Page 60 of Hades and Persephone: Crown of Souls

Somehow, I manage a whimper. Hades touches my hand with his, the tip of his finger is a warmth to fight the frost that slowly crawls inside me.

“You can leave.”He wants me to leave.

I shake my head. It’s choppy, stilted, fractured—but I’m not leaving. I wouldn’t even if I thought I could.

“He is dangerous, little goddess.”

“I—” I manage through chattering teeth. The frost is crawling along the walls now, creeping over the floor. Can Hades see it? He seems so unperturbed. So blasé. I force the word past the fear in my throat. “Know.”

I think he’s going to try and convince me to leave, but to my relief, he doesn’t. He says nothing else, but his hand grips mine tightly as Hecate begins to move again, pushing her palm through the swirl of sentient paint andintothe canvas. Her second hand joins, shoving into the painting to the elbow. There is strain in her body, as though she shoves against something within the painting—something that very well may be stronger than her.

Fear leaps in my heart before dropping stones of dread in my belly.

If that thing she fights is stronger than her, what happens to us? To the world?

“Hades?” His name is a scream in my mind that sounds now as little more than a whisper. He does not respond verbally, but offers me instead, a squeeze of his hand.

This can’t possibly be normal, right?

I mean, of course, this isn’t normal! This is insane. Bad.

If the last few weeks hadn’t happened, I’d check myself into a mental hospital and sign on the dotted line to throw away the key.

This. Is. Crazy.

And yet…

Hecate’s voice rises and she throws her body into her—what? Spell?

With a lurch—she’s gone. The whirling of the paint into that galaxy of torment snaps back into place as though it never moved at all.

“Hecate!” I shriek, suddenly able to move and darting for the canvas. My palm connects with the surface. Other than being impossibly cold, it is solid.

Hades’ hands land on my hips. “She will be fine.”

I whip to face him. “What do you mean? It—it ate her.”

I can’t even with this shit right now. I’m a reader. I’ve read books about kickass heroines capable of doing kickass things, because it’s therightthing to do. Excelling in battle even though they never fought a day in their lives, because it was what they were born to do.

This is not me.

I am not so lucky.

I am not that heroine.

Because right now, I’m a trembling mess. I’ve never known fear like I know it now. Never felt so weak as I feel right now. As I stand helplessly on the wrong side of a painting while a Goddess who, I think might be my friend, is battling a Primordial God becauseI want to speak to him.

“Persephone.” Hades’ hands move from my hips to my shoulders. “Breathe.” I suck in breath. “Now release.” His grin hitches on the command. He thinks I forgot how to breathe.

Perhaps I did.

I release the breath. “What is she doing?”

“She is containing the soul of Uranus.”

“Wh—what?”

“He is without flesh or form. When I defeated him, bringing him to Tartarus with the other Titans, the Crown of Souls decreed he be stripped of flesh and form, that he may never again possess the power of his Gods Form. All that remains of him is his immortal soul.”

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