Page 25 of Hades

She clenched her fists and set her jaw as an urge to scream and rage swept through her like a hurricane, refusing to surrender to it. Vile hatred filled every inch of her, darkening her heart—a heart that ached. She strode to the door and tugged at it, unsurprised when it didn’t budge but refusing to give in. She couldn’t be here. She wouldn’t stay here.

She clawed at the metal panel, digging at the edges of it until her fingers bled, and then she flew to the narrow window and reached out of it, summoning a vine. Nothing happened. She sank to her knees and pressed her hands to the wooden floor, focused as hard as she could on connecting with the earth. Still nothing.

Persephone pushed to her feet, breathing hard. She couldn’t be here. Not because she was afraid of what they might do to her, or that the enemy would force her to do something, but because she knew how deeply this would affect Hades.

She staggered a step and then fell to her knees again and pressed both palms against the wood, her ankle-length black nightgown pooling around her. She reached for him, desperate to feel him and let him know that she was fine and she wouldn’t let them break her. She was strong. Whatever they tried to do to her, she would withstand it.

Only she couldn’t reach him.

She couldn’t sense anything—feel anything—beyond the room she was in.

She couldn’t even feel her connection to nature.

There was a void inside her where it should have been, a space that was raw, as if her power had been ripped from her.

“It worked.” An unfamiliar female voice laced with surprise cut through her thoughts, cleaving them in two and dragging her back to her cell.

An all too familiar one answered it. “Of course it worked.”

Persephone glared over her shoulder at the owner of it.

“Mnemosyne,” she hissed and shoved to her feet, a rage blacker than what Hades was capable of swirling inside her, a tempest that had her staring the titaness down and ready to hurl herself at her to fight her.

If she couldn’t use her power over nature, she would use her fists to defeat the wretched goddess.

A goddess of memories.

That was why she had dreamed of the day she had met Hades. Mnemosyne had lured that memory to the surface for her to relive. Why?

She looked back over her shoulder at the ocean. The mortal world. The dream had brought her here, something which should be impossible.

Unless.

She faced Mnemosyne again. “Is the god of dreams in league with you?”

She touched her forehead and wasn’t surprised when she felt something crusty there. It flaked on her fingertips, and she brought her hand down and looked at them. Blood.

Morpheus had been a part of this abduction.

But had he known what he was doing?

“Of course,” Mnemosyne replied coolly. “I gave him the memory and he used his power to plant the dream in your mind. As soon as it took root, you moved towards this point, drawn here so you could relive the memory and experience it as if it was happening in the present.”

“The gate is sealed. Did you capture me on the other side or as soon as I was far away enough from the palace?” Persephone stared at the wall behind Mnemosyne, sure that the gate was nearby.

Mnemosyne smiled slowly. “Neither. Morpheus was kind enough to ensure you would be transported here to fulfil your desire to relive the memory if you hit any obstacle. You came all the way to us and walked right into our hands.”

Persephone wasn’t convinced. She knew Morpheus. He was a good male. An honourable one. He had served Hades well in all the years she had known him. She doubted he would be involved in a plot against her husband. Last she recalled, Morpheus had been sleeping, seeking information from an ancient being’s dreams, and had been like it for years, long before Mnemosyne had begun her war against the Underworld.

Which all made her feel that Mnemosyne had tricked him into helping her.

If what he had done had transported Persephone from one side of the closed gate to the other, Morpheus probably hadn’t known it would happen. Mnemosyne must have added something else to the water that contained the memory, triggering his power to move the dreamer physically through the dream without his knowledge.

She hoped.

If Morpheus had betrayed Hades, it would be a terrible blow to the twins, Thanatos and Hypnos. Thanatos already felt responsible for so much that had happened that his nephew turning against Hades might be the last straw for him, and Hypnos would want to atone in his son’s name and was likely to fall deep into despair.

She peered deep into Mnemosyne’s mirrored eyes to seek out whether she was telling her the truth and saw a flicker of desperation in them.

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