Page 14 of A Touch of Chaos

Hades could feel the grit in the air, and a musty smell filled his senses, seeping into the back of his throat, making it even harder to breathe beneath the net.

“Yours?” Hades countered. “It looks like Hephaestus’s work and smells like Demeter’s magic.”

“What is technology but the evolution of what already exists?” said Theseus.

“I didn’t know you were a scholar,” Hades muttered. He would have spoken louder, but the tone of his voice correlated with how badly his lungs hurt, and he preferred to save his strength.

“There is a lot you do not know about me, Uncle.”

Hades cringed at the use of the familial title, thoughhe knew Theseus only used it to mock him. He felt no bond to the demigod, not an ounce of affection, but Hades said nothing and instead focused on his surroundings.

They were in a long corridor, and Hades could only see a few feet in front of him either way he looked. A cloudy orange light hung like mist in the air, creating pockets of darkness. The floor was sandy, and the walls were made of smooth stones, stacked high into the dark above. What he was most aware of, however, was the cold. He was familiar with the way it clung to his skin and seeped to the bone.

He was in the labyrinth where he had fought the Minotaur.

“Daedalus was a genius, no?” Theseus commented.

“He was a man who made himself useful,” Hades said, following Theseus at a distance.

Certainly at the time, Daedalus was considered one of the most brilliant inventors of his age. He had been commissioned by King Minos to build this labyrinth as a prison for the Minotaur, a half-bull, half-human creature Minos’s wife, Pasiphaë, had birthed. A creature that only existed because he had also built the wooden cow that allowed her to mate with a bull she had been cursed to lust after by Poseidon.

“He saw opportunity,” said Theseus. “Even you must respect that.”

“I do not have to respect it,” Hades said.

Daedalus was a narcissist and had attempted to murder his own nephew when it was evident that his genius threatened his own.

Theseus chuckled. “Oh, Hades, I shudder to learn what you think of me.”

“You know what I think of you,” Hades said.

The demigod did not respond, and Hades was glad for the quiet. He hated talking anyway, but right now, it was exhausting. As he followed Theseus, he flexed his hands and realized he had movement in his arms. The net, which lay heavily against his chest, back, and stomach, did not seem to restrict his arms, and while he knew the net was impossible to escape without help, he still tried.

Theseus chuckled, though when Hades looked up, the demigod was still facing forward, moving down the corridors of the labyrinth with ease.

“You will only exhaust yourself trying to remove it,” said Theseus. “Might as well save your strength. You will need it.”

Hades glared at the back of Theseus’s head, imagining what it would be like to smash it with a stone.

After Tyche’s death, Hades had gone to Hephaestus to learn more about his creation, knowing that the net posed a great threat to the gods given its ability to immobilize and suffocate their power. Hades had asked the God of Fire to forge a weapon to cut it, but he’d not been able to obtain that weapon before he’d been captured.

It angered him that he’d fallen into such a trap. He had not had a second thought when he’d gone in search of Persephone, in search of the ring Theseus now kept in his possession. He tried to sense it, the familiar energies of the stones he’d chosen to represent her and their future together, but all he felt was the cold of the labyrinth, which became even more disorienting the longer they were within it, alternating between walkingfor long stretches and a series of sharp turns down shorter pathways.

Hades wondered what guided Theseus through the maze. He walked with purpose, twisting and turning through the many and varied corridors. It was possible he had memorized the route—he was certainly psychotic enough.

Finally they came to a part of the maze that was in ruins, the walls broken and crumbled from age.

“Part of the original labyrinth,” said Theseus. Even in disrepair, the greatness of it was evident. “I had every intention of finishing it before you arrived, but as it is, I think it is far more fitting that you complete the prison in which you have been trapped.”

Hades’s gaze slid to the demigod.

“How do you propose I do that?” Hades asked.

“I have provided all the tools,” Theseus said.

Hades stared. He knew the demigod was willfully ignoring the obvious—the net draped over his body made him weak.

“And you wish for me to do this, why?” Hades asked. “So you can watch?”

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