Page 135 of Where Darkness Bloomed
Cerberus sank onto his haunches, claws raking into the earth, splintering it apart. His red eyes flicked between the cakes and her.
Another whine.
Persephone exhaled shakily. “Cerberus,” she said again, forcing her voice into a soothing tone.
The leftmost head cocked an ear forward, eyes locking on hers.
She took a slow step forward. Lifting one of the cakes, she offered it to him. “Let me pass.”
A massive tongue, hot and rough, lolled, lapping at the cake. Jaws opened, far too wide, then tugged the cake from her hand with surprising gentleness. He chewed, the sound echoing like distant thunder through the cavern.
Swallowing hard, Persephone moved slowly around the great flank, her heart beating wildly as she stepped toward the end of the passage.
Behind her came a low huff.
She glanced back.
Cerberus sat watching her, one of his heads tilted. The others stared at the remaining cake.
“Eat, Cerberus,” she urged.
With a gusty breath, all three heads dipped. Jaws snapped. The cake vanished in a single, thunderous bite.
She didn’t wait, slipping past the cavern’s edge into the Underworld’s waiting embrace.
The air shifted around her. No longer frigid like the passage, but cool and laced with rich soil, damp stone, and river mist. The steady rush of the Styx rose with the hum of souls long at rest, whispering through the air like a hymn softly sung.
Relief struck, swift and sharp. She knew this place. More importantly, she knew where to go.
It was night here, as it was above—but deeper, more eternal. The hush of nightfall cloaked the Underworld, but the jeweled sky burned overhead with impossible brilliance, bright and glittering.
Mountains rose on every side, solemn and steep, their black slopes rising in obsidian silhouettes against blazing starlight. From where she stood at the edge of the foothills, the laurel grove lay ahead—its silvered leaves trembling faintly, as if in welcome. And beyond the grove, half-veiled by moss-covered stone, a soft and unearthly light glimmered faintly.
Mnemosyne.
She moved swiftly, refusing to lift her gaze to the dark temple crowning the summit high above her.
Hewas there.
If she looked, if she glimpsed the bronze braziers casting amber light across that welcoming threshold—her feet would betray her. They would carry her straight to him, straight into his arms.
Inside the grotto, the silver waterfall sang softly. The air was warmer, weighted with memory. It pressed gently, brushed her skin like fingers she couldn’t see.
She stood at the pool’s edge, a chill ghosting through her.
“... could fracture the mind, even a god’s.”
Hades’s warning echoed in her thoughts, but she ignored it. She had come here—come back—for this. The truth was buried in the pool’s depths, sealed in memory. The secret of Achilles.
Her breath trembled as she whispered, “Mnemosyne, hear me. Show me the secret of Achilles.”
Then cautiously, she stepped forward, lowering one foot into the water. It curled around her ankle, warm and soft as a whispering touch. Nothing happened.
With a soft exhale, she stepped deeper. Warm water climbed past her thighs, gliding over her skin. Her feet met the floor of smooth, pearly stone. Across the pool, the waterfall shimmered. Silver torrents spilled in rippling sheets, churning the water.
Before, Hades had used his bident to awaken the pool. She had nothing but her will.
Lifting one hand, Persephone reached toward the fall. The cascading water kissed her fingers as it spilled through her hand like a rush of moonlight.
