by Logan Keys
“What did you say? That’s impossible.” Persephone puts her hands up pushing away the words. “He can’t do that because… fighting in the Land of Summer will kill him. It will turn him mortal and he will die.”
“It’s true.” Pain paints Zeus’ face. “He didn’t want you to know. He’s made contingency plans if he doesn’t come back. The Night Army will march into Summer and secure your throne for you.”
“No.” White noise roars in Persephone’s head. “I don’t want that.”
Zeus’ golden eyes bore in. “You must have known, Persephone. Hades would never allow Narcissus to touch a hair on your head.”
“A hair on my head?” Persephone screams. “What about his?”
“Hades planned this from the moment you refused to make peace and marry Narcissus.” Zeus’ words are body blows. “What did you expect would happen?”
“Not this.” Persephone covers her mouth with her hand. “I didn’t realize Hades was going to answer Narcissus’ challenge in the Lands of Summer. I thought they would meet on neutral ground.”
“No.” Zeus’ nose wrinkles. “The challenge is quite specific. It originated from Summer and needs to be fought there.”
Persephone’s world begins to sway. Hades knew the cost. He presented her with the options, but Persephone failed to realize the significance. Hades’ offer of marriage was actually his death warrant, he knew that and still did it willingly for her. “Oh, gods and goddesses.”
Persephone views this garden and home with new eyes. Hades has been training her—in magic and in Underworld law, and how to rule if he’s not here. “I am such a fool.” She chokes on sobs. “An idiot, stupid, selfish creature. I’ve killed him.”
“Not yet.” Zeus’ offers a glimmer of hope. “You can stop this.”
“How?” Persephone’s voice cracks, but she knows. The challenge was to her and she can answer it. “Take me to him, please.”
“I can’t.” Zeus’ shakes his head. “I have to remain neutral. If I’m seen giving aid there will be consequences for me.”
Something dark skitters along the edges of Persephone’s vision. “Consequences for you?” She jabs a finger in Zeus’ face. “It’s always about you, isn’t it? Tell the truth. You can help, but you won’t. Yet, if the positions were reversed, Hades would do everything in his power for you.”
Zeus’ eyes burn a liquid gold. He reaches a hand toward her face, but Persephone slaps it away. The tang of magic hits where their skin connects, his bursts out in light, but the darkness from her swallows it.
“Don’t,” Persephone warns. “If Hades doesn’t get to touch me, neither do you. Believe me, his are the only hands I want on my body.”
“Your Majesty.” Zeus bows his head with a small dip. “That title will remain with or without a King. Hades has ensured it.”
Persephone’s blood boils in her veins. “I’m loyal to the man, not the King. What is the point of any of this if I can’t have him? Immortality, riches, titles: I’d give them all up for love and he is love. I don’t want anything but him.”
Zeus takes his leave and all the noise of the Underworld goes with him. The silence presses in and that’s when it truly dawns. The Underworld is silent because the King and the Night Army aren’t here. Everything crystalizes in brutal clarity: if Hades doesn’t return, they will come to her.
Hades once said he wouldn’t live in a world without her. Well, she won’t live in a world without him. How could he ever think she would?
“Brutus,” Persephone commands. “Take me to Hades’ palace.” Latching a hand onto the hound, they step in between. The cold and dark of the void seep in before murky images loom in the distance.
Persephone and Brutus burst through the veil and land in Hades’ empty palace. Hades’ obsidian armor and bident are gone from their resting place. Even Cerberus is not in his usual place.
It’s true, all of it. Persephone sprints for Hades’ bedroom, her sanctuary, the place she tumbled into and where she started all this mess. It’s frigid in here, ice clinging to the walls and ceiling.
Opening the wardrobe door, Persephone faces the mirror and demands. “Hades. Show him to me.”
Darkness swirls in the glass and billows before stretching out into a recognizable shape of a black marquee. The angle widens until Persephone can see Cerberus resting his head on his paws on golden sand.
Persephone’s heart thuds and gurgles as her eyes land on Hades. He’s slumped in a chair with his obsidian armor on. His eyes are closed and the Helm of Darkness rests on his legs. His hair is stuck to his forehead and his skin, usually so pallid, has a golden tint to it.
No, no, no. The sun will turn Hades mortal and if he battles Narcissus as a mortal, he will die. Her husband opens his eyes and for a moment stares straight at her.
Persephone bangs her hands on the mirror, but Hades turns away. His heavy eyes are on someone else. A woman’s back comes into view and she bends before him, sticking her face in his.
Hades shakes his head, a rare and wry smile on his face. The woman turns and Persephone’s world goes into slow motion. Blonde hair and turquoise eyes: she would know that face anywhere.
“Cyane,” Persephone calls out. The sister of her heart stiffens, shoulders tight. Her head tilts to the side and then she goes back to talking to Hades.
Hades stands, places the Helm on his head, and exits out of view. Persephone can no longer see his beautiful face. Dread fills her stomach, as black and oily as the River Styx.
Cyane’s face is in the mirror. “Perse,” she whispers. “I tried to contact you. Hades charmed the Underworld, so I couldn’t.”
“You have to stop him.” Persephone’s legs shake. “This is madness.”
Tears drip down Cyane’s face. “I tried to. Thanatos did, too, but he won’t listen.”
“I’m coming.” Persephone nods. “I’m going to stop this even if I have to stand in the arena and cut my own head off.”
Cyane puts her hand up to the glass. “He loves you, Perse. It’s why he’s doing this.”
“I love him, too.” Persephone mirrors Cyane and places her hand up to the glass. “Desperately, furiously. I won’t live without him.”
“I know that feeling, Perse.” Cyane smiles through her tears. “I’m doing what I can to help. My life is tied with Hades’ now. If he falls, so do I.” She turns her head. “I have to go. Something is happening in the arena.”
Persephone steps back from the mirror. Narcissus has taken nearly everything and everyone from her, but he won’t take Hades or Cyane—not while Persephone has life left in her.
“Dress me,” Persephone orders the wardrobe. “I am the Harvest Queen and Blood Heir of Summer. I am also Queen of the Underworld, wife to the King, and I am about to go to battle.”
Hades
The sun is a fury against Hades’ eyes. Even the Helm of Darkness cannot fully counteract the brightness. Everything glares in Summer: the people in the stands, the sand, the sky, the white flags with the emblem of a golden sun in the middle.
Flags are waving in a sea of frenzy. The arena is full and it’s standing room only. It’s not often the King of the Underworld surfaces, especially to fight for his Queen.
Armed guards with shiny shields and spears line the arena. Sweat trickles on the inside of Hades obsidian armor as he makes his way to the middle of the golden sands. His stone-cold body is warming to dangerous temperatures, a fact Narcissus is aware of, which is why he keeps delaying their challenge with other sacrifices.
The armor was never made to withstand full sunlight and this heat. Its power is drawn from darker places. Patches of brown stain the breastplate of what was once pure black. It’s a roadmap of how to kill him, which is what the crowd wants. A lucky strike with the right weapon will grant them their wish. They can have his blood and pain, but they won’t have Persephone’s.
Hades raises his bident to the crowd and the response is muted—polite claps and unapologetic boos. He is not
the hero of these Lands, but the villain, even though he is fighting for the Blood Heir of Summer.
A gate rumbles open and a Minotaur steams toward him. Dust kicks up from the golden sands as the beast with the bull’s head and monster human body, rushes toward him. Its nostrils flare, the whites of the creature’s eyes gleam anger and terror.
Hades braces himself. In his right hand, he holds the bident and in his left he balances his body with the long silver dagger of Winter. Hoofs thunder as the Minotaur gets in range, close enough for Hades to smell its fear and fury.
Twisting right, Hades drives the bident up and under its chin. Blood and foam sprays. The minotaur’s legs fold up underneath it before it crashes face first into the sand and comes to a rolling stop.
Hades swallows his distaste. The creature was innocent; a sacrifice for a cowardly Pretender. He might be the keeper of souls in the Underworld, but unlike Narcissus, Hades respects the sanctity of life.
The Minotaur’s chest rises and falls in shallow breaths. Hades puts a hand to the creature’s head to end its misery. “Farewell, brother. You’re welcome in my realm. You can be free with your family.”
Raising his sword, Hades follows Summer’s custom and takes the head of his opponent. He holds it up as the crowd roars.
Dropping the Minotaur’s head in the sand, Hades walks back to his black pavilion, an anomaly among all the gold and white. Cerberus raises his three heads as Hades falls into a seat in the dark, cool pavilion. Closing his eyes, he vows the Minotaur was the last sacrifice he will accept from Narcissus. It’s time to call the Pretender of Summer out for his cowardice and end this for Persephone.
A cool breeze blows over his face. Taking the Helm of Darkness off, Hades comes face to face with Thanatos. “Thank you, brother.”
Cyane hovers in the corner with her magical tools. Her face is pale and eyes red-rimmed. She drops in front of Hades and starts to mend his armor with a silver liquid.
“I’m not supposed to be here.” Hand up, Thanatos keeps the cool air coming. “I’m neutral, remember.” His eyes rake Hades. “How much energy have you got left?”
Not much. Hades sighs. “Enough to take Narcissus’ head.”
Thanatos crouches down in front of him. “You can’t delay any longer, Hades. I’ll accept your lies as your brother, but as Death I know the truth. You’re not here to fight beasts. Demand Narcissus’ presence and kill him.”
Hades chuckles and they both freeze. Nothing symbolizes his waning power more than that sound. Zeus can laugh, even Death gets to, but not Winter. By nature, it’s designed to be severe.
“I knew the risks, Thanatos. I agreed to fight by Narcissus’ rules to free Persephone. If you’re right about Death being able to smell my lies then you know I lied over and over again, especially to myself. I never should have accepted the title of Winter because I’m in love with Summer. I was never going to allow Narcissus to have Persephone now or ever.”
“And Summer is in love with you.” Thanatos shakes his head. “I think she could have accepted the peace, but not the marriage to Narcissus. That’s what made her run and she ran to you.”
“He’s right.” Cyane hands move over Hades’ suit, but the brown is still visible under the black. “I gave her a magical escape at her father’s funeral. I told her to use it and go somewhere safe. She went to you.”
It all makes sense now, Hades thinks to himself. Persephone never told Hades how she ended up in his bed. In truth, he didn’t care, he was just glad she was there.
“Whatever happens,” Hades promises, “Persephone will be safe. I’ve made sure of it. If I die, she’ll be safe in the Underworld.”
Cyane’s turquoise eyes make Hades’ cold, dead heart flip. So like Persephone’s. He’d do anything to gaze at his true love one more time.
“Men,” Cyane says as she stands up. “Persephone never loved anyone but you. She’ll never love anyone else but you and none of us will be safe with Narcissus in charge, especially those of us who are supporting you. Finish him and live, Hades. I would not wish the pain and misery of losing the love of your life on anyone.”
Roars go up from the crowd. Feet stamp until the ground shudders under Hades’ feet. Cyane runs to the edge of the pavilion and peers out.
“At last.” Her voice is a growl. “Narcissus has graced us with his presence.”
Climbing to his feet, Hades slams his helmet back on and walks to Cyane. A white, armor-suited figure with a golden helmet covering the face stands in the center of the arena. A sun, the symbol of Summer, sits in the middle of the breastplate.
It’s the traditional armor of Summer, last worn by Kronos Demeter, and belongs to the ruling family. Persephone’s family. Narcissus has no right to wear it and of all the things he has done to the Demeters, this will be the final one.
The Pretender of Summer raises his hands above his head, then performs a sweeping bow to the rapturous crowd. Flowers rain down on him and he picks them up, blowing kisses and waving to his supporters.
“What a poser.” Thanatos touches a hand to Hades’ breastplate. It reduces Hades’ heat level to semi-bearable. “A little boost. Use it well and go put him in his place. Time is running out, brother.”
Hades knows. He can feel it in the softer flesh that now covers his bones and the way his feet shuffle rather than glide onto the sand of the arena. Boos rise up, as he walks out to face his challenger, a roar of disgust from a crowd braying for his blood.
The crack of sound as Hades clashes his bident and long dagger together, silences the crowd. Pointing the dagger at Narcissus, he bellows. “I am Hades, King of the Underworld, Lord of Winter, and husband to Persephone, the rightful heir to the Land of Summer. I answer your call for her blood with my own. Narcissus Summer, I accept your challenge to fight to the death on her behalf.”
At Persephone’s name, a few cheers go up. Narcissus’ head snaps around until they quiet down to low murmurings and finally, silence. Sauntering toward Hades, Narcissus raises his gold-hilted sword. He doesn’t say a word before he attacks with a clumsy thrust.
Hades answers with a vengeance. Catching Narcissus’ sword with his bident, Hades drives the Pretender backward. Narcissus’s feet slide on the sand and he staggers.
Narcissus twists sideways and takes three jerky steps before regaining his balance. Bringing the sword up, it wavers in Narcissus’ hands. A flicker of disappointment registers. Hades had expected more from the man who defeated Kronos Demeter in the arena.
Hades pushes the thought away. It is not his place to question the abilities of his opponent. Time is pressing and the sun is still reigning. He’s here to finish this and needs to do it quickly.
Attacking with a fury, Hades slams and slashes his bident, driving Narcissus to his knees. The Pretender puts his hand up for mercy, but Hades has none. He thrusts the long dagger into Narcissus’ neck until blood blooms.
“I release you,” Hades hisses. “No mercy will be given to you in my domain. May you find the peace in death that you never found nor gave in life.”
Hades strikes quick and fast across the neck. Narcissus’ headless body pitches forward, his blood pools out on the sand changing the color from golden to rust. Taking the head, Hades holds the helmet aloft and turns in a circle to the muted crowd.
“The challenge has been asked and answered.” Hades drops the head on the ground. “I claim these Lands on behalf of my wife, Persephone.”
Hades starts the eternal walk back to his pavilion. The process of bringing his body temperature back from the red zone will be arduous. At least a season in Winter, but Hades allows himself a sense of satisfaction. He’s done it. Rid Persephone of the danger hanging over her head. She will be free to return to her Lands in peace.
Hades thought this was going to be a one-way ticket, even prepared himself for it. The last order he gave Cerberus was to muster the Night Army if he fell and bring his body back to the Underworld. But he survived.
The crowd roars behi
nd him, a rumble of noise that sets Cerberus prowling and growling from inside the pavilion. Turning, Hades is met by the sight of the army lining up in a Phalanx. They march forward in a precise wave, three deep with shiny shields and long spears.
Four soldiers break from the formation struggling with a large rectangle object covered by a sheet of white. Placing it on the ground, two soldiers hunch down until it’s upright and then angle it. The sheet is ripped off and Hades is met with a mirror launching the force of a thousand suns.
The blinding light drives Hades to his knees. His obsidian armor cracks along the breastplate in ominous tones. His head rings and his vision swims. The Helm of Darkness saves him from complete blindness, but only just.
Understanding drops in pieces and then all at once. The head on the sand isn’t Narcissus’. It was another sacrifice to wear out his energy until the Pretender would have the power to kill him.
Screaming roars and chants go up. Hades shakes his head to clear his vision, but blind spots are in his eyes and won’t move. He has enough sight to see his nemesis in the middle of the arena.
Narcissus stands with a shining suit of armor. He holds a sun spear in his right hand and a mirror shield that magnifies the light in his left. Throwing his arms wide, the Pretender turns in a slow circle.
“Did you enjoy the entertainment?” Narcissus points a gauntlet-covered hand at Hades. “Let’s give this interloper a real Summer welcome.”
The shield catches the sun and Narcissus points the beam directly at Hades. He rolls, but he’s a misstep off the pace. Light hits him in the side and his armor cracks, obsidian falling in chunks and debris.
Light burns along Hades’ exposed body. Pain sears, leaving a ribbon of blisters against his white Winter skin. He stamps his bident in the ground and hauls himself up, but his hands and legs are sluggish.
Narcissus kicks Hades in his exposed chest. He flies backward and lands in the burning sand. His gloves scrape for purchase, but none can be found.
“You shouldn’t be here, brother.” Thanatos swims into Hades’ vision. “Get up.”
