Page 122 of Where Darkness Bloomed
The air between them thickened, heavy with unspoken truth.
Hades didn’t answer.
“You’ve hidden it from her.” A smile curled in the words, sharp as a scythe. “What her absence does to the earth.”
When he remained silent, she stepped closer.
Her voice dipped into a murmur, soft and intimate. “Are you so terrified, Lord of the Underworld? Do you fear she’ll flee you at the first chance?”
Each word landed like a poisoned arrow striking deep, bleeding fury into his veins. The ground trembled, a low growl rising from the depths. Itbuilt steadily, then burst into a savage roar as the frozen soil split with a thunderous crack.
A jagged fissure tore through the earth, a chasm opening between them.
Demeter flinched, her composure breaking for the briefest moment. She drew herself upright yet yielded a step backward. With a lift of her chin, she regarded the yawning rift at her feet.
“Seems I am not the only one with a temper,” she remarked primly.
Hades turned, stepping forward until he stood at the earth’s broken edge. Shadows clung to him, thick and writhing, the Underworld surging to answer his rage as his eyes found her, black as pitch.
“You have not seen my temper in an age,sister.” His voice was a deadly snarl, rolling through the shattered ground. “But you are sorely tempting me.”
The air throbbed, alive with menace. The cold wind twisted around them, honed to a cutting edge.
Demeter took another step back, her vehemence warring with a flicker of unease. But she found her voice again. “Return my daughter,” she demanded, “or I will unleash my wrath until the River Styx chokes with their souls.”
She leaned forward, eyes furious. “And when you’ve let this world die—every man, every child, every living thing—tell me, Hades...” Her voice dropped as she buried the blade deep. “Do you think she will love you then?”
His face was stone, masking the fury and dread thundering through him. But the blow struck true, slicing into the rawest part of him. That place at the center of him, no longer impenetrable.
Now, there washer.
Demeter knew. And she struck.
Chapter 46
Persephone jolted awake, chest heaving as the dream slipped like water through her fingers.
The dark goddess and her child lingered, etched into her mind, haunting her with whispers of something ancient, inevitable.
Each night, they came. The goddess was always searching, always walking the same shadowed path that led deep into the earth from the seaside cavern.
Persephone grasped at the vanishing fragments, willing them to take shape. But the images dissolved, leaving only frustration and a hollow sense of dread.
Beside her, the bed was cold. The bedchamber lay dark and still, day not yet breaking over the Underworld. For a moment, she lay in bed, marveling that a place without sun could have daybreak and twilight, morning and dusk. Her husband had designed it well.
But now, Hades was nowhere in sight.
Rising, she dressed and made her way through the temple corridors. The halls bore the calm hush of early morning, the air still and quiet.
Seeing no one, she returned to the bedchamber and sank to the plush furs beside the brazier, basking in the warmth and listening to the distant roar of the Styx.
She stared into the low flames, thoughts circling.
Only once since arriving in the Underworld had she awoken without him—when he was called to Olympus. Not before or since.
The bed was still rumpled from sleep, from their last joining and the deep press of their bodies lying close. The scent of him still clung to the linens.
Most mornings, she woke to the heated weight of him against her back,his mouth at her throat, voice still rough with sleep as he murmured her name like a promise. Or she’d awaken to find herself curled against him, his breath drawing deep as he roused awake, shifting her on top of him—moving with her in a lazy, unhurried rhythm before dawn.
