Page 44 of Shattered & Returned

The witchlights’ blue glow danced across the open grimoire on my desk, making the ancient text swim before my tired eyes.

“I still can’t believe what you did today.”Sindy’s voice held equal parts awe and apprehension. She sat cross-legged on her bed, nighttime rituals complete—heavy makeup removed, auburn hair twisted into a bun secured by her wand.“You demolished Angelina Wood. She’s got more divine blood in her pinky than most students have in their entire lineage.”

I allowed myself a small smile before cold dread settled in my gut.“Will she come back? Is that allowed? I might not get lucky next time.”I trailed off, fingers tightening around my quill.

“That wasn’t luck.”Sindy leaned forward, her gaze startlingly intense, an expression I’d never seen directed at me before.“You moved like nothing I’ve ever seen. One moment playing meek, the next”—she made a slashing motion—“the wind given form.”

“A Wind Weaver who can barely summon a breeze without…”I snorted. Heat flooded my cheeks as Ravencrux’smethodsflashed through my mind—his low voice promising how muchstrongerI’d become with more…stimulation.

I turned a page with more force than necessary.

I forced my focus back to the grimoire, shoving thoughts of Ravencrux aside. Sindy reached into her nightstand, murmuring an incantation. A heavy tome floated toward me, landing with a soft thud on my desk.

“The forbidden edition,”she said with a conspiratorial smirk.“Courtesy of my connections.”

“Where did you?—?”

“Trade secret.”She grinned slyly.“Start with theHistory of the Godssection. Bloodlines dictate everything here—who matters, who doesn’t.”

I ran my fingers along the gilded pages, the leather warm as living skin.“So it’s true that we’re all descendants of gods?”

“Diluted, but yes.”She sipped her chamomile tea.“Some more than others. Hence why we’re bottom-feeders, you with your provincial charm, me with my coven misfit status.”

“We’re first-years,”I countered.“We learn. We adapt. We survive.”

For the first time in my sheltered life, I felt awake. This cutthroat world had rules I didn’t yet grasp, but it had given me something too, a thrill deeper than fear, sharper than pleasure. And Ravencrux…

I shoved the thought away again.

Sindy’s smile was tentative.“For once, I don’t feel alone here.”

Our fists bumped over the ancient text.“Together,”I agreed.

Somehow, this place already felt like a beginning, like I was meant to be here.

My fingers stilled on a striking illustration of a shadowed god offering his hand to a luminous woman wreathed in blossoms.“Hades and Persephone.”

“The original dark romance,”Sindy murmured, settling beside me with her tea.“Nothing like the surface-level myths humans tell.”

“How so?”

She reached for another volume, its leather binding etched with underworld symbols. “The academy library holds deeper truths. We’re their blood. We inherit their stories along with their magic.”She cracked the spine open to reveal illuminated pages.“There are conflicting accounts. The abduction tale is child’s play compared to what really transpired.”

Her voice dropped to a whisper.“This one reveals their marriage contract. The negotiations. The compromises.”

As I took the book, the pages seemed to hum under my touch. The story unfolded like a spell: Demeter’s smothering love, Hades’ ruthless offer of freedom, Persephone’s fury melting into something far more dangerous. Passion. Enemies-to-lovers. Betrayal.

Something in my chest tightened. The parallels prickled at my skin—a dark god who’d rather be feared than misunderstood, a queen torn between her husband and her mother.

“Who betrayed whom?”I exhaled, not sure why I cared so much.

Sindy swirled her tea, the leaves forming strange patterns at the bottom.“Historians still debate. Some claim the endingwas destroyed, deliberately erased from history. Others think it was never written at all.”She nodded toward the shelf.“They’re footnotes compared to Zeus and Poseidon. Hades always gets cast as the villain, the brooding outcast no one understands.”

I snapped the book shut, an inexplicable sorrow swelling in my chest. Their story—forbidden bargain, fiery rebellion, two against the world, love forged in an unlikely place—felt hauntingly familiar. And then…nothing. Lost to time.

“Maybe their ending hasn’t happened yet,”I whispered, unable to explain why it resonated deeply within me.“Or perhaps it’s waiting to be written somewhere.”

Then—

---