Page 99 of Where Darkness Bloomed
Atropos’s face was serene, pitiless, as she lowered her hand. “It is certain,” she said, her voice like a death knell. “The city will fall.”
Heat hissed viciously as it warped the air, steaming around Apollo, whose gold eyes blazed with rage. His mouth opened, words of protest rising inhim—
An earth-shaking crack of thunder ripped across Olympus. A command for silence.
Zeus’s eyes were white with lightning. The air sparked, awaiting his command. “The Fates have spoken,” he thundered. “Those who defy their will court a punishment to rival Prometheus’s.”
Hades’s brow arched.
It was no small threat. Prometheus was chained to a jagged boulder, forced to endure as an eagle tore into his flesh each day. A living monument to Zeus’s creative wrath.
Apollo paused. Then reluctantly, he regained his seat.
Zeus’s gaze swept the chamber, eyes narrowed. “This council is dismissed—”
“My lord Zeus.”
A different voice cut through the storm’s rumble, and Demeter rose from her throne.
Her face was pallid and drawn, shadows pooling in her eyes. “I care nothing for mortal wars,” she said tightly. “I come on a matter of greater urgency.”
Zeus’s eyes slid sideways, flicking swiftly toward Hades as he settled once more onto his throne. A silent forewarning.
Hades sat still. Waiting.
Demeter’s robes, golden as autumn wheat, rustled as she stepped to the center of the dais. Her red-rimmed gaze fixed on Zeus.
“Our daughter is missing.”
Her voice cracked, but she pressed on. “I have scoured the earth. Fields, mountains, and valleys. The nymphs search every river and glade. There is no trace of her.”
A breath passed, then Hades rose. “Persephone is in the Underworld.”
Demeter’s head whipped toward him. For an instant, raw relief flickered in her eyes, then suspicion swiftly drowned it. Her voice turned cold, razor-edged. “Why is my daughter in the Underworld?”
The chamber seemed to inhale. Zeus leaned back slowly, his face hardening. Bracing.
Hades held Demeter’s icy gaze. “She dwells in the Underworld as its queen. And my wife.”
The hall fell into silence, stunned. There was a sharp intake of breath—Artemis. The goblet in Poseidon’s hand halted just short of his lips, forgottenin his grasp. Aphrodite’s brows arched high, curiosity igniting in her gaze, and even Ares, war-hardened and brooding, momentarily lost his scowl.
But Demeter did not falter. She drew in a single, ragged breath—and exhaled rage. Fury bled into every stone line of her face.
“Nonsense.”
The word was pure venom.
“She is no one’s wife. She is promised to the virgin path to remain—” The words died as Demeter’s gaze cut swiftly toward Zeus. “She isyourdaughter. Surely, you will defend her.”
Zeus met her anger with iron. “As her sire,” he replied, voice heavy with authority, “I granted Persephone in marriage to Hades.”
Betrayal shattered across Demeter’s face for one cold, clear moment. Then, she dropped to the marble floor.
Her knees struck the dais with the force of an earthquake breaking. A wail tore from her chest, raw and keening. It rose on the air, tearing through the hall like stormwind.
“Enough,” Zeus commanded, his voice cracking like a whip. “It is done.”
Tears streamed from Demeter’s wild eyes as she lifted her face to him. “Undo it!” she screamed, clutching her robes with shaking hands. “Annul the marriage and return her to me!”
