by Logan Keys
Table of Contents
Epilogue
Prologue
Introduction
Persephone
Hades
Afterword
In the Veil of Shadows
Gaea
Acknowledgments
About the Author
In the Veil of Chaos
Book One, Lands of Gods Series
Nadia Blake & Logan Keys
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, incidents, and places are products of the author’s imagination and as such, are not to be misconstrued as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or actual events are entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Text copyright © 2018 Le Chat Publishing
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written consent from the publisher, except in the instance of quotes for reviews. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded, or distributed via the Internet without the publisher’s permission and is a violation of the International copyright law, which subjects the violator to severe fines and imprisonment.
This book is licensed for personal enjoyment. Ebook copies may not be resold or given away to other people. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
Cover © Katzilla Designs
Edited by Amanda Noonan
Proofread and formatted by Pauline Creeden
Contents
Introduction
1. Persephone
2. Persephone
3. Hades
4. Persephone
5. Hades
6. Hades
7. Persephone
8. Hades
9. Persephone
10. Hades
11. Persephone
12. Persephone
Epilogue
Afterword
In the Veil of Shadows
Prologue
Gaea
Gaea
Acknowledgments
About the Author
This book is dedicated to all those who love Greek mythology in all its incarnations.
Check out the next episodes in the Lands of Gods series:
In the Veil of Shadows, Logan Keys (28th March, 2018)
In the Veil of Vengeance, Kasondra Morin (May 9th, 2018)
In the Veil of Ruin, Nadia Blake and Logan Keys (June 20th, 2018)
In the Veil of Mischief, Lee Hayton (August 1st, 2018)
In the Veil of Sorrows, Pauline Creeden (September 12, 2018)
Persephone
Behind her black veil, Persephone Demeter blocks out the speaker at her father’s funeral. The wintery chill of the Underworld burrows into her soul and drains the little energy she has left. All that remains is a living grief that threatens to undo her.
Closing her eyes, Persephone visualizes a perfect day: sun, sand, and a cool breeze that brings the smell of the ocean with it. The opposite of where she stands in Hades’ palace with its muted, gloomy light and black walls.
Her father’s body, stitched together and waiting on the pyre for the sacred fire, disappears. Persephone is on the beach in Lia, Mykonos: the glorious Greek Isles. There is white sand, dramatic cliffs, and unending sun as far as the eye can see.
Surrounded by bright colors, there is no hint of darkness or cold. No mourners paying their last respects to Kronos Demeter, the Lord of Summer. She is in a world where her family still exists. What better way to defy a death than by celebrating life? Persephone’s father would have loved it. He called her his sunshine—a true daughter of the Land of Summer.
Grief clogs Persephone’s throat and the perfect day disappears. She’s back to cold reality in a place packed with people she’d prefer not to see. Representatives from all the main houses of the Lands are here: Summer, Fall, Spring, and Winter. Some just to ensure her father is really dead.
Persephone scans the power players. The Kings are in prime position in the front row to her left and people crane their necks to see them. They’re the youngest Kings to hold the titles in centuries and the most eligible bachelors.
The golden Zeus’ beauty is mesmerizing, rendering both male and female alike powerless in his presence. Thanatos is silken and dark. If someone enters his world, there is no return—only their last journey by ferryboat to the Underworld run by Hades.
Persephone’s heart stutters. Hades is the cold wind on her already broken and bloody heart. He’s the oldest brother of the three and sits as far away from her as he can.
Lord of Winter and God of the Underworld, Hades rules where souls reside. His judgment determines whether souls rest in the Elysian Fields in peace or in torture and torment in Tartarus.
To Persephone’s right is her cousin, Narcissus. He sits up front as a member of her family and contender to the title: Lord of Summer. He wears the face of Summer, golden and bright, opposite of what he truly is.
A chill settles on Persephone’s shoulders. Narcissus is responsible for her father’s death and now, she is the only Demeter left between Narcissus and his ambition of ruling the Lands of Summer.
Persephone swallows grief. It doesn’t matter that she’s never wanted the title or to rule Summer. She would be happy to marry for love and live far, far away from power—away from the bloodlust, destruction, political maneuverings, and the old rules.
Cyane, Persephone’s cousin and best friend, taps her on the arm. The funeral is mercifully over. Staggering to her feet, Persephone clutches Cyane’s outstretched arm and waits as the lead mourners take up positions by her father’s pyre.
The world goes blurry. Her father is really dead. He’s gone with her mother and brother Jason, who Narcissus might also have murdered.
Narcissus has killed her whole life and now Persephone is expected to marry him. If she protests, the vipers of her homeland will throw her to the wolves.
Narcissus strides to the front and grips the flaming torch. Only Cyane’s nails digging into Persephone’s arm stops her from screaming: “Murderer!”
Enemy, killer, family… betrothed.
The lump in Persephone’s throat threatens to spill out onto the black marble floor, but all eyes are locked on her. Of course, they’re all waiting for her permission to light the pyre. With her head up and back straight, she stalks forward, drawing the gaze of everyone in attendance.
She thanks the goddess for the black veil shielding her face from onlookers. Placing a sprig of jasmine on the pyre, Persephone brings a hand to her lips and presses her fingers onto the bundles of wood. She leaves love and heartache wrapped in a kiss.
Father isn’t in there. Not really. He and Jason and Mother are just beyond the horizon waiting for tomorrow. They’re sailing around the Greek Isles, visiting every port and harbor, splashing in the turquoise water and running on the golden sands.
A quiet cough draws Persephone’s attention. She makes eye contact with the man of her dreams and nightmares, Hades. His inky black hair, pale skin, and eyes the color of a frost-covered lake are written on her soul.
With his high cheekbones and ruthless jawline, Hades is a man of angles and mysteries. Some say he’s terrifying and only look at him if they have to. Persephone never had that problem. She always found it hard to look away.
Hades’ smile is quick and brief. She should feel honored; he rarely bestows
one. Persephone stalks forward and snatches the torch out of Narcissus’ hands. She will not allow her father to suffer the indignity of having his final journey lit by his killer.
Narcissus doesn’t utter a word in protest, but his eyes are dangerous. Persephone clenches her hands around the torch and touches the sacred fire to the pyre. As the songs of farewell start, her eyes meet Hades’ across the flames.
They lock gazes and hold. Persephone refuses to look away even though her knees are knocking. Hades: the King of the Underworld and ex-lover, and the man in charge of judging her father’s soul.
Persephone
Nymphs and faun circulate with wine and platters serving the guests. Noise is a hum in the air, interspersed with sporadic bursts of laughter. People gorge themselves, strategizing and politicking. Their eyes land on Persephone and slide away.
“My lady.” A young, blue nymph smiles at her and offers a tray of food. “Would you like something?”
Persephone smiles and points at her untouched plate of food. It’s overly heavy on meat and if she hadn’t given it up years ago, she would now on principle. She’s rapidly developing an affinity for sacrificial lambs.
The lavish hall has Hades’ sense of style and majesty stamped all over it. Two obsidian thrones sit high on a dais dominating an already oppressive and severe room. Black walls, black marble floors, red drapes, wrought iron furniture, and macabre artwork—he always had a flare for the dramatic and depressing.
Beside the thrones are the King of the Underworld’s legendary suit of armor and weapons: the sharp Helm of Darkness with two raised prongs at the back, which renders Hades’ face invisible; the sleek, obsidian armor, which reflects no light. Last but not least is Hades’ bident—the traditional two-pronged spear that is clasped in the right hand of a gauntlet with giant spikes.
Guarding all of it is Cerberus, Hades’ enormous black hellhound, with three-heads, six glowing eyes, a mane of snakes and a serpent’s tail. The dog sits passively with its massive paws out and surveys everyone in the room. Hades hasn’t even bothered to chain him.
Hades isn’t here and Persephone clamps down disappointment. She’s scanned every face in the room. Every time someone new entered her hope soared and then crashed. Now it’s nothing because it’s clear he’s not coming.
Persephone could call him. He would answer, but it’s an unwise path for her to tread. Besides, she has duties to fulfill and Hades takes duties seriously. They separated because of them.
Narcissus stands in the center of the room surrounded by a crowd of people. He’s tall with cerulean blue eyes and light blond hair. He prizes his good looks and wields them to his advantage.
Physically, Narcissus would be the handsomest person in the room if Zeus and Thanatos weren’t present. That must irk him. At least, Persephone hopes it does.
Narcissus waves out and pushes toward Persephone through the throngs of his admirers. “Well, cousin.” He sweeps the hair off his forehead with an elegant, father-killing hand. “This will all be over soon and we can get back to our lives.”
“It was a glorious send off to my father.” Persephone’s head throbs. “He will be taking his rightful place in the Elysian Fields.”
“Of course he will be in paradise.” Narcissus laughs. “He fought well.”
Persephone bites her own tongue. Narcissus has no sense of decorum. No sensitivity.
“We’ll make a good team, Perse,” he says, staring at her with fervent eyes. “All we have to do is make peace and marry.”
She hates the sound of her pet name on his lips. “Mmmm.” Persephone’s eyes linger on the symbols of peace—bread, milk, honey, and salt—sitting on the altar of Eriene, the Goddess of Peace.
Accepting these offerings clears Narcissus of any culpability in the death of Persephone’s father. Then there’s the marriage. If she does it, the Land of Summer is secure. But if she doesn’t, Narcissus can call for her blood and legally challenge her to fight to the death for the title.
“The Lord of Summer and the Harvest Queen united, Perse.” Narcissus touches her leg. “Think of how much we can achieve together.”
Persephone’s skin chills at his touch and she tries to imagine how their marriage would go. Narcissus would have full rights to not only her Lands and title, but also her body. Something dark uncoils inside her.
“Yes, of course.” Persephone’s cousin, Cyane, catches her eye. “If you don’t mind, Narcissus, I need to talk to Cyane about wedding plans. A union of our standing will take some preparation.”
“Brilliant.” Narcissus rubs his hands together. He leaves as Cyane sidles up to Persephone.
Wheat-colored hair and slim build, Cyane shares the same turquoise eyes as Persephone. They’re rare, even in the Land of Summer, and as such are prized. As children they were mistaken for twins until Persephone’s hair turned from white blonde to a burnished gold—the sign she was meant to be the Harvest Queen.
If life had gone as planned, Cyane would have been more than Persephone’s cousin. She would have been her sister. Cyane was betrothed to Jason until his life was cut short in a hunting accident.
“Perse.” Cyane taps her leg. “I know this is a stupid question, but are you okay?”
Tears threaten at her cousin’s kindness. “You’re the first person who’s asked me that.” Persephone’s lips tremble. “I don’t think I can go through with it. Pretending, in front of all these people. People I’ve known for years. People who knew my father and are now bowing and scraping to Narcissus. It just feels like such an insult to my father’s memory.”
“Perse.” Cyane’s face pales. “Narcissus will kill you if you don’t. You know this.”
“I know the consequences of my actions.” Persephone draws in a ragged breath. “Either way, I’m going to die. Marrying him would be a slow death. I think I’d prefer a quick one.”
Cyane blinks, once, twice, three times. “Me too, hypothetically.” She gulps. “If you were to leave here, do you have a plan?”
“Nope.” Persephone shakes her head. “Not a single one. I wasn’t actually going to leave. I was going to go throw myself in the River Styx.”
“Don’t you dare!” Cyane shudders. “I can’t think of a worse way to go than drowning in hate.”
“I can.” Persephone nudges Cyane with her shoulder. “Marriage to Narcissus. That’s drowning in hatred on dry, Summer Land. Or, I could have my head cut off in the arena in front of cheering crowds while music plays. That’s not a nice way to go, either.”
“I thought this might happen.” Cyane passes a handbag over to Persephone. “I did this as a precaution. Just take it and don’t look until you’re somewhere private. Inside is a mirror. You can activate a portal, but not in the Palace. Hades’ magic is too strong. I suggest you find somewhere near flowing water where the magic loosens a bit.” She grabs Persephone’s arm. “You can only use it once down here. Don’t tell me where you’re going, so if I’m asked I can say I don’t know. Go somewhere no one will think to look for you, even me.”
“No,” Persephone hisses. “If Narcissus finds out you helped me he’ll torture you. Maybe worse.”
“But he won’t kill me.” Cyane’s tear-filled eyes meet Persephone’s. “I can take a beating, so long as I know you’re okay. Please do this for me.”
Persephone squeezes Cyane’s hand. It’s kinship, a commitment of solidarity, and a: “Thank you for saving my life.” Legs shaking, she negotiates people by keeping her head down and letting her veil act as a barrier.
She’s nearly to the double doors at the far end of the room when Narcissus steps in her way. “Perse.” His face is tight. “Where are you going?”
“I’ve been summoned by Hades.” Persephone clutches the handbag tighter. “I’m not sure why.”
“Hades?” Narcissus smirks. “It must be important.” Taking Persephone by the arm, he leads her to the double doors. “I can come with you and see what this is about. He might be the King of the Underworld, b
ut you are the Harvest Queen of Summer, and I am your fiancé. He has no right to summon you without my permission.”
White noise fills Persephone’s head. Pulling away, she wills herself to be calm and appeals to his vanity. “Narcissus, I can go alone. You’re so much better with all this leadership stuff than I am. Please stay. Our people need you.”
An oily grin sits on Narcissus’ face. “You’re probably right. Someone as beautiful as you should never be inundated with the trials of leadership. I just want to make you happy.”
“You’re very kind, cousin.” Persephone keeps her tone light. She’s sure his plans will make her the opposite of happy and she’ll probably wind up dead.
A faun opens the double doors for Persephone and she glides through them to freedom. Turning, she clamps back the queasy feeling. “Thank you for helping me, Narcissus. I appreciate it.”
As soon as the doors close on Narcissus’ slimy face, Persephone does the opposite of what she usually does and sprints down the cavernous tunnels toward the darkness. The Underworld is as large as any of the Lands themselves. It’s easy to get lost, which is just what she needs.
Persephone follows the sound of flowing water until lamentations echo from the darkness beside her. Souls call out their misery and deepest regrets, and some phantoms kneel on the banks of the river, lapping at the waters.
Apparitions float in the air and drift toward her. Persephone presses herself against the stone-cold walls and waits even as the darkness and chill seep into her bones until she’s sure she’ll die from it.
