Page 66 of A Touch of Chaos

Galanthis took the lead, disappearing into the dark while Persephone and Ariadne followed, walking side by side, unwinding their thread as they went. A flare of light caught Persephone’s attention, and she looked toward Ariadne, who was holding a luminous stone. She handed one to her.

“It will last longer than the flashlight or a torch,” she said.

The stone almost looked like an opal. The light castwas minimal, not even reaching the ground, but they were no longer in complete darkness. Surprisingly, it eased Persephone’s anxiety.

She did not usually mind the dark. She had come to feel at home within it, but this was different. It did not belong to Hades but to some other entity, and it pressed in on her from all sides, kept at bay by the small, ethereal light she held in her hand.

The farther they walked, the more she could feel it bearing down on her. It was such a tangible weight, she tried summoning her power only to realize she couldn’t. The adamant was already oppressing her abilities.

Galanthis meowed, and Persephone took a step but there was no ground beneath her. She gave a small cry, but then her foot slammed down on a step.

“Fuck,” she breathed, her heart racing as she held the stone out in front of her to find a set of stone stairs descending into a thick darkness. Galanthis’s eye flashed as she looked back at them. It was as if she were sayingI warned you.

Persephone looked at Ariadne, her face partially illuminated by her stone.

“How far down is the labyrinth?” Persephone asked.

“A few more flights,” Ariadne said.

Persephone supposed it was silly to think that once they crossed the threshold, they would be in the labyrinth. She swallowed the panic she felt at the thought of going deeper below ground.This is the way to Hades, she reminded herself, wishing desperately she could feel his presence within this horrid dark, but in these adamant walls, there was nothing save a bitter cold that managed to seep through the layers of clothes Ariadne had supplied her with.

She tried to ignore it, to focus on anything else—navigating the narrow steps through the half dark, the way the thread felt in her hand, almost too thin, like a strand of her own hair—but she never stopped shivering. There was also something about being this far beneath the earth that seemed to require silence. Neither she nor Ariadne spoke. The only sound was their breathing and the scrape of their feet against the rough ground, and both seemed too loud.

Finally, they rounded a corner, and ahead, Persephone could see a strange orange light. It was no better than the stones they carried, but it seemed to illuminate a path, and she knew they’d made it to the start of the labyrinth.

Persephone pocketed the rock and took a step forward.

“Wait!” Ariadne called out, but it was too late. Vines burst from the ground, the branches creaking and groaning as they wove together, tangling the passage in a thicket of thorns.

When it was done, there was silence again, and Persephone sighed.

“As if this wasn’t hard enough,” she said.

“It isn’t fun for him unless there are challenges,” said Ariadne. She glared up into the darkness, as if she knew Theseus was watching.

“Can he hear us?” Persephone asked.

“I’m certain,” Ariadne said. “He will want to hear us scream.”

Hatred twisted in Persephone’s stomach, and she found herself thinking of what her vengeance would look like once Hades was free. She wanted Theseus towatch as his empire unraveled, and she would ensure she was the one pulling the thread.

“Careful of the thorns,” Ariadne said. “The jacket should help, but they are poisonous.”

“What kind of poison?” Persephone asked.

“I don’t know,” said Ariadne. “I just know they sting, and the cuts are slow to heal.”

Persephone didn’t imagine it was possible to escape the tangle unscathed—save for Galanthis, who slipped beneath the branches as if they did not exist. Still, there was only one way to Hades, and that was forward.

Persephone chose an entry point, unraveling the thread a little before crouching and slipping between a set of serrated vines. Within the first pocket, she was able to stand fully, but as she moved into the next, she had to stay low, highly aware of the threat of the thorns, which raised the hair on her arms and the back of her neck.

When she heard a sharp inhale, she swung too quickly, narrowly missing a jab to the side of her head. Through the muted light, she could see Ariadne pressing a hand to her upper arm.

“Are you okay?” Persephone whispered.

“Yeah,” Ariadne said. “Gods, it really does sting.”

Persephone frowned and looked ahead, trying to gauge how much farther they had to go, but she could not tell. The vines were thick and the light too dim.

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