Persephone screamed and dropped the torch. She quickly snatched it up again before it could roll through the bars into the cell, afraid of what any disruption to the cell boundary might do to the fragile powers that kept this place functioning.

The creature—Titan—laughed, his bony chest shuddering with each exhalation. He was clad only in a loincloth, dirt, and ichor, though his dark beard reached almost to his waist.

“Which one are you then, girl? And speak up. My ears aren’t what they used to be.”

“I’m called Persephone,” she said, grateful that her voice did not quaver. “Born of Demeter and Zeus.”

“Zeus... I should’ve torn his head off before swallowing. Crunched his bones to dust.”

Persephone shuddered. This thing, this creature, was her grandfather, Kronos?

“Ah... don’t look at me like that, girl. I was once a handsome brute, revered among men. Tell me, what do they say of me, up in the overworld?”

She could not help but pity him, tortured and reduced as he was. “They say you ruled over a golden age of mankind.”

He grinned with a mouth full of broken teeth. “Golden... yes. When the air was sweet and the world new and honey dripped from the trees.” He moved his jaw, as though recalling the taste of it. “Do you have any?”

“Honey?” Persephone’s brow creased. “No. I’m sorry.”

“Wine? Water?” When she shook her head, Kronos scowled. “What good are you, then? You reek of Hades. All the attar in Aigyptos could not mask her stench on you. Mayhap you could tell her to make my stay here a little more comfortable. It’s been long enough.”

Persephone fought the urge to sniff at her garments, though her cheeks flushed. “I’ll ask.”

“Ask!” Kronos screeched, loud enough that Persephone winced. “Ask, she says, like a lapdog and not the proud scion of Kronos that she ought to be.” He stared down at her, his eyes half-lidded. “Did Zeus tire of you and throw you like a bone to poor venereous Hades?”

Persephone stiffened. “He would never! Zeus had nothing to do with this,” she said, though she wondered if that were the case. Hades had been adamant she’d secured his approval, at least.

Kronos shifted a little on the rack, his chains clanking. “But you are a prisoner here. The same as me,” he said, his mouth opening in a wide grin.

Persephone grasped the bars of his cell and pressed her face against them. “We are nothing alike,” she said. “When Hades grows weary of me, I’ll be free.”

Kronos stared at her, the whites of his eyes large and luminous in the dim light. Then he broke into a raucous, braying laugh, so loud Persephone took a step back and looked nervously to check for anyone approaching.

“Stop that,” she said. “You’ll summon a guardsperson.”