“I won’t let you take her.”

“If there were another way—”

“There is another way and it involves you leaving.” She pushed him a little. “Get out.”

She spoke quietly at first, not wanting to draw attention, but when he didn’t move, she said it again—firm this time, the words slipping through her teeth.

“I said get out!”

She pushed him harder and he held up his hands, backing away.

“This isn’t something you can prevent, Persephone. My work is tied to the Fates. Once they cut her thread…I have to collect.”

She hated those words, and they set her off in a way she never imagined.

“Get out!” she yelled. “Get out! Get out! Get out!”

Thanatos vanished, and Persephone was suddenly surrounded by nurses and a security guard. They were questioning and directing, and the words filled her head to bursting.

“Ma’am, is everything alright?”

“Maybe you should have a seat.”

“I’ll get some water.”

Pain formed at the front of her head. Despite the nurse trying to direct her to a chair, she broke free.

“I need to check on Lexa,” she said, but when she tried to return to the ICU area, the security guard blocked her.

“You need to listen to the nurses,” he said.

“But my friend—”

“I’ll get an update on your friend,” he said.

Persephone wanted to protest. There was no time. What if Thanatos had teleported to her room and taken her to the Underworld? Suddenly, the doors opened from the inside, and Persephone leapt at the chance, pushing past the guard, she took off at run for Lexa’s room and promptly vanished.

Being teleported to another realm without warning felt like being in a vacuum. Suddenly, it was harder to breath, her body felt void of moisture, and her ears popped painfully. The symptoms lasted a few seconds before she was overpowered by the scent of Hades’ magic, burning her nose like frost.

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she realized she’d been deposited in Hades’ throne room. It was always dark despite the hazy light that filtered in through slanted windows overhead. Hades sat upon his throne—a glassy piece of obsidian that was both artistic and monstrous. She could see nothing of the god but a slash of his beautiful face, illuminated by red light.

She could guess why Hades had brought her here—to prevent her from interfering with Thanatos’ work, to lecture her once again about how they could not interfere in Lexa’s life, but she didn’t want to hear it.

She tried to gather her magic and teleport, knowing it was in vain—Hades was far more liberal in revoking any rights she had to leave the Underworld while he was angry.

And he was angry.

She could feel his frustration, it built between them, making the air tangible.