She left, and Parvani once again found herself alone and bitter, not even the shadows coming in to comfort her.

Her jaw tightened as she looked out one of the archways. Fine, then; if Hades would not help her, she would find a way to avenge Ranya herself.

She wore her anger like armor as she wandered into the mist.

“Wayward girls shouldn’t wander,” Ranya would whisper at night as they sat under the protection of a blanket lit from within by the irregular glow of an earthen lantern. “They’re hunted, snatched up, and never seen again. There are things that grab them in the dark and never let go.”

This time, Parvani was the one who would do the hunting.

She walked barefoot through the asphodel, past the chalky valley, down into the catacombs of her new domain. Strange that she should be considered queen of a place she hardly knew.

Wayward girls were snatched up even if they didn’t wander. Hajan had an appetite for war, wine, and women, and his son was no better. More girls than Ranya had gone missing in the past year. Parvani liked to think they had escaped the city, rather than imaging the numerous other fates that could have befallen them in a territory turned to decay.

Parvani followed the sound of water. There were rustles in the shadows, under cave awnings and between columns of overgrown crystal. Who else lived in the Netherworld? She tried to remember the stories. It was said to be not only the home of spirits, but some lesser gods as well: the Bringer of Night and her children, Dusk and Dawn. The Lord of Memory. The Maiden of Songs.

She wished she could remember her own gods. But Hajan had burned all the texts long ago, converting temples to armories and pleasure houses.

Parvani found a river, the sluggish waters gray. A bend up ahead curved into an open space studded with barren, ashy trees.

The longer she walked beside the river, the heavier she felt, until some of the cold water splashed up onto her ankle. An unspeakable pressure grew beneath her breastbone. It was the feeling of letting go of someone’s hand, the sting of being forgotten, the ache of losing something irretrievable. Tears fell from her eyes, and they somehow seemed to roll toward the river, becoming part of its somber current.

Get away from this place.

She staggered as far from the water as she could, crossing a threshold of loamy rocks that rose into craggy hills. It was almost like exploring the terrain outside the city, but with no sun to warm her back. Parvani was breathing harder by the time the landscape shifted yet again, this time into an orchard of sky-black trees with star-silver leaves. Through the dark shapes of twisting branches she spotted another river, ice caps floating on its surface.