Page 190 of A Touch of Chaos

Hephaestus offered a single nod. “Yes, my lady.”

She let that sink in—the idea that thousands of mortals would be armed with weapons that could harm gods.

“Is that…a good idea?” she asked, though she imagined he and Hades had already had this discussion, weighed all the pros and cons. Still, it felt terribly frightening and horribly wrong.

“Theseus’s followers will be armed with the same. Hydra venom deals a quick death to mortals. It would be a far more devastating fight for us without them.”

She let that sink in before asking, “Where are our weapons?”

Hephaestus glanced at Aphrodite as he spoke, “I have entrusted your weapons to Hades for safekeeping.”

“Of course,” said Aphrodite. “Because obviously she is not capable and may impale herself.”

As much as she understood Aphrodite’s frustration, Persephone did not feel it was warranted here. She met Hephaestus’s gaze and offered a small smile, and for a moment, she could see the exhaustion in his face.

Her heart hurt for him.

“The weapons are poisoned with Hydra venom,” said Hephaestus. “I only wish to keep you safe.”

“I understand,” said Persephone quickly before they could spiral into a fight. “We have seen the damage Hydra venom can do. I have no wish to harmmyself or others. In truth, I hope we never have to use them.”

When Persephone left the suites, she felt like she was carrying the weight of the thousands of weapons piled into the rooms behind her. Each one was a person, a soul, and she felt responsible for them all.

As she emerged from the lounge, there was a quiet roar from downstairs. People had already begun to arrive.

“The air smells like fear,” said Euryale, who stood guard at the doors of the lounge.

Persephone looked at the gorgon who was always dressed in white and blindfolded.

“New Athens is under siege,” said Persephone. “We are all afraid.”

“Even you, Lady Persephone?” Euryale asked.

“Can you not sense it?”

“Grief smells a lot like fear,” she said.

“Perhaps I grieve too,” said Persephone.

She walked to the top of the stairs to look out over the floor. It was strange to see Hades’s club transform from something secretive and sinful to a sanctuary for survival. Normally, it was crowded with the young or the desperate, not families. Men, women, and children huddled together while others paced, unable to sit still. A few children zipped through the crowd with glee, blissfully unaware of why and where they were, though most did look afraid.

It was the first time Persephone had witnessed Theseus’s impact on the mortal world, and these people were haunted. It occurred to her how this must feel to the Faithful—to the pious worshippers who said their prayers and made their sacrifices, who decorated altars and loved their gods. She had lost her friends, but theyhad lost their gods, and it felt like the very threads of their world were being torn apart.

Right now, they had no future.

A shriek brought her attention back to the floor below. More children had joined the game of chase, and another group arrived from the tunnels. This one was led by Hermes.

Persephone descended the stairs, making her way toward the god. As she did, one of the children who was running rammed into her. She placed a steadying hand on their shoulder.

“Oh,” she said and then knelt before the child. He was about four, if she had to guess, with wide, brown eyes and curly hair. “Are you okay?”

“Do not touch him, Goddess of Death!” a woman bellowed, wrenching the child away.

Persephone blanched, shocked by the woman’s reaction and words.

“You would do well to respect the Queen of the Dead within her home,” said Hermes, helping Persephone to her feet.

“Cora, stop!” A man joined the fray.

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