Page 44 of Hades

Not the guards, Persephone realised as a young woman dressed in modern mortal clothing with a wild lilac bob stepped through the door behind Mnemosyne, her dark eyes fixing on Persephone. Around her, the walls seemed to vibrate, the stones shimmering as if in a heat haze, and then they fell away and the familiar black lands of the Underworld came into being.

No.

Persephone steeled herself and narrowed her gaze on the new female.

A daemon.

One born of Mnemosyne’s womb.

A vile spawn capable of using memories and their associated emotions to construct illusions so powerful that they felt real to the target of them.

Persephone cast a desperate look at the man who bore the mark of the palace guard as he released her and the two of them stepped away, but he refused to look at her. The buildings constructing around her swallowed him from view, leaving her alone even when she knew she wasn’t really by herself.

Mnemosyne and the illusionist were still there, one fuelling this false reality while the other watched and took pleasure from Persephone’s suffering.

She couldn’t see the titaness, but she could hear her.

“First, though, you will pay.”

Those ominous words echoed in the familiar temples as the towering statue of Hades appeared before her, dressed in full regalia and gripping his bident.

And then the first screams rang out.

Chapter 13

He stalked the black lands, his pointed ears twitching at the slightest sound and crimson cloak swirling around his ankles, mirroring the colour of the blazing sky. His lips peeled back off his fangs in a sneer when he tuned into a guard’s muttered comments to his comrade.

“Look at him.”

The words were faint, spoken low enough that a lesser being might not have heard them across the vast distance between Hades and the black Grecian temple where the male stood guard.

Hades heard them as if they had been whispered in his ear.

His black claws curled, slicing through the thick, warm air that bathed the exposed skin of his hands. He wasn’t sure when he had torn his gauntlets away, or where they were now. He had lost other items of his armour too. His breastplate. He did recall ripping that away from him in the secret realm when he had gone to retrieve Cerberus. He hadn’t been able to breathe. The black metal had felt as if it had been crushing his lungs, far too restrictive. He had desperately needed to breathe. So he had discarded the chest piece, wrenching it away and hurling it across the grass.

Perhaps his gauntlets had followed.

They had become too restrictive too, irritating him as his claws kept striking their tips. He had no need of the talons when his own were out, ready to shred and rip flesh. He flexed them again, turning his dark gaze on the soldier who had uttered the comment about him. His eyes locked with the male’s comrade, who was swift to look away.

Hades stalked towards them, frustration keeping his blood at a steady boil and inaction driving him mad with a need to do something.

Ripping apart the guard who had dared to remark upon his current appearance seemed like a pleasing place to start.

His mind filled with images of gutting the male where he stood, claws slicing through his clothing to rend his flesh, cutting him to ribbons.

So he could watch him bleed.

Watch despair and horror dance across his face.

Watch the last light flicker in his eyes.

And then die.

Something snagged his legs and his cloak, and he growled as the red fabric caught on it. On another low, rumbling snarl, Hades attacked the clasps of his cloak, destroying first the left and then the right, freeing himself of the snare. He looked back at what had stopped him and froze.

His heart drummed rapidly against his chest.

His black eyes slowly widened.

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