Page 36 of Where Darkness Bloomed
Chapter 17
Hours crawled by as Kore paced the bedchamber.
On the divan by the hearth, a folded chiton waited, its fabric rich and smooth, dyed the color of a fathomless sea.
At last, she let his himation fall from her shoulders. The air brushed cool against her skin as she reached for the garment and drew it around her.
We wed in two days.
His words echoed through her like the toll of a distant bell.
She stood near the crackling hearth, trying to steady the frantic beat of her pulse. But a knot of dread rooted deep in her chest, coiled tight and unmoving. No breath could ease it. No thought could reach it.
She could not stay here—could not remain cloistered in this chamber while time unraveled around her, slipping through her fingers like threads of silk.
Steeling herself, she stepped to the door. She pressed her ear to the cool marble, listening.
Silence.
The corridor beyond was empty. Its long passage stretched, opening into a vast atrium of dark columns at the temple’s heart. Above, the ceiling soared into shadows, so high it seemed the heavens themselves had been carved away.
She tread slowly, bare feet whispering against the stone of the atrium. As she passed the throne room, she hesitated, then glanced inside.
Empty.
A hush clung to the air—heavy and watchful. At the far end, the great onyx throne loomed on its dais. Even unoccupied, it commanded the hall, echoing the dominion of its master.
Beyond the atrium’s columns, something green caught her eye. On the air, the scent of earth rose—of things alive, of life growing.
Her heart stuttered.
A garden.
Outside, cool air rushed to meet her. As she descended the temple steps, a garden unfolded around her. A sanctuary cradled deep within the Underworld, encircling the temple.
Lush grass blanketed the ground beneath her feet. Flowering plants shimmered with delicate, silver light, as though grown from moonlight rather than sun. In shadowed corners, deep-blue poppies swayed gently, their petals brushing the heavy roots of ancient trees that arched overhead, branches rustling in a soft wind that stirred the air.
At the garden’s heart, one tree stood apart. It was taller, older than the others, rising in sprawling majesty, its gnarled limbs sweeping high in solemn grandeur. Crimson fruit hung from its boughs—ripe and unfamiliar.
Kore slowed, her gaze tracing the great tree that loomed over her head. Quiet but persistent, a thread of disquiet tugged at her.
She lingered only a moment before continuing on.
Ahead, a stone landing was perched high above the Styx, overlooking the river’s furious descent. Dark waters crashed in wild rapids, white spray rising in curling plumes. The air was sharper, crisp and cool, laced with the scents of damp stone and the lush greenery at her back.
Kore crept forward, steadying herself with a hand against the stone ledge as she peered over the landing’s edge. Below, the river plummeted in a dizzying drop, the roar of the waterfall rising to meet her.
Her eyes rose.
Beyond the cliffs and the river, jagged mountains rose like ancient, solemn sentinels, peaks cloaked in mist, cutting her off from what lay beyond—
Rolling grasslands. Soft green hills. Just like the world to which she belonged.
Her chest tightened at the sight, caught between awe and unease, as she surveyed the vast, wild landscape.
The Underworld, it seemed, was endless.
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