Page 219 of A Kingdom of Wild and Power
And Bryn Wynter kept walking.
He never once lookedback.
None of the Kings of Hell particularly like Hades. Though I wouldn’t either, if I was trapped in Hell because of him. He created the rings, after all. He is as much to blame as the Sun God. I think Hades knows this, and deep down, he has always feared the idea of them escaping the rings.
Tabitha Wysteria
‘I need to continue into the next ring,’ Mal said to the enormous beast.
Livyatan chuckled, the sound rolling across the beach like distant thunder.
‘Very well, child of Hades,’ he replied. ‘You may continue your journey. But be warned. Where you are headed, there may be no returning from it.’
Mal nodded, her grip tightening around the hilt of her sword. She reached for Wren, and together they watched as the colossal wyvern head drew closer and closer, its vast jaws slowly spreading open.
For a brief moment Mal hesitated.
A flicker of doubt crossed her mind, wondering if this was some cruel trick. But there was nothing else she could do.
With a sharp breath, she leapt forward into the beast’swaiting mouth. The moment its enormous jaws closed around them, darkness swallowed everything.
Then Livyatan swallowed them whole.
Mal felt her body drop.
She fell and fell, tumbling through a void that seemed to stretch endlessly, an eternal descent through nothingness.
Until suddenly her back struck solid ground.
The impact knocked the breath from her lungs. Groaning softly, Mal pushed herself upright and realised she had landed upon soft grass.
She blinked.
Surrounding her was a garden.
Ancient ruins lay scattered among the greenery, pale stone broken and softened by time. Waterfalls spilt gently through the crumbling structures, their quiet murmur filling the air. And everywhere Mal looked, flowers bloomed in every colour imaginable.
Wren was already on her feet. She leaned forward to sniff an enormous pink blossom, only to sneeze violently a moment later before bursting into laughter.
‘This seems far too pleasant to be a ring of Hell,’ she said.
Mal found herself silently agreeing.
Butterflies drifted lazily above their heads, and when Mal glanced up, she found the sky overhead impossibly blue and bright.
They walked slowly through the garden until they reached a narrow river that cut the land in two, separating them from a small island at its centre. A simple wooden bridge stretched across the water, its planks worn smooth with age.
Wren hurried across it without hesitation.
Mal did not like the look of it—not in the slightest—but she followed nonetheless.
The island itself was little more than a patch of grass and tangled vegetation. Yet something gleamed not far ahead, catching Mal’s attention. She moved towards it and then stopped short, staring in quiet astonishment.
A large mirror stood alone in the centre of the island.
‘What do ya think it’s for?’ Wren asked curiously.
Mal only shrugged.
