Page 71 of A Kingdom of Wild and Power
‘Wait,’ Zagreus called, falling into step with an easy, unhurried gait. At Kage’s brief look of confusion, he chuckled. ‘If you are truly intent on delivering yourself into my mother’s hands, I refuse to miss the spectacle.’ He glanced down and patted his leg. ‘Come along.’
Wren padded obediently after them, her pale form silent against the dark stone as the three of them made their way deeper into the Underworld.
They passed through the Underworld in silence, their footsteps swallowed by the endless gloom. Kage could not help but notice how the souls scattered the instant they caught sight of Zagreus. They fled as though chased by fire itself, veering away in hurried terror, fearful that one wrong glance or misstep might earn them a one-way descent into Hell.
Kage slowed as the castle gates rose before him. It was still unsettling, this sight—a fortress so painfully familiar it tugged at something raw within him. A mirror of his own home. Or rather, he reminded himself, his home had been the imitation allalong.
‘Souls of the Underworld cannot cross these gates,’ Zagreus remarked lightly, amusement glittering in his mismatched eyes. ‘But if you ask nicely, I might be persuaded to invite you in.’
Wren released an irritated huff, and in that instant Kage was certain that, were she capable of it, the wolf would have rolled her eyes. Instead, Kage merely cast Zagreus a flat, unimpressed look and stepped forward, straight through the gates.
A sharp gasp sounded behind him.
Zagreus froze, clearly poised to demand an explanation for how such a thing was even possible, when the air itself seemed to ripple. Shadows gathered and reshaped near the castle doors, coalescing into the familiar figure of Thanatos, his sudden appearance cutting Zagreus’ questions cleanly in half.
Thanatos betrayed nothing as he regarded them, his face a perfect mask of shadow and bone. After a long, measuring silence, he turned and led them onward, his presence guiding them through the halls until they reached the throne room where Persephone waited.
It was a grand, hollow space. One that, in the mortal world, the Blackburns had never truly used. As Kage stepped inside, memory stirred. He recalled his father, King Ozul, seated upon a throne in years long past, hearing petitions with all the ceremony expected of a ruler. But time had worn such formality thin. Ozul had grown weary of distance and ritual. He preferred the closeness of his people—visiting their cities and towns, sitting among them, listening. And when someone came to the castle seeking judgement or aid, the king never summoned them to a throne. He welcomed them into the main hall, bade them sit, and shared a meal as they spoke.
There was a reason he was so deeply loved.
Kage had seen Persephone once before, when she had cometo visit Zagreus in Tartarus. Yet standing before her now, truly face to face, was different. He had expected anger to rise in his chest, sharp and righteous. Instead, what settled there was something far quieter.
Pity.
And the realisation unsettled him more than rage ever could.
‘What should I call you?’ Kage asked quietly. ‘Freya or Persephone?’
It was still strange to behold the transformation. The valkyrian with freckled skin and clear blue eyes was gone, erased as though she had never existed. In her place sat a goddess now—ancient, formidable, and unmistakably dangerous, power coiled around her like a living thing.
Persephone let out a soft chuckle. ‘Call me whatever you wish, Kage Blackburn. Though I must admit, I am surprised to see you here, given that your sister and I are…less than friendly.’
‘And not because you stabbed me?’ he asked evenly.
Persephone shrugged, careless. ‘I may have held the dagger, but it is your sister who is to blame for your death.’
Kage’s brow furrowed. ‘How so?’
‘She is the reason all of this began,’ Persephone replied, tilting her head as she studied him with a predator’s patience. Kage’s gaze drifted, unbidden, to the black antlers crowning her head—an easy reminder that it was she who had shaped the Fae and gifted them their magic. ‘This chaos was born the moment your sister realised she could not live knowing her mother did not love her. Or rather, did not love her in the way she wished to be loved.’
‘A mother’s love matters,’ Kage said quietly. He caught the faint tightening of Thanatos’ expression from the corner of his eye. ‘You are a mother. You love your children.’
Persephone inclined her head, then glanced towards Zagreus, who rolled his eyes and pointedly looked away.
‘Children never understand the sacrifices made in their name,’ she said, her voice smooth and unyielding.
Zagreus’ jaw clenched.
Kage did not falter. ‘Then you would do anything to have your daughter back,’ he said, ignoring the weight of Thanatos’ stare upon him. ‘Surely you want her returned to you.’
Persephone leaned forward, the black antlers crowning her head catching the dim light. ‘This is rather brave of you, Kage Blackburn. To walk into my realm so willingly.’ Her lips curved, sharp and knowing. ‘I could trap you here. I could force your sister to come crawling back to save you…’ She lifted her hand, fingers poised to command the very laws of existence. Power stirred, then faltered.
Nothing happened.
Persephone’s dark eyes widened, fury flashing as she turned sharply towards Thanatos. ‘Explain this. Why can I not touch him? Why do my powers fail?’
‘He has been cursed,’ Thanatos replied evenly.
