Page 57 of Hades and Persephone: Crown of Souls

I am not sure if it is her power, or that of Chaos. Or even the power of Aether that I’d seen swirling bright on the scans Hermes had shown.

Her soul is a custodian of ancient power, and such relics are never safe.

“What is that, over there?” I follow the finger she points out to the sea, and the island that stands apart from all else.

There is no land that connects it to the rest of the Underworld, although there is a narrow mountain pass large enough for Cerberus to travel with the very rare souls who earnthemselves such passage after entering the Acheron, though the rest of the way must be done by ferry. It is an entirely self-sufficient isle.

“It is the Isle of the Blessed.”

The intake of her breath is hitched. It reminds me of the sound she makes when I first invade her body with my own. It is the sweetest sound, and my response, even now, is undeniably physical.

The way that I crave this woman—this goddess—it is not natural.

“Like The Elysian Fields?”

“No. The Isle of the Blessed is for the purest souls.”

“Oh,” she breathes, her eyes dancing over the waters that separate the beach from the isle. “The souls who are clean of sin?”

“No.” She looks at me this time. At the wrinkle between her brows, I explain, “All souls sin in the Living Realm. It is too easy to fall to sins simply by living life.”

“Then how are they considered pure.”

I don’t tell her that her confusion now stems from her religious upbringing. Or that her views on the relationship with sin and the afterlife have been engraved into the foundations of her very thought process by that upbringing.

Instead, I tell her, “The Isle of the Blessed came after the Underworld formed. Think of it like a diamond, if you will. It is a beauty that is formed under extreme pressure, like those who inhabit it. It is rare, but there are souls who enter the Underworld who are wrought with agony from their time in the Living Realm. These souls are delicate, sensitive souls, much like your own, Persephone.”

“I’m not delicate and sensitive, Hades.”

My laugh is short and quiet. “Your delicate and sensitive soul does not make you weak, little goddess. Quite the opposite.” Shedoesn’t look convinced. “You felt their pain upon their arrival, and upon their entrance into the Cities of the Underworld. They were—discontent with their afterlife, plagued by their time in the Living Realm, and in general, unable to integrate within the societies of the Underworld. And it wasn’t long after that the Isle rose from the sea.”

“Okay…”

I smile at her impatience. “The Isle of the Blessed houses the souls of the highly empathic. They are tender souls, sponges for the emotions and pains of others. It is not simply their traumas they suffer and cling to, but the traumas of all whom they encounter. Living was torture for them. Isolation is their reprieve now as it was in the Living Realm. Many of these souls were so plagued by their earthly overload, that they ended their own lives.”

She gasps, “Is it punishment, then? The Isle?”

Again, she is confused by her upbringing. “No. Of course, not. It is reprieve. It is where their souls can heal. I do not travel there out of respect for them, but you used to visit often.” I dislike admitting this, but I resent the idea of lying to her. “Poseidon used to take you there often. The souls found great comfort in the peace you offered.”

“Poseidon?”

“You were very close friends.”

Distaste pinches her expression and I feel my eyes narrow before they snap wide at her hot declaration. “I never slept with him. I asked, and he told me we didn’t. I believe him.”

The haughty way she holds her jaw, I can’t help but ask, “Do you recall having partners, Persephone?”

The question burns like acid on my tongue.

She rolls her lips and denies me my answer as she asks one of her own. “Why don’t they find peace in your presence?”

“I do not naturally carry a peaceful presence.”

“I disagree. I’ve never felt so peaceful as I do with you.”

“Nonetheless,” I say firmly. “There is a—darkerpart of me these souls find naturally abhorrent, and I respect them enough to keep my distance.”

She tips her head to the side. “Tell me about that darker part of you.”

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