A Touch of Chaos

Book 7: Hades x Persephone Saga

by Scarlett St. Clair

Genres: Fairy Tales, Folk Tales, Legends & Mythology; Romantic Fantasy; Fantasy Romance

Synopsis

The gods are at war, the Titans have been released, and Hades and Persephone must fight tooth and nail for their happy ending.

Persephone, Goddess of Spring, never guessed that a chance encounter with Hades, God of the Underworld, would change her life forever--but he did. Now embroiled in a fight for humanity and battles between the gods, Persephone and Hades have entered a world they never thought they would see. To end the chaos, Persephone must draw upon her darkness and embrace who she's become--goddess, wife, queen of the Underworld.

Once, Persephone made bargains to save those she loves. Now, she will go to war for them.

Release date: March 12, 2024

Publisher: Bloom Books

Print pages: 464

Sample

CHAPTER I

PERSEPHONE

Persephone’s ears rang, and the Underworld trembled violently beneath her feet.

She was reeling from Hecate’s words.

That is the sound of Theseus releasing the Titans.

Theseus, a son of Poseidon, a man she had met in passing only once, had managed to tear her life apart in a matter of hours. It had begun with the abduction of Sybil and Harmonia and spiraled from there. Now Zofie and Demeter were dead, the Helm of Darkness was gone, and Hades was missing.

She wasn’t even sure that was the right word, but the fact was that she had not seen him since she’d left him in her office at Alexandria Tower, bridled by her magic. The look on his face as he’d watched her leave still haunted her, but there had been no other option. He wouldn’t have let her go, and she wasn’t going to let Hades face an eternity of punishment for not granting a favor.

But something was wrong, because Hades had not come for her, and he was not here now as their realm was being torn apart.

Another tremor rocked the Underworld, and Persephone looked at Hecate, who stood opposite her, eyes dark and face drawn.

“We have to go,” Hecate said.

“Go?” Persephone echoed.

“We have to stop the Titans,” Hecate said. “As much as we are able.”

Persephone just stared. The Goddess of Witchcraft was a Titan herself. She might be able to fight the elder gods, but Persephone had only just managed to go up against her Olympian mother.

“Hecate, I can’t—” she began, shaking her head, but Hecate took her face between her hands.

“You can,” she said, her eyes peering straight to her soul. “You must.”

You have no choice.

Persephone heard what Hecate did not say, though she knew the goddess was right. This went beyond protecting her realm.

It was about protecting the world.

She pushed aside her doubt, growing fierce in her determination to prove she was worthy of the crown and title she had been given.

“Oh, my dear,” Hecate said, dropping her hands from her face and twining her fingers with Persephone’s. “It isn’t a question of worth.”

It was all she said before her magic flared in a powerful burst and teleported them to the Asphodel Fields. Despite the destruction Persephone had witnessed when she had faced the Olympians outside Thebes, she’d still not managed to imagine what the Titans could do to her realm, but the reality was devastating.

The mountains of Tartarus once rose and fell steeply like the waves of an angry sea. Despite their use and the horror they contained, they were beautiful—a dark and jagged shadow set against the muted horizon.

Now they were nearly leveled, as if crushed beneath the feet of a giant, and the sky was split, an angry wound open to the world above.

Something had already escaped the Underworld.

The ground shook, and a massive hand shot out from the depths of Tartarus, sending an explosion of rocks flying across the land. The head of a Titan emerged from the prison, and he gave a roaring cry. The sound was deafening and just as destructive, shattering nearby peaks as if they were nothing but glass.

Persephone recalled what Hades had said about the Titans. Since they were not dead, only imprisoned, they retained all their powers.

“Iapetus,” Hecate said, her voice almost a hiss. “He is Cronos’s brother and God of Immortality.” Hecate met her gaze. “I’ll take him. You must seal the sky.”

Persephone nodded, though her mind scrambled to understand exactly what that meant. She had yet to use the magic she had been granted upon marrying Hades.

Hecate teleported first and appeared in the air over Iapetus’s head. Suddenly, there were three of her, all surrounding the God of Immortality, and from her hands sprang black flames that she funneled in a burning stream toward the Titan. Iapetus’s roar of anger vibrated the air as her magic struck.

With him distracted, Persephone called to the darkness within her, reaching for the feelings that had fueled her destruction of the Underworld when she had stumbled upon Hades and Leuce in the Forest of Despair. Recalling that time made her feel stretched and raw. Though what she had witnessed had not been real, the emotions still shuddered through her. From that anguish, her power bloomed, a force that called to the roots of the Upperworld above her. They broke through the darkened sky like serpents twining together, sealing the open chasm.

A sense of relief flooded her, and her attention turned to Hecate, who was still engaged with Iapetus. Now Persephone could focus on trapping the Titan within his mountainous prison, but something hard struck her, and she flew through the air. When she landed, she rolled to the very edge of Asphodel where the field dropped into a valley.

Persephone drew in a deep and haggard breath, though her lungs felt frozen in her chest, and rose onto her hands and knees, coming face-to-face with a monster—a creature with three heads, those of a lion, a goat, and a snake.

The lion roared in her face, lips peeling back from sharp teeth. The goat opened its mouth and breathed a noxious fire that singed the air. The snake shot forward rapidly but was not close enough to strike with its venomous fangs.

The creature was a chimera, a haphazard mix of animals, all dangerous to some degree, and it had escaped from Tartarus.

“Fuck.”

The monster pounced, and Persephone scrambled back, forgetting how close she was to the edge of the valley. She fell, tumbling over the side, hitting the unyielding, grassy earth.

She teleported and managed to land on her ass at the bottom of the meadow. She glared up at the chimera, which roared at her from above, and was surprised when another roar came from behind her. Persephone turned to find another chimera looming. Two others approached, flanking the monster.

She stumbled back as a shadow passed over her head. The first chimera had jumped from the cliff and joined the fray, slowly encroaching on what little space she had left.

“Why are there so many of you?” she muttered, frustrated as her eyes slid from creature to creature, assessing.

Suddenly a large pomegranate struck the goat head protruding from the back of one of the chimeras. It whipped its head to the side, breathing fire on an angry bellow, and set the creature beside it aflame. A horrible screech escaped its mouth, and it crashed to the ground, rolling in the thick grass, but the flames only seemed to spread.

More pomegranates followed the first one, raining down on the monsters. As they turned to face their new attackers, Persephone saw that the souls had gathered in a huge crowd. The first row were women and elders with baskets of fruit. Yuri was among them, and while Persephone’s heart rose at the sight of her people, her delight quickly turned to horror as the chimera stalked toward them.

She had no idea what would happen to the dead when faced with a threat in their realm, but she did not wish to find out.

As she watched, however, the second row of souls came forward—armed men and women. Ian was in the lead, and he called out orders as the chimera approached.

“Go for their necks!” he said. “Their throats are made of fire and will melt your weapons and choke them to death.”

While three of the chimeras charged toward the gathered souls, one turned toward Persephone. The lion bared its teeth while the goat’s eyes reddened with fire. The snake reared, readying to strike. She backed away as the creature took one predatory step after another toward her, and just as it was about to attack, the wide jaws of its three heads unhinging, she teleported. She had every intention of summoning her magic, of trapping the creature in a bramble of thorns, but as soon as she appeared behind the chimera, a massive creature barreled into it. It took Persephone a moment to realize what had attacked—a three-headed dog.

Not just any three-headed dog—Cerberus, Typhon, and Orthrus.

She had never seen them in their singular form, but Hades had spoken of it. “Cerberus is a monster,” he’d said. “Not an animal.”

Sometimes Cerberus existed as one, sometimes he existed as three, and he seemed to have tripled in size, towering over her as he tossed the chimera into the air. It landed some distance away and did not move again. Cerberus turned toward Persephone, his large body wiggling at the sight of her.

“Cerberus—”

Her words were cut short when a sharp crack drew her attention to the mountainous horizon where Hecate was still battling Iapetus. The Titan’s massive hands had managed to slip between the mighty roots Persephone had summoned to seal off the sky, and with one quick jerk, they tore free. A few terrified screams erupted from the souls gathered in the meadow as splintered wood rained down across the Underworld.

More of the mountains gave way beneath the impact of the falling roots. A keen and angry wail followed as seven snakelike heads emerged from the crumbling depths of Tartarus. Persephone’s blood ran cold, recognizing the bulbous frame of the Hydra.

“Fuck!”

She’d only had a modicum of control over this situation before, and now she had none.

“Looks like you’re in a pickle, Sephy.”

She looked to her left where Hermes had manifested in all his golden glory, still dressed in armor from their encounter with the Olympians. She had lost track of him on the battlefield, but he had been one of the first to stand with her and against Zeus—he and Apollo.

The familiar scent of earthy laurel drew Persephone’s attention, and she turned to see the God of Music on her right. He looked stoic and calm and offered a small smile.

“Hey, Seph,” he said.

She smiled back. “Hey, Apollo.”

“Rude,” said Hermes. “I didn’t get a greeting.”

“Hi, Hermes,” she said, looking back at him.

He scoffed. “It doesn’t mean anything if I have to point it out.”

She grinned and burst into tears at the same time, overwhelmed with gratitude by their presence.

“Don’t cry, Sephy,” said Hermes. “It was just a joke.”

“She isn’t crying over your stupid joke,” Apollo snapped.

“Oh? And you know her so well?”

“He isn’t wrong, Hermes,” Persephone said, wiping at her eyes quickly. “I’m just…really glad you are both here.”

Hermes’s expression softened, but their attention was soon drawn to Tartarus again when the Hydra roared and launched itself from the peak upon which it was poised, landing in the Forest of Despair. Trees snapped beneath its massive body as if they were nothing but twigs. The monster’s heads whipped about, slinging its poisonous venom. It landed across the Underworld like a deadly rain, burning and blackening whatever it touched, including a chimera whose horrid wail filled the air as the poison burned the creature to death.

At the same time, Iapetus had managed to free himself further, and now his entire head was exposed, down to his wide shoulders. His face was thin and his eyes sunken and angry, gleaming as if filled with fire. He looked wicked and unkind, and while Persephone had expected nothing different from the Titan who had been locked away for centuries, it was another thing to be faced with the sharp force of his fury.

Persephone could feel Hecate’s ancient magic rush over her, as if she were drawing energy from everything within the Underworld. It raised the hair on her arms and the back of her neck, stole the moisture from her tongue. Then Hecate released her power in a great burst. Iapetus folded beneath its weight, his head striking the mountains, but Persephone knew it was not enough.

“We have to get them back into Tartarus,” Persephone said.

“We’ll work on that,” said Hermes. “You worry about that massive hole in the sky.”

They must have sensed her doubt because Apollo added, “You’ve got this, Seph. You are Queen of the Underworld.”

“The one and only,” said Hermes. “That we know of.”

Persephone and Apollo glared.

“It’s just a joke,” Hermes whined.

Apollo sighed and took a few steps forward. His bow materialized in his hand, his quiver on his back. “Let’s go, Hermes.”

The God of Mischief took a step and then twisted to face Persephone. “If it helps at all,” he said, “there is no one else.”

She knew what he meant. No one else could trap the Titans or contain the monsters in Tartarus. No one else could mend the broken sky.

That was power granted to the King and Queen of the Underworld.

It was either Hades or it was her, and Hades was not here.

His absence made her chest ache, though she knew it was not time to agonize over what had befallen him since she’d last seen him. She had to deal with what was before her first, and the sooner she was able to contain this threat, the sooner she could find her husband.

Hermes’s wings unfurled behind him, and he launched himself into the air before bolting across the realm to the Hydra with Apollo in tow.

Persephone teleported to the edge of the Asphodel Fields. Alone, she took a moment to observe the chaos.

She had often been aware of her faults but never so much as she was at this very moment. The mountains of Tartarus were nothing more than piles of rubble, the beauty of Hades’s magic was marred by patches of scorched and smoking earth from the Hydra’s venom, the air smelled like burning flesh, and amid all this, the souls still fought the chimeras. Hermes wielded his golden sword against the Hydra while Apollo sent rays of blinding light to cauterize the wounds and prevent the heads from regenerating. Iapetus continued to rock the Underworld, fighting beneath Hecate’s magic.

Persephone took a breath and closed her eyes. As she did, she felt the world around her go quiet. Nothing seeped into her space save her anger, her pain, her worry. Her ears rang with it, her heart pumped with it, and she used it to draw on the darker part of her magic. It was the part of her that ached, the part of her that raged, the part of her that no longer believed the world was wholly good.

“You are my wife and my queen.”

Hades’s voice echoed in her mind. It sent chills down her spine and cradled her heart. The sound brought tears to her eyes and made her chest feel tight, stealing the air from her lungs.

“You are everything that makes me good,” he said. “And I am everything that makes you terrible.”

She swallowed the thickness that had gathered in her throat. Before, she would have balked at those words, but now she understood the power in being feared.

And she wanted to be dreaded.

“Where are you?” she asked, desperate for him to manifest at her side where he belonged, but the longer she remained alone, the darker her energy became.

“Waiting to carry you through the dark if you will bring me to the light.”

Her heart felt so heavy, a weight in her chest.

“I need you,” she whispered.

“You have me,” he said. “There is no part where you end or I begin. Use me, darling, as you have for your pleasure. There is power in this pain.”

And there was pain.

It radiated through her, a bone-deep sorrow that had become so much a part of her that it almost seemed normal. She could not remember who she was before the hollow ache of grief had carved a spot in her heart.

“You are more now that I am gone,” said Lexa.

Persephone squeezed her eyes shut against her best friend’s cruel words, though she knew they were true. Strange that life granted power in the face of loss, stranger yet that the person who would be most proud was not here to witness it.

“I know your truth,” Lexa said. “I do not need to witness it.”

Something cut through Persephone then, a pain so deep she could not contain it, and when her eyes opened, her vision was sharpened from the glow of her eyes. Her power waited, obedient to her will, a flame wreathing her body. For a moment, everything stilled, and she felt Hades’s presence as if he had come up behind her and wrapped a possessive arm around her waist.

“Feed it,” he commanded, and with his warm breath on her ear, she screamed.

Her anguish became a real and living thing as her power gathered around her. It flooded the Underworld, darkening the sky. Shadows flew from the palms of her hands, turning into solid spears, impaling the chimeras and the Hydra. A cacophony of shrill screams and pained roars filled the air, and it fueled her, made her dig deeper until the earth began to tremble and the ground beneath the Hydra and the mountains of Tartarus turned dark and liquid. Thick tendrils shot out from the pool, latching onto the Hydra’s large, clawed feet and what remained of its heads, dragging the monster down into its depths until its screams were suddenly silenced.

Her magic rose in dark waves over Iapetus too, aided by Hecate, whose power drove the Titan farther into his cell in the mountains, though he fought against it, arms stretched out, reaching for the still-open sky. Her darkness continued to climb, matting his hair and blinding his eyes, spilling into his open mouth. He wailed in anger until his throat was full and he could no longer speak, and when he was covered, the magic hardened, and the mountains of Tartarus shone like glistening obsidian against the dark horizon.

From the tallest peak, which was the tip of Iapetus’s hand, now frozen in hard stone, her magic continued to build, mending the broken sky, and when it was finished, she dropped her hands, and her magic reeled back, ricocheting through her. She trembled but remained on her feet. She felt something wet on her face, and when she reached to touch her mouth, she found blood.

She frowned.

“Sephy, you were amazing!” Hermes said as he appeared before her. He swept her into a tight hug. Despite the way his armor dug into her body, she welcomed his embrace.

When he set her on her feet, it was before Apollo, Hecate, and Cerberus, who was still fused into a large three-headed monster. He ambled forward and nuzzled her hand gently, all three sets of jowls dripping with saliva and blood.

She didn’t care and stroked each of the heads anyway.

“Good boys,” she said. “Very good boys.”

In the meadow below, the souls cheered. Their enthusiasm would normally lift her heart, but instead, she felt dread.

Would her magic hold? Could she keep them safe?

Her gaze shifted to the horizon and the strange tower that now connected the mountains of Tartarus to the sky. She had no idea how she’d created it, but she knew what had fed her magic. She could still feel those emotions echoing inside her.

“I like it,” said Hermes. “It’s art. We’ll call it…Iapetus’s reckoning.”

Persephone thought it looked more like a scar, a blight on Hades’s kingdom, but perhaps he would fix it when he came home.

Something thick gathered in the back of her throat, and she couldn’t swallow. She turned to look at everyone, searching each face as if one of them might hold the answer to her greatest question.

“Where is Hades?” she asked.

CHAPTER II

HADES

The burn in his wrists woke him. The headache splitting his skull made opening his eyes nearly impossible, but he tried, groaning, his thoughts scattering like glass. He had no ability to pick at the pieces, to recall how he had gotten here, so he focused instead on the pain in his body—the metal digging into the raw skin on his wrists, the way his nails pierced his palm, the way his fingers throbbed from being curled into themselves when they should be coiled around Persephone’s ring.

The ring. It was gone.

Hysteria built inside him, a fissure that had him straining against his manacles, and he finally tore open his eyes to find that he was restrained in a small, dark cell. As he dangled from the ceiling, body draped in the same heavy net that had sent him to the ground in the Minotaur’s prison, he knew he was not alone.

He stared into the darkness, uneasy, aware that whatever magic existed there was his own, and yet it felt somehow foreign, likely because though he called to it, he could not summon it.

“I know you’re there,” Hades said. His tongue felt swollen in his mouth.

In the next second, Theseus appeared, having pulled the Helm of Darkness from his head. He cradled the weapon in his arm, smirking.

“Theseus,” Hades growled, though even to him, his voice sounded weak. He was so tired and so full of pain, he could not vocalize the way he wished. Otherwise, he would rage.

“I’d hoped to make a more dramatic entrance,” said the demigod, his aqua eyes gleaming. Hades hated those eyes, so like Poseidon’s. “But you always were a killjoy.”

Dread tightened Hades’s chest though he worked not to show a single ounce of fear. He hated that he even felt the threat of such an emotion in the presence of Theseus, but he had to know how the demigod had come into possession of his helm.

“How did you get it?”

“Your wife led me right to it,” Theseus said. “I told you I only needed to borrow her.”

Hades had many questions, but he asked the most pressing.

“Where is she?” he demanded.

“I must confess, I lost track of her,” Theseus said airily, as if he had not been in possession of the thing Hades loved most in this world.

He jerked forward. He wanted to wrap his hands around Theseus’s neck and squeeze until he felt his bones break beneath his hands, but the weight of the net made movement nearly impossible. It was as if he were suffocating instead. His chest heaved as he worked to catch his breath.

Theseus chuckled and Hades glared at him, his eyes watering from exertion. He had never felt so weak. In truth, he had never been this weak.

“Last time I saw her, she was fighting her mother in the Underworld. I wonder who won.”

“I will kill you, Theseus,” Hades said. “That is an oath.”

“I have no doubt you will try, though I think you will have a difficult time given your current state.”

Hades’s rage ignited, burning him from the inside out, but he could do nothing—not move or summon his power.

This, he thought, must be what it is like to be mortal. It was terrible.

Theseus smirked and then held up the helm, studying it.

“This is an intriguing weapon,” he said. “It made it entirely too easy to enter Tartarus.”

“It sounds like you wish to boast, Theseus,” said Hades, glaring. “So why don’t you get it over with?”

“It is not boasting at all,” Theseus replied. “I am paying you a courtesy.”

“By breaking into my realm?”

“By letting you know that I have released your father from Tartarus.”

“My father?” Hades repeated, unable to keep the surprise from his voice. He could not describe exactly how he felt, only that this news left him feeling numb. If he’d had the energy to move, it would have stopped him in his tracks.

His father, Cronos, God of Time, was free, wandering the Upperworld after nearly five millennia locked away. Cronos, the man who had envied his own father’s rule and took him down with a scythe that had recently resurfaced in the black market. The man who had feared the fated uprising of his children so much that he had swallowed them whole as they were born.

It was Zeus who had freed them from that horrible and dark prison, and when they had emerged, they had been fully grown and full of wrath. Even now, Hades could recall how he’d felt, the way anger had moved through his body, the way vengeance had crowded his mind, fed every thought. After they’d succeeded in overthrowing the Titans, those feelings followed him, bleeding into every aspect of his reign and rule.

It did not seem like so long ago.

“I do not know who else managed to escape with him,” Theseus said. “I must confess, I had to leave, but we are sure to find out in the coming days.”

“You imbecile,” Hades seethed, his voice quiet. “Do you know what you have done?”

It was not as if Cronos had been asleep for the last five thousand years. He’d spent all his time in Tartarus conscious and planning revenge just as Hades was doing now. He worried over what his father would do first with his freedom. His thoughts turned to his mother, Rhea.

Rhea, who had tricked Cronos into swallowing a rock so that Zeus might live to overthrow him.

It was she who would receive Cronos’s wrath first. Hades was sure of it.

“Come on, Hades,” said Theseus. “We both know I do not make rash decisions. I have thought about this for a while.”

“And what exactly did you think? That you would release my father from Tartarus and he would be so indebted to you that he would join your cause?”

“I am under no such delusion,” said Theseus. “But I will use him as I imagine he will use me.”

“Use you?” Hades asked. “And what do you have to offer?”

Theseus grinned. It was an unsettling smile because it was so genuine.

“To start,” he said, “I have you.”

Hades stared for a moment. “So you will what? Give me as a sacrifice?”

“Well, yes,” Theseus said. “Cronos will need offerings to feed his power and strength. Who better than his son and a usurper too?”

“Your father was a usurper. Will you sacrifice him?”

“If the occasion calls for it,” Theseus said.

Hades was not surprised by the demigod’s answer. His honesty was also likely an indication of his belief that Hades would never leave this prison.

“What happens when you both decide the other must die?” he asked.

“I suppose it is good then that I am fated to overthrow the gods,” said Theseus.

Hades knew the demigod was referring to the prophecy of the ophiotaurus, a half-bull, half-serpent creature whose death assured victory against the gods.

Theseus had been the one to slay the monster, and he assumed that meant he would overthrow the Olympians, but the prophecy never specified how or whose victory would come about.

His arrogance would be his downfall, but Hades was not about to argue. Theseus could face the consequences of his hubris, as all inevitably did.

“You are not even invincible. Do you think you can win against the gods?”

Perhaps he should not have said it, but he wanted Theseus to know he knew his greatest weakness—that he could not heal like other gods. Dionysus had discovered as much when he was trapped on the island of Thrinacia. Hades wished more than anything that he could test it himself, and one day soon, he would.

Shadows darkened the lines on Theseus’s face, and an evil Hades had never seen before lurked behind his eyes. The demigod dropped the helm and drew a knife. Hades barely saw the gleaming blade before Theseus plunged it into his side. For a moment, his lungs felt locked, and he could not take in breath.

Theseus tilted his head up to meet Hades’s gaze, speaking between his teeth.

“Perhaps you can tell me what it’s like,” he said, twisting the blade before tearing it from Hades’s body.

Hades gritted his teeth against the pain, which was sharp and almost electric, radiating down his side. He refused to make a sound, to let the demigod know how he hurt.

Theseus raised the knife between them, stained with his blood. Hades recognized it as his father’s scythe. Part of it anyway. The end was missing, having been found in Adonis’s corpse after he’d been attacked outside La Rose. He had been the first victim of Theseus’s campaign against the Olympians, a sacrifice made to antagonize Aphrodite. Later, Hades would discover the Goddess of Love had been chosen as a target by Demeter for her influence over his relationship with Persephone. It was the price she’d asked for in exchange for use of her magic and relics.

“Well, look at that,” said Theseus. “You bleed like I bleed.” He took a step away as if to admire his work. “You would do well to remember that beneath that net, you are mortal.”

Hades had never been more aware as he struggled to breathe, his chest rising and falling sharply. He felt cold, his skin damp.

“You think you can make us all mortal?”

“Yes,” said Theseus. “Just as easily as I can become invincible.”

The demigod did not explain what he meant, but Hades could guess. There were only a few ways to become invincible in this world. One was through Zeus who, as King of the Gods, could grant invincibility. Another was to eat a golden apple from the Garden of the Hesperides, Hera’s orchard, and since the two had formed some kind of alliance, he assumed that was the avenue the demigod would take.

Theseus sheathed the bloody knife and then picked up the Helm of Darkness before reaching into his pocket to withdraw something small and silver. Hades’s heart squeezed at the sight of it.

“This is a beautiful ring,” Theseus said, holding it between his thumb and forefinger, twisting it so that even beneath the dim light, the gems glittered. Hades watched it, his stomach knotting with each movement. “Who would have guessed it would be your downfall?”

Theseus was wrong.

That ring was Hades’s hope even if he could not hold it, even if it was in the hand of his enemy.

“Persephone will come,” he said, certain. His voice was quiet, his eyes heavy.

“I know,” Theseus said, his fingers closing over the ring. He spoke with a dreadful glee that made Hades sick, though perhaps he was only feeling the weight of the net and his wound.

“She will be your ruin,” Hades said to the demigod, his chest tightening with the truth of those words.

“You would burn this world for me? I will destroy it for you,” she had said right before she had torn his realm apart in the name of a love she thought she had lost.

Theseus considered their love a weakness, but he would soon discover how wrong he was.