Page 49 of Where Darkness Bloomed
At last, his voice reached her. “You are of great consequence to me.”
The words landed like an anchor cast into deep, uncertain waters. A breath slipped from her lips.
“It matters little what the world above believes,” he said. “There, you are the goddess of spring.” A pause. Then, quieter—rougher, “Here, with me... you are more.”
Her fingers curled where they rested above her heart. Slowly, her gaze found its way back to him. They watched one another without speaking as Alastor crunched through a particularly loud bone with a vicious snap.
“Let me show you.” He extended his hand. An offering, bridging the chasm between them.
Kore hesitated, her fingers hovering just above his. “Where will you take me?”
His fingers closed around hers.
“The Pool.”
Darkness rose—not heavy or cold, but soft as dusk. The world tilted as it had before, but his hand around hers kept her steady.
When the shadows rolled back, they stood in a grove of laurels nestled against the slope of a shadowed mountainside. Through the slender branches, the jeweled sky of the Underworld glittered brightly. The river’s distant roar still reached her, but now softened, hushed by trees and stone.
He released her hand. “Come.”
A steep cliff rose nearby, its face split by a narrow cavern. Hades stooped to enter. Kore followed, ducking beneath the stone threshold into the hush beyond.
Small and shadowed, the alcove was formed of smooth, curved walls. At its center, a pool shimmered. Its waters were silver and luminous, like moonlight poured into a basin of night. A waterfall slipped quietly down the far wall, rippling like silk. It gurgled, the sound gentle as breath.
Soft light played across the stone walls, silvering Kore’s skin as she stepped forward, awed. “Where does the water come from?”
“The River Lethe.”
She recoiled instantly, taking a startled step back. “But the Lethe removes memory.”
“Yes.” The reply was calm, assured. “But not this pool.”
Hades stepped beside her, his gaze drawing down to the glowing water. “The Lethe washes away memory, but this pool—the Pool of Mnemosyne—collects it. Both are vital to the Underworld.”
Kore watched the waterfall softly churn the water. “Why is memory vital?”
“Mortals arrive burdened with sorrow. Grief, pain, love lost to them in death,” he explained. “Lethe grants them peace as they enter into eternity. But Mnemosyne”—he nodded down to the pool—“remembers all. Every whisper, every breath from the birth of creation. Powerful, dangerous, but vital.”
“Dangerous,” she repeated quietly.
“To fall in would be... unfortunate.” His words were deliberate. “The weight of every memory in existence could easily fracture the mind. Even a god’s.”
A chill swept over her as she stared down. The water sparkled brightly.
Her gaze lifted again when Hades reached for the pin at his shoulder, unclasping it. As before, his himation slid away, leaving him clad in only a low-draped garment tied at his hips, skimming the tops of his muscular thighs. Shadows and silver light clung to the ridges of his mostly bare form—tall and powerful.
Heat crept up her neck, and her gaze darted away—until the soft sound of water stirred the air.
When she looked back, he had stepped into the pool. Light bathed his skin, the water lapping at his waist. Silver shimmered along the planes of his chest and shoulders, moonlit and quiet.
She blinked, gaping.
He looked up then, reaching out a hand to her.
“But it is dangerous,” she protested, her traitorous gaze dragging over the sculpted strength of his shoulders.
“Yes, but you are with me,” he said simply.
