Page 155 of Where Darkness Bloomed
Then the sun slipped over the world’s edge.
In its wake, Apollo returned. His arrival burned across the heavens—a streak of fire against black velvet as his chariot cut through the night.
Persephone followed its burning arc.
A winding trail curled along the mountainside to the stables, a humble structure of smooth-hewn stone and warm cedar, tucked beneath shadowed alders.
As she approached, her gaze caught the gleam of the chariot—burnished gold, glinting like a fallen star.
Clad in golden armor, the driver stood at the helm like the sun reborn. Four crimson horses pawed restlessly at the stone, hooves striking sparks that danced along the ground.Where Hades’s black steeds devoured light, Apollo’s mounts scattered it, wild and dazzling.
A golden lash cracked the air sharply.
As the chariot rolled forward, Persephone followed, her steps light across the grass.
She had nearly reached the stable door when one of the horses rearedviolently, its fiery eyes locked onto her. The horse’s scream raked the night air, flames curling from its nostrils like breath from a furnace.
“They are not overfond of strangers,” Apollo called over his shoulder without turning.
She paused beneath the stone columns of the arched entryway. There, she waited, watching.
Methodically, he unfastened the reins and led each beast to a stall. His movements were fluid, an ancient rite of return. Ambrosia spilled into the troughs, followed by a generous splash of violently red whiskey. The scent of it rose like heat, mingling with the steam rising off the horses’ sweat-slicked coats.
Once finished, Apollo turned. Golden eyes met hers—brilliant, unyielding. Utterly devoid of warmth.
“Kore.” The curve of his lips was too tight to be a smile. “Or is it Persephone yet again?” he asked, his head tilting. “I’ve quite lost track.”
The insult landed cleanly. She ignored it, holding his gaze. “Apollo.”
The silence grew taut. Behind him, the horses snorted and stamped, loud in the stillness.
He ran a hand carelessly through his golden hair. “You’ve come far to see me.” Amusement laced his voice, a smirk deepening at the corner of his mouth. “I am honored. It’s not every day that one climbs up from the Underworld.”
A flicker of surprise rippled through her.
He glanced at her, marking it. “I see all from the sky,” he added, almost lazily.
“Then you know where I came from,” she replied, the words edged in frost. “And the position I hold there.”
“And yet…” His brow arched, torchlight catching brightly in his gaze. “I saw you only days ago, trailing your mother’s skirts. Hands in the earth, growing myrtle.”
He let the silence settle, eyeing her. “Which is it, I wonder?” he mused condescendingly. “Daughter of a powerful goddess, or consort of a powerful god?”
That, she felt. Heat surged beneath her skin, anger rising swiftly. But she held it tightly, kept her spine straight.
“I didn’t come from the Underworld to argue titles.” Her words fell clean, cutting. “I came to speak of the Greeks.”
All trace of amusement vanished from him. The golden warmth drained from Apollo, revealing a blistering inferno beneath.
“You waste your breath,” he said, his face hardening. “I will not be swayed to mercy, not even by Hades. Their fate is sealed.”
“I do not seek mercy, only to limit the senseless slaughter,” she replied tersely.
Apollo’s jaw tensed, his fingers flexing at his sides. Firelight caught the shift in his frame, wrath barely restrained.
“My retribution is not senseless,” he growled. “They’ve earned my wrath with each arrow loosed, each sword swung.”
She almost scoffed at his arrogance. Once, she’d thought of Apollo as noble. Beautiful. A god of light and reason. Now, there was only fire and pride.
