The box moved again, and Persephone yelped, falling once more to one side. The lid swung open, letting in a sliver of daylight.

Persephone reached for it, and her fingers touched grass. With renewed strength, she crawled toward the light.

Once she was free of the box, she climbed to her feet, blinking in the light. Something rolled toward her, and she glanced down to see a severed head, stopping just shy of her foot.

Persephone screamed at the sight of Pirithous’s glassy eyes, almost falling as she staggered back against the box in her haste to get away.

“A wedding gift, for my lady wife.”

Persephone tore her gaze away from Pirithous to see Hades standing before her, wearing a black chiton soaked through with blood all down the front, clinging wetly against her body. More blood coated the side of her face. She looked as vengeful as any of the Erinyes, her gaze haunting. She must have left the palace in a hurry, without donning any armor.

Hades beckoned her with a crimson hand. “Come here.”

Persephone looked down at Pirithous again. There was so much blood, soaking into the grass around them. The soil of a battlefield was always enriched by the life spilled upon it.

She went to Hades’ side, although her steps were halting. She could not bear to look at her.

“Did they hurt you?” Hades asked.

Persephone shook her head, then winced as the movement reminded her of how much she ached after having been trapped for so long. “I’m fine. You’re the one who’s injured,” she said, glancing at a cut on Hades’ arm.

“The ichor has spilled from your veins,” Hades said. She touched Persephone’s forehead, where it had matted her hair.

Persephone flinched. “I can’t feel it.”

Hades’ voice grew cooler. “I see. We had best return. Can you walk?”

Persephone nodded.

Around them lay the wreckage of the wagon. The horses must have become loose at some point. The wagon was overturned, its contents spilled around in an arc, pieces of broken pottery scattered everywhere.

Hades held her sword by her side. Mortal blood ran down its length, dripping onto the grass. Persephone felt each drop striking the earth as if they were falling upon her own skin. Hades pulled out a cloth and dried her sword before sheathing it at her hip.

They were not alone. Other members of Hades’ retinue had arrived with her, helping to lead the horses away or to salvage what had fallen from the wagon.

Two women spread a clean sheet over a pair of bodies, blood spreading quickly through the fabric like strange flowers blossoming.

Persephone stepped a little closer to Hades. “Is Theseus dead?” she asked.