn’t stupid. It was strategic. It would probably serve useful one day.
She thought back on Thanatos and when she’d peeked in on Theron bowing before his master. How small he had looked in comparison. In that moment, Theron wasn’t the big, bad Hades everyone cowered from. He looked like a boy, afraid of getting scolded by a cold, erratic parent.
Who was Thanatos to taunt him anyway? To sit on his throne?
It was strange that the throne room was said to be part of the castle when it had looked detached on the outside. Still, she knew to avoid that area at all costs, so she crept along the paths she was pretty sure she hadn’t taken before, carefully keeping an ear out for any straggling demons or lost souls, or whatever else was down here. As well as that odd, melodic whisper.
She was glad the tunnels were hollow. If anyone stepped a foot—or claw—into a path anywhere near her, she’d hear the echoes long before they found her. Hopefully no one would hear her, either, as she crept along, turn after turn.
After taking too many rights, she met a dead end with nowhere to go but through a grooved entrance of some kind, carved into the wall. She peered over her shoulder at the deep, shadowy labyrinth. There was nowhere else to go but through the gaping hole in the middle of the onyx wall. It looked like the mouth of a beast, whose acid had burnt through the stone and melted the area around it.
Her heart raced. She almost didn’t go for it until she heard that voice again, this time on the other side of that opening. Slowly, she crept through the gaping maw. The air grew thick and even damper than the rest of Hades’ labyrinth. The ceiling leaked something foul onto Corre’s shoulder. She shimmied it off and rushed faster through the cavern.
Darkness shrouded her surroundings, growing thicker with each step, until she spotted a glowing light, green and shimmering like fairies dancing against the cobalt walls. The closer she crept, the more obvious the source of the iridescent light became. It was the glimmer of a pool—a peridot expression gleaming from a thick body of flowing water, starting about eight or ten feet from where the opening expanded into a much larger cave. The length of the river was unknown as it tunneled through the far side of the open cavern, turning sharply behind the back wall of the grotto.
There was something magnetizing about it—the river like liquid jewels or molten candy. She wanted to reach out and touch it. Feel it flow through her fingers.
She heard that voice again—a mesmerizing call from the glowing water.
Corre crouched next to the mouth of the river, peering in as puffs of steam rose from the surface. Green mist poured through the cavern, creating a thick fog between Corre and the water.
She crawled closer. The pull to peer deeper inside was inexplicable. She needed to do it. It physically pained her not to. She waited for the fog to pass long enough to see what lay beyond the strikingly green surface.
A dark shape formed deep beneath the surface. It grew larger and more concrete with each passing second. It swam closer, and that pull to peer inside engulfed Corre’s senses. She reached out to touch it when her name broke through the room like shattering glass.
“Correlia, stop!”
She whipped around to face the voice, but in that same breath, something clutched her wrist and yanked her into the river. The hypnotic appearance of the absinthe water was deceiving. As soon as Corre’s skin touched the liquid, it burned like she was being scalded with boiling oil. She opened her mouth to let out a scream, but her head was completely submerged. The water stung her throat on its way down.
Only one calf was out of the water now, and as that last piece of her started slipping in, a hand grabbed hold of her ankle and started pulling her out. It was like being caught in a current of fire as her body was propelled backward in the water. And even though it was likely only half a second before she was back on dry ground, it felt like she’d burned for eternity. She gasped for breath when her head made it above the surface, but tiny claw-like hands grabbed hold of her wrists again and started pulling her back in.
Her skin bubbled in blistering pain. She wished she could cry to release some of the agony, but her throat was too dry. Whatever the little creatures were, they were no match for the strength of the god who pulled her out. It only took one extra tug for Corre to be unlatched from those tiny claws for good and back onto the ground by the river, far from its alluring surface.
She skittered away from the water, her body shaking violently. Her limbs ached, her head throbbed, and she couldn’t stop herself from pulling at the skin on her face. Dry whimpers escaped her burning throat. Despair encompassed her. What was happening? What was that? Her eyes lost focus as she curled within herself.
“It’s all right,” Theron cooed. His hand brushed against the back of her head and down her damp hair. She looked up at him, still shaking and breathing in little gasps. Her skin was no longer burning, but she felt awful. The liquid in that mystical river seeped deep beneath her skin. She swore she could feel little singes and zaps every few seconds on various parts of her body.
She desperately wanted it to stop.
It was hard to breathe. It was hard to speak. And she couldn’t help the tears that spilled down her face.
“It’s okay,” he assured her again, gathering her into his arms. He scooped her up, one hand beneath her bent knees and the other firmly holding her torso against his chest. Even when her body was raised from the floor and she felt him moving her along through the corridors, she couldn’t speak or stop the shivering. And she couldn’t stop remembering the feeling of those claws sinking into her boiling skin.
Her eyes were closed when he placed her in his bed, his arms wrapped tightly around her, but even wrapped up in him and a shield of blankets, she couldn’t stop the violent shaking or the sobs now pouring out of her. She couldn’t even make out the comforting words he whispered in her ears. All she could hear were cries. Wailing. Screaming. And they weren’t hers.
She curled her body in tighter, burying her hands in her ears, and squeezed her eyes shut.
Please. Stop.
Her mind whirred. It felt like tiny twigs were splintering throughout her body, each nerve fraying and snapping apart. The sounds intensified—louder, faster, more chaotic—until a warmth spread along her back, and a hand cupped her cheek.
Finally, her eyes peeled open, revealing Theron looking down at her, and it took her a second to realize he was shushing her softly. He grabbed her shaking palm and pressed it to his chest. “Focus on the beating. Count each one. Keep your mind focused.”
She nodded unsteadily, her neck aching, and fixed her eyes on her hand splayed on the black cloth of his tunic. She tried to even her breaths as she felt each thump of his heart. It worked for a second, but then the screams broke through again. Her hand started to slip, but he caught it and held it against his chest, this time keeping it secured there.
“I can’t,” she breathed, barely able to hear her own voice.
“Yes, you can. Focus on my eyes.”
She looked up at his concerned stare, at the chocolate color of his eyes, but the voices were too loud. She tried to mouth something but couldn’t find the words to speak.
His frown deepened, and he looked around the room. “Find five things and describe them to me—their color, how they feel—and if that doesn’t help, keep naming things until it does.”
She floundered until she found her voice. “Th-There’s a black wardrobe. I-it’s made of some kind of stone.”
“Good. What else?”
“Um, a chest. A chair. A—” Pain split through the side of her head. She reached to grab it, and her vision blurred. Panic flooded her until his skin brushed against hers and he gently moved her fingers back to his chest.
“And beyond the door?”
She stared up at him, exhaling slowly and feeling his heart thump against her hand. She looked to the door straight back from the foot of the bed. “Towels,” she said. “A fountain.”
He used his other hand to gently stroke the side of her face before placing his forehead on hers. “Breathe,” he said, and she did. She hadn’t realized she’d stopped. She let her eyes close as she listened to his breath. “Everything is okay.” His voice rolled through her ears, warming her shivering body.
Calm slowly washed through her, and when her trembling finally ceased, the voices and wails gone, all she could feel were the tears stinging her eyes. “What was that?” she whispered.
“The souls of the damned. You went down the wrong corridor.” He sighed. “Why did you leave the room?” His voice wasn’t accusatory. It was soft.
He had the same look in his eyes that she’d often seen in her mother’s—distressed concern. She scooted herself up in the bed and rested against the headboard. “I don’t know. I just needed to get out of here. If that makes sense.”
“Well, yeah. The Underworld isn’t a place for someone like you.”
She didn’t have the energy to toss him a scowl. “No. Not Tartarus. I just . . . I needed to get out of this room. Out of my head.”
There was a pause before he gave a brief nod and placed his back against the headboard next to her. His fingers fidgeted with his gloves. “I understand that impulse.” His eyes were focused on his gloves as he took them off, but Corre had a feeling he just didn’t know where else to look, until he finally turned to look at her. “What do you need to get out of your head for? Your life is so easy.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “ Easy? ” She laughed in disbelief. “Are you serious?”
“Explain it to me, since I clearly don’t know.”
She sighed. “I’m sorry, but you can’t assume things about me, okay? I know my life isn’t as hard as yours, but I’ve still got things I don’t want to deal with.”
“I guess I shouldn’t have said that,” he said, as if processing the rules of social etiquette. She glanced up at him and studied his frowning profile. Maybe she shouldn’t be so adamant about her life not being easy. Because, truthfully, it did seem that way, at least when she thought about his. About the torture he went through daily. The lack of love in his life.
“No,” she finally said, “You should have. You’re right. I have nothing to complain about.”
“That’s not what I said—”
“It’s true, though. My life isn’t hard.”
“I . . .” He looked down at his hands again. “I don’t know what your life is like, but I know it can’t be as easy as I think if you’re struggling so much. If you wanted to run to the Underworld.”
His eyes flickered back to hers, and something about the softness inside them made her stomach flip. She had to look away. “It’s not really something that’s hard right now. I’m having a hard time with something that happened a long time ago. Something I don’t understand.”
“What is it?”
She thought about the song and the way it felt engrained in her bones. A haunting siren song, pulling at her lungs and clawing at her mind. “A song.”
“A song?”
She nodded. “I remember a song. It feels both good and bad when I think about it. I’d forgotten it existed until recently, and now I can’t get it out of my head. And I hate it. I don’t know why, but I hate it.” Her hands curled in her lap.
“I have something like that, too.”
Corre looked up. “You do?”
Theron’s expression twisted, his gaze cast to the wall. “But I know what it was. It was a day I can’t forget. No matter how much I’ve tried to rip it from my mind.”
“What happened?”
“It doesn’t matter. Plus, it was for my good. It helped shape me.”
She could tell by the shadowed look cast across his face that he didn’t believe his words. “Did Thanatos tell you that?”
He shot her a look. “Tell me what?”
She gathered her words carefully. “You . . . I don’t think you should believe everything he tells you. He spouts nonsense to—”
He rolled his eyes. “Are you really still on that?”
“Yes! Because someone needs to tell you!”
“Tell me what ?”
“That you deserve better than this!”
He stared at her in frustration, the muscles in his jaw clenching and unclenching.
Corre lowered her voice. “You deserve an easier life. One without so much pain. So many scars.” She lifted her hand to his neck, where the tip of one of his past wounds poked out of his shirt.
He shrugged her hand away. “You don’t understand.”
She glowered. “The only thing I don’t understand is why you don’t want to believe me. Why you don’t want a better life.”
“Of course I want a better life!” he shouted, and when he met her gaze again, she could see tears forming in his eyes. He swallowed hard, his jaw setting and tightening again.
“Then do something to make it happen,” she said gently, but he shook his head and refused to look at her. She thought that might be the end of the conversation, but then he spoke again.
“How do you propose I do that?” he muttered.
She tried thinking of a reasonable answer, but there wasn’t one. She couldn’t think of any solution, which she realized might have been why he felt so trapped. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know,” he said through clenched teeth. “All I can do is keep trying to take the throne. That’s all. Then, when I’m finally crowned the ruler here, I’ll be able to do whatever I want. I’ll be free.”
Something in his voice still lacked conviction. She wished she knew why, but the truth of the matter was that she really didn’t know much about Theron—just that he’d been abused for so long and that there was a gentleness in him that no one else had ever cared enough to see. He deserved better than to be torn to shreds every day, hoping that one day he would get a title and a throne that he’d always been told he’d receive.
“You don’t believe me,” he said.
“What? No?”
He chuckled. “Very convincing.” He smiled at her, but there was pain in his eyes. “It’s okay. I don’t know if I believe it either.”
“Do you really want it?” she blurted. “The throne.”
He thought for a moment. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I want.”
Those words were the most honest ones he’d spoken tonight. The way he’d said them reminded her of that last time they’d met near her house. When he’d said he wasn’t sure why he’d come to see her.
The uncertainty in his eyes, the confusion and conflict, reminded her of something else, too.
“I know how you feel,” she said.
He lifted an eyebrow. “You do?”
She nodded, but her gaze fell. How could she express this? She’d never said it out loud. Not even to Phineas.
“I don’t want to be a Great One,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to be. I just want to be Correlia. I don’t want to be forced to plant fields and flowers and trees. I want to live my life. I want to practice fighting and have fun. I can work—I don’t want to not work and be lazy or something. I just . . . I don’t want to be . . . Persephone, Goddess of Life and Nature.”
Saying the words out loud didn’t feel like she’d expected. It didn’t feel wrong. It was relieving . An enormous weight lifted from her shoulders the moment the words left her lips. And when she breathed out in relief, she looked up at Theron and studied his expression, wondering what was going on in that enigmatic mind of his.
“I don’t want to be Hades.” He said it quietly, like it was a scandalous secret, and perhaps it was.
She couldn’t hide her stunned expression. “You don’t?”
“No. I never have. I hate it. All of this. I absolutely hate it, but I have no choice.” His jaw tightened again. “It’s just the way it is. We’re given what we’re supposed to be given. We can’t change our fates.”
“Do you think that’s true?” she asked, but she knew it was a long shot to even wonder if he knew the answer. She’d been sheltered most of her life, but even so, this didn’t seem like the type of question given out at coronations or during training sessions. It was likely one of those answers locked away where only the Titans could find it.
“I don’t know. It doesn’t seem like it. I don’t see how any of us can get out of it. We’re doomed to whatever the Titans declared.”
“There has to be a way we can change our destinies. Maybe we can figure something out. Maybe—”
“Don’t be na?ve.”
“I’m just trying to help.” She glared at him.
His face fell into his hands. “I’m sorry. Let’s drop it. There’s nothing we can do about it. There’s no point dwelling on it.”
“There has to be something,” she said, but now she was the one who lacked conviction. She needed hope, and by the looks of his draped frame, Theron did, too.
“I’ve tried everything,” he said, his voice shaky. He looked into her eyes and repeated, “ Everything .” The word came out ragged, and a tear fell down his face. As soon as it dropped, he sniffed and wiped his cheek, looking away. “You must be hungry,” he said abruptly. “I’ll get you something—”
Corre reached forward and wrapped her arms around him. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I wish I could take your pain away.” After a quiet moment, she leaned back, starting to let go, but he wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her against him even tighter, burying his face in her neck.
Surprise rushed through her, but so did something else. Something like the feeling of butterflies landing on her skin on a warm day. She embraced him more fully, then lifted one of her hands to trail her fingers through his wavy hair, gathering it softly when she reached the ends. “I wish we could choose our fates.”
Gently, his arms loosened, and he pulled back slightly. She did the same, and they locked eyes. As Corre sucked in a breath, Theron took her face in his hands and brought her lips to his. The softness of his kiss melted every bad feeling in her body and released them from her pores. Her brain was dizzy, and her legs were weak.
Her whole body was weak.
She let it fall against him, kissing him back, her arms resting on his shoulders, wrapped around his neck. He pressed into her, and she fell in a foggy wave onto the bed. He planted one more kiss on her mouth before releasing her.
When her eyes opened, she couldn’t believe what had just happened. She sat up and touched a hand to her face. It was warm. Really warm. She looked to Theron, but he was already off the bed and flinging on his cloak.
“I have to train,” he said, but his face was red.
“Okay,” she said as he opened the door.
When he turned to look at her, her stomach fluttered, and she smiled.
The red dusting his cheeks darkened. “I’ll see you soon,” he said, then gently closed the door.
Long after he was gone, she still couldn’t stop smiling.