Page 25 of Where Darkness Bloomed
Kept from him.
But now—now she had come to him. The path between them was opened once more, guided by the Fates’ hands.
And he would not let her go.
“I must go.”
Hades turned from the terrace, the edge of his himation catching the breeze. But at the threshold, he paused. “Brother,” he said, without turning back, “you called her Kore?”
Zeus scoffed. “A name Demeter clings to.Maiden.” He shook his head. “Her title is—”
“Persephone.”
Chapter 12
Despite Erato’s warning, Kore returned to the cypress grove.
Then again.
Each time, it drew her back—the hush beneath ancient trees, the stillness that seemed to echo the presence of its absent master. Like a shadowed secret, it beckoned. A wild place untouched by watchful eyes.
A place that reminded her of him.
Lying in the soft grass, she let her thoughts wander where they shouldn’t. His dark eyes. The low, commanding timbre of his voice. Weeks had passed since the solstice. Still, a shiver ghosted down her spine at the memory.
Her heart beat a guilty rhythm against her ribs. The thoughts felt as forbidden as her presence here, beneath the towering cypress trees. Around her, white tulips bloomed, pale petals reaching toward the sun as it dipped low, dusk creeping in. Shadows stretched long across the grass. At any moment, Erato or her mother would come searching.
As she rose from the grass, something caught her eye—a spark of color.
A solitary, jewel-toned bloom was nestled among the shaded roots, its beauty as startling as it was unfamiliar. Soft petals were drenched in twilight hues, dew clinging daintily like tiny stars.
It hadn’t been there before. As she watched, it unfurled, petals opening slowly beneath her gaze.
Kore knelt, wonder stirring. Her fingertips brushed gently over the petals, and for the faintest moment, she thought she felt the eyes of another watching. Waiting. A presence both familiar and formidable.
Her gaze swept the grove, almost expecting to find someone. But there was no one. Only the still sanctuary of solemn trees. She looked down again. Then, with a soft snap, she broke the stem.
For a breath, the flower lay cradled in her palm.
Then—a ripple passed over the trees. It was gentle at first, trembling. From the forest’s edge, shadows crept forward, coiling toward her. Her breath caught, fear rising swiftly, but they only brushed against her ankles, whispering faintly.
A deep groan rose in the air, low and primal, and the ground shuddered beneath her. She stilled, pressing a hand to the earth. Another tremor rolled beneath her palm, deeper, more insistent. Like something waking from below.
Unease coiled through her, and she stood abruptly. The air felt different. Thick, expectant.
The earth roared awake.
With a thunderous crack, the ground split wide. A jagged fissure tore across the moss-covered earth at her feet. She stumbled back, eyes wide, as the trees groaned, their roots wrenching.
A terrible noise pierced the air—high, savage screams.
Horses.
From the dark depths, four horses erupted. They were enormous, black as pitch, dark smoke spewing from flared nostrils. Their eyes burned black as starlit midnight, flecked with silver, and heavy hooves struck the air. Behind them, a chariot of dark gold surged up from the earth.
At its helm stood a figure—tall, commanding, clad in armor as black as night. His black-crested helmet gleamed, obscuring his face. Through the angular slits, dark eyes found her with a ferocity that stole her breath.
He shouted a command to the horses, the sound lost beneath the earth’s thunder.
