Page 38 of A Kingdom of Wild and Power
The girl screamed. She shook her head violently and lunged towards them, desperation etched into every movement, trying to beg, to explain, but the lava answered first. Chains burst forth from the molten wall, coiling around her ankles, her wrists and her throat. They yanked her backwards with merciless force. She did not even have time to scream again before the lava swallowed her whole, her body vanishing as though she had never existed at all.
Moments later, a new soul appeared within the cell, blinking at the world in mute terror, confusion carved across their face.
‘You enjoy this,’ Kage remarked quietly as they walked on.
‘Me?’ Zagreus shrugged, almost lazily.
‘I can see it in your eyes.’
Zagreus stopped. Slowly, he turned his head, mismatched eyes narrowing as they fixed on Kage. ‘You believe you can read a god, Kage Blackburn?’ His voice dropped, edged with warning. ‘Be careful. Do not mistake my tolerance of your presence here for kindness.’
‘Then what is it?’
Zagreus drew in a slow breath, as though savouring the air itself, drinking in the distant screams that echoed through Tartarus.
‘I simply take great pleasure in tormenting my mother.’
Kage opened his mouth to respond, but Zagreus moved faster. A hand clamped over Kage’s mouth, silencing him instantly. At their side, Wren bristled, her hackles rising as a low growl rumbled deep in her chest.
‘Speaking of that vile creature…’ Zagreus murmured, a wicked smile curling his lips. ‘My mother is at the gates.’ His eyes flicked back to Kage. ‘You should hide now, Kage Blackburn.’
Wren caught hold of Kage’s sleeve and tugged gently, insistently, and Kage let himself be drawn along. Zagreus turned sharply on his heel and headed back towards the gates of Tartarus to meet the Queen of the Underworld. Kage knew he ought to have hidden then, should have melted into the shadows and stayed there, but curiosity burnt too fiercely. Against the wolf’s wishes, and in defiance of Zagreus’ warning, he followed.
He moved carefully, slipping into corners and clinging to the darkness, ensuring no eyes fell upon him. In moments like this, he could not help but miss his shadow crow, Spirox. Once, he would have sent the bird ahead to scout, to warn him ofdanger. He tried not to dwell on the companion who had followed him through his entire life, who had so often been his only friend in childhood. Because if he allowed himself to linger on that loss, he knew he would crumple, fall to his knees and shatter.
And Kage refused to shatter.
So he swallowed the grief, the memories, the ache of it all, pushing them deep into a place he never permitted himself to touch. With his heart locked tight and his steps light as breath, he continued after Zagreus, deeper towards whatever waited at the gates.
Kage found a recess in the wall where, with his back pressed firmly against the stone, he could disappear entirely into the shadows. Zagreus was already standing by the gates when Persephone arrived, striding through them as though the Underworld itself bent willingly to her will.
It was still unsettling to see the goddess in her true form, in this skin she now wore. In Kage’s mind, she was still Freya: the valkyrian with freckled skin and sharp blue eyes, broad-shouldered and severe, her presence brimming with a harshness he had oddly admired. Persephone had carved all of that away. The freckles were gone, the blue of her eyes darkened until it was almost black. Her brown hair had deepened in shade, and towering black antlers rose from her head like a crown. A long black gown flowed behind her, whispering across the stone as she moved.
She reached Zagreus and kissed his cheeks with a tenderness Kage had once thought beyond her. And yet, it should not have surprised him. Everything Persephone did, everything she was, was for her children.
She cared for nothing else.
Zagreus grimaced, irritation flickering across hismismatched eyes.
Persephone concealed her disappointment with practised ease and turned instead towards the throne of skulls Zagreus favoured. She seated herself upon it and fixed her son with a look sharp enough to slice through ice; a reminder, unmistakable and absolute.
She was the queen.
And he answered to her.
‘Your father is dead,’ Persephone said, inspecting her nails with idle detachment.
‘I know,’ Zagreus replied blandly. ‘Melinoe killed him.’
‘We must tread carefully,’ Persephone continued. ‘She is a God-Killer now, capable of erasing us entirely.’
‘Only if we set foot on mortal soil.’
‘And you believe she won’t attempt to lure us there?’ Persephone’s voice sharpened with agitation. ‘She has Makaria trapped in Hell.’
‘Then retrieve her,’ Zagreus said with a shrug. ‘You are the Queen of the Underworld.’
Persephone snorted. ‘We both know I am not particularly welcome in Hell.’
