A Touch of Chaos (Hades x Persephone Saga Book 7)

A knock woke Persephone from sleep.

Hades was on his feet before she had even opened her eyes, making his way across the room, his magic cloaking him in robes as he went.

“Hades!”

It was Ilias. The sound of his frantic voice made Persephone’s heart race.

The doors opened, and the satyr rushed in, his eyes wide with panic.

“Theseus has struck. Artemis sent word. He is raiding Athena’s temple as we speak!”

Persephone rose from bed.

“He wasn’t supposed to act until morning,” Persephone said, using her glamour to dress.

“He must have gotten word that we emptied the temples,” said Ilias.

Or someone had betrayed them. Either way, the battle was happening sooner than any of them had anticipated.

Hades turned to Persephone. There was a haunted look in his gaze, and she knew that he did not want her to come, that he did not want her to be part of this battle.

“I have just as much need to watch him die as you do, Hades,” she said.

He held out his hand, and she thought that he meant for her to take it, but instead, a ribbon of shadow came from his palm and wound around her body, turning into leather-like armor.

“Come,” he said, and this time, she took his hand.

They teleported together.

Persephone did not know what to expect when they arrived, but she certainly did not think it would be so bright. It was supposed to be night.

“Helios,” Hades growled.

Persephone blinked, eyes watering, and as her vision adjusted, the true horror of what was about to unfold became clear.

Hades had appeared beside Artemis, Hephaestus, and Hecate. Opposite them were four familiar demigods. Each one held a blade to the throat of a priestess. The women had their eyes closed, their mouths moving in silent prayer. In the distance, she could hear screams from inside the temple where the other mortals were locked inside.

“It’s good that you could join us,” said Theseus.

“Why are you doing this?” Persephone demanded. “None of these people have harmed you.”

“If I am to make a new world, there can be no one left who believes in the old gods.”

“We are not old gods yet,” said Hades.

“But you have old weaknesses,” said Theseus. He glanced up at the sky. “How is the sun treating you, Hecate?”

Persephone looked at the goddess, who offered a small smile. “It is kind of you to ask, Theseus, but I am well.”

She did not understand the exchange. Did the sun weaken Hecate’s magic?

“I am nothing but concerned for your well-being,” replied the demigod.

It was then Persephone’s gaze caught on something in the distance—the gleam of steel. It was an army of foot soldiers—of hundreds of mortals.

It was also a distraction. A series of low gasps sounded, and Persephone’s and Hecate’s magic flared to life, freezing the demigods’ hands, but it was too late. Their blades had landed, and blood was already spilled.

A strange sound followed, like the air was being sucked out of the world, and the demigods broke the hold Persephone and Hecate had on them, dropping the priestesses to the ground.

The air flooded with magic, thick and heavy—a dizzying mix of all the gods. Debris began to rise. Persephone couldn’t tell who was responsible. Maybe they all were—their power collectively reacting to the horror before them.

The demigods drew their weapons, Hades summoned his bident, Hephaestus his fiery whip, and Artemis her bow. Persephone and Hecate remained weaponless. As she eyed the sharp tips of the demigods’ blades, anxiety swirled in her chest.

Magic did not matter if that poisoned end met her flesh.

She started to consider her first move, glancing to her left and right. She was flanked by Hecate and Hades—Hades, who looked magnificent, towering in black armor. In some ways, she wished she was as battle honed as he was, but she would not be a liability.

Then Hecate vanished.

Persephone’s heart raced, and the demigods raised their weapons.

Theseus chuckled.

“It appears your Titaness has abandoned you. Perhaps you should get used to the feeling.”

But Persephone knew that wasn’t true. She could still taste the metallic tang of Hecate’s magic on the back of her tongue.

Then Theseus looked down, scraping his shoe against the pavement.

“Oh, now isn’t that unfortunate?” he said. “There is blood on my shoes.”

Persephone gritted her teeth, and her nails bit into her palms. Her magic raged inside her. She knew Theseus had said it to provoke, that he liked jabbing an already-raw wound, and as much as she wanted to attack, she didn’t make the first move. Artemis did.

The Goddess of the Hunt gave an angry cry as she darted toward Theseus, grief fueling her rage, and as their blades clashed, the demigods who had murdered the priestesses attacked.

Persephone had expected Sandros to challenge her first, given that she had buried him under a pile of adamant outside the labyrinth, but she was surprised when Kai appeared before her. Looking at him was like looking into the face of Poseidon and Theseus, his eyes the same sparkling aqua.

She had come to despise them.

He had a spear, and he jabbed at her throat. Persephone summoned a wall of thick thorns that shattered beneath the power of his thrust. She managed to dodge the blow but was hit by a blast of power straight to her chest. She felt the impact of the ground as she was thrown back, the earth exploding around her.

Despite the strength of the blow, she rose quickly, rising from the fissure her landing had made. As she did, she realized she had come within a few feet of the mortal army. Their cries of hatred were accompanied by the sound of their swords clashing against their shields, the whir of arrows, and the explosion of bullets—one of which grazed her shoulder. The burn shocked her and instantly made her nauseous.

She summoned a wall of thorns to block their approach, though she knew it was only a matter of time before the mortals managed to scale them or hack their way through, but then they went up in ethereal flames. The magic belonged to Hephaestus, and while the fire would not burn her thorns, it would incinerate any mortal who touched it, preventing the army from advancing.

Before she could move, she was slammed with another blast of energy. It felt like being hit by a powerful wave and stole her breath like she was drowning. It sent her to her knees, and as she worked to fill her lungs with air, she looked up to see Kai approaching, a horrible grin across his face.

He lifted his spear parallel with the ground and aimed, only to be thrown back and pinned to the ground by the impact of Hades’s bident in his chest. Then suddenly, Hades was in front of her, helping her to her feet, his hands framing her face, eyes searching and a little frantic.

“I’m okay,” she said.

He said nothing, but he kissed her hard on the mouth, and she thought she might burst into tears, but the hair on her arms rose, and she knew that something else was coming. They tore away from each other just as lightning struck Athena’s temple. The blow came from Theseus and was directed at the only part that would burn, its wooden doors.

“No,” Persephone breathed.

“Go,” Hades said.

He moved past her, breaking into a run as he plucked his bident from Kai’s chest and charged after Theseus.

Persephone teleported to the porch of the temple where Theseus’s divine fire raged. The flames put off heat and smoke, but they were not destroying the wood—it was like Hephaestus’s fire. From the other side, she could hear desperate screams. Panic rose inside her as she thought about how many people might be trapped within.

Before she could decide how to tackle the fire, she felt a surge of electricity behind her and whirled, coming face-to-face with Sandros, his eyes aglow. He gave a menacing smile.

“Remember me?”

“How could I forget?” she asked. “You are as ugly as your father.”

His lip curled, eyes sparking with rage. His hand crackled with lightning as he sent a blast barreling toward her. She jumped out of the way, thinking that the impact might cause the doors to burst open, but it only made the fire worse.

Fuck!

Persephone sent spikes of black thorns barreling toward the god. They slammed through him, each one forcing him back step after step, his body jerking violently. Despite this, he managed to blast her with another bolt, and she went flying. Smashing through a marble column, she landed hard on her back.

The demigod followed, launching himself at her, only to be impaled on a thicket of black spires that she had summoned around her. Blood dripped from his body onto hers. She was too frantic to be disgusted, even as she dismissed the spikes and his body fell on top of hers.

She threw him from her, and he fell off the side of the porch.

As she rose to her feet, there was a flare of light in the sky. Persephone looked on both in shock and awe as she followed the path of the sun as it fell from the sky. When it crashed to the ground, there was another flash, and the earth shook the same way it had when New Athens had been severed from the rest of New Greece.

Darkness flooded the world, and the only light was that of Selene’s moon, which bathed everything in silver.

It was then that Persephone understood where Hecate had gone. She had torn Helios from the sky.

Persephone did not have long to think about what that actually meant. For now, she had to save the mortals in the temple.

Regrouping, she scrambled to the door. At first, she did not know what to do, but then she noticed that the flames had an energy that felt a lot like life, and if something had life, it could also die. She focused on the feel of the fire. Its wild heat was almost like a pulse. She could feel it in the palm of her hand, and once she had captured its beat, she closed her fingers around it, crushing it, suffocating it until there was no sign of it left.

Without thinking, she touched the handle of the door and instantly felt the burn of hot metal melt her skin. She screamed, her pain feeding her magic, which caused vines to burst from the ground. They tore into the crevices of the door, slowly rotting away the wood until she could kick them open.

But no one ran from the temple, and as the smoke cleared, she saw why. Beyond the threshold, there were only bodies.

Everyone was dead. She was too late.

Something struck her from behind. The blow was hard and instantly made her sick. She staggered but didn’t fall, whirling to find that Sandros had returned, healed but bloody from being skewered by her magic. In his hands, he held a piece of marble, and something inside her snapped.

She screamed, and her magic turned to shadows, peeling off her body and barreling toward the demigod. They raced through him, and he dropped the bloodied piece of marble as he stumbled back until he came to the edge of the steps and fell.

Persephone followed, swiping the marble from the ground. She pounced, slamming it into his head over and over until she noticed thin black shadows wrapping around her wrists and slithering up her arms. She dropped the bloodied rock and rose to her feet, watching as the tendrils of the demigod’s soul seeped into her skin. She realized what she had just done.

She had taken a life thread that had not been cut.

Her heart hammered in her ears as she frantically scanned the battlefield. Would the Fates take someone as retribution? Or would they give birth to something far worse? She knew the price of taking life—a soul for a soul.

Then her eyes found Hades, and everything around her seemed to slow. He was on his back, motionless.

“No,” she breathed as she stumbled toward him. Then she screamed. “No!”

She fell to her knees beside him and brushed his hair from his face.

“Hades,” she whispered.

His eyes were half-open, and there was blood on his lips. For one strange moment, she felt like she had been here before, that she had seen this before.

Hades lifted his hand, brushing a finger along her cheek.

“I thought…I thought I’d never see you again.” He spoke quietly, more blood spilling from the corners of his mouth.

“We have to get you to the Underworld,” she said, gripping his shoulders, as if by some miracle, she might be able to lift him. “The Golden Fleece—”

“I can’t, Persephone,” he said.

“What do you mean you can’t?” she said, hysteria rising inside her. “Hades, please.”

He took her hand and squeezed. When she looked down, she saw the black threads of the demigod’s soul marring her skin.

“A soul for a soul, Persephone.”

“No,” she said. She refused to believe it, not only because she did not wish for it to be true but because she knew it wasn’t. The Fates would only trade Hades’s life for that of another god.

She knew that.

“It’s over, Persephone.”

“No,” she repeated, her hands shaking. She didn’t know what was happening, but she knew this wasn’t real. “No! Hecate! Hecate!”

She searched for the goddess, but all she could see was ruin and fire. There was nothing else.

“Persephone,” Hades said.

She couldn’t look at him, because she knew if she did, he would drag her back in. He would convince her this was real. He would say goodbye.

“Persephone, look at me,” Hades begged.

“I can’t,” she said. A guttural sob erupted from her throat.

“I love you,” Hades whispered, and then he fell silent, and though she knew she shouldn’t look, she couldn’t help it. She had to know.

Her gaze fell to his face. He was still.

“Hades?” she whispered, frantic to hear his voice again. She shook him, but he did not move. “Hades, please!”

She placed her hands on his face. His skin was growing cool.

“Hades!”

She screamed, and a pain more acute than anything she had ever felt ripped through her. She felt like she was being torn to shreds, and then a wave of magic barreled over her, and Hades’s body began to break apart, and the landscape around her seemed to burn away and melt, revealing a different world beneath.

The real world.

What she had sensed was true—the vision she had seen of Hades’s dead body was not real. Instead of kneeling before him, she was kneeling on the ground before Athena’s temple. Sandros lay beside her, blood pooling on the ground around him.

Confused, she looked into the sky and saw two gods fighting.

One she recognized as Cronos, and the other was Prometheus, the Titan God of Fire, and suddenly she understood that the reality the God of Time had crafted to torture her had been broken by Prometheus, and now they battled in the sky.

Hades manifested before her, and she rose to her feet, flinging her arms around him, a sob escaping her mouth.

“I’m here,” he said, and then they vanished.