Page 152 of A Kingdom of Wild and Power
She approached the boat, her attention settling upon Charon—ferryman of souls, guide of the dead into the depths below. Mal had long since learnt there were other ways into the Underworld, paths carved through shadow and old power. She wondered, briefly, why they had chosen this one.
‘Persephone,’ Thanatos said quietly. ‘It will be easier if she does not see us.’
Mal inclined her head and stepped towards the boat without hesitation. The wood was dark as pitch beneath her boots, the river whispering against its sides.
Thanatos extended his hand to help her aboard.
Ordinarily, she would have brushed him aside, but this time, she placed her hand in his.
She did not miss the way his dark eyes widened, surprise flickering there like a dying star. And for the briefest of moments, despite everything, she almost smiled.
Charon appeared as he always did; an immense, shrouded figure cloaked entirely in black, his features swallowed by shadow. Only the vast sweep of wyverian horns rising from beneath his hood betrayed any sense of shape at all.
The boat drifted down the river in solemn silence. Mal watched the Underworld unfold around them, while Thanatos—she felt rather than saw—watched her.
In the distance, colossal shapes loomed upon the hills that flanked the river; enormous stone faces of fallen gods, half-buried in dead grass and ash. They lay broken and scattered, as though the earth itself had rejected them.
Then Mal saw it.
A new monument stood among them.
She gasped softly.
Carved into cold stone was the unmistakable face of Hades.
‘It would seem,’ Thanatos said quietly, gesturing towards the towering effigy, ‘that when a god dies, truly dies, that appears.’
The statue bore the sharp severity of Hades’ features, his crown etched into stone, his expression caught somewhere between wrath and surrender. Mal remembered the moment her blade had pierced him. The strange peace that had settled acrosshis face at the end. She had not allowed herself to grieve him, a father she had never truly known. She was far too weary of mourning.
‘So all the other fallen gods we see,’ she said, indicating the dozens of shattered colossi littering the hillsides, ‘must have been killed by a God-Killer. So there have been others?’
Thanatos gave a small shrug. ‘We do not know that to be true, Melinoe.’
‘We do not know it to be untrue either.’
He looked as though he wished to argue, but instead his jaw tightened and he turned away.
Mal allowed herself the smallest of smiles, quietly satisfied by his silence as the river carried them deeper into shadow.
They passed beneath the enormous black gates, their iron teeth yawning wide enough to swallow kingdoms whole, and soon halted at the outskirts of the small settlement of Asphodel Meadows. Pale light clung to the crooked cottages, and the air was thick with the hush of wandering souls.
Mal followed Thanatos through the winding lanes, their steps measured and careful. More than once they slipped into narrow alleyways, pressing themselves into shadow when silent processions of the dead drifted past. The last thing they needed was word reaching Persephone that Mal had returned to the Underworld.
At last they emerged from the warped little town and crossed fields of black roses, their petals dark as dried blood, their scent faintly sweet and wrong. Beyond them loomed the iron gates of Tartarus. Vast and ancient. Unyielding even.
A flash of white broke the gloom.
Wren burst forward, bounding across the ground and throwing herself at Mal, licking her face with unabashed delight. Mal let out a breathless laugh despite herself, buryingher fingers into the wolf’s thick fur.
Moments later Zagreus appeared, head tilted with quiet curiosity. At a soft command from him, Wren trotted obediently back to his side. Mal watched, faintly astonished, as Zagreus scratched behind the wolf’s ear, his sharp features softening, his mismatched eyes warming in a way she had rarely seen.
Perhaps Thanatos had been right.
Perhaps all Zagreus had ever truly wanted was something simple.
Love.
And the comfort of not being alone.
