Hajan’s lips trembled. He laughed haltingly. “See? See! I am ruler. Me. I will not—you will not—make me—”

Shadows in the corner of the room grew darker. They coalesced into the forms of three dark-skinned women, the gold on their skin gleaming like malevolent eyes. They walked on soundless feet, surrounding Hajan. Hajan looked between them, teeth bared.

“You will not take me! You cannot!”

The Furies closed in. They grabbed Hajan as he began to scream, his voice raising to a sharp, terrified pitch as the shadows swirled and consumed them. All that was left was a flare of sparks, and a scorch mark where Hajan had stood.

Parvani thought of that dark, fire-spewing pit and shuddered.

She stepped away, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes. There was a hesitant touch on her arm.

“It is what you wanted,” Hades reminded her.

Was it? She had wanted a solution, to rescue her people, to avenge Ranya. The possibility of a brighter future.

“This is not solely your doing,” Hades went on. “He is responsible for his actions. The Furies knew that. They wouldn’t have come for him otherwise.”

They punish those on earth who have committed grievous wrong. That’s what Hades had told her. Parvani lowered her hands and met Hades’s eyes. They were soft in their understanding.

“I feel wicked,” Parvani said softly.

Hades smoothed back some of her hair, tucking it behind an ear. “It’s all right to feel wicked sometimes, so long as you don’t remain so. Sometimes a field must burn before it grows wheat.”

Those words stayed with her for days as she wandered the Netherworld in a fugue. Suddenly it didn’t look so beautiful or bright, but that was because she felt so ugly inside, so poisoned with vengeance. It was no longer a pale word within her, but a stark, ragged scar.

Ranya, I’m sorry. Is this what you would have wanted?

But Ranya couldn’t answer. Her soul was already in the furthest reaches of the Netherworld, where Parvani couldn’t follow.

She stood at the shore of the river of forgetfulness, debating whether or not to take a sip, to let herself be taken. But she never again wanted to feel the gray slush gripping her ankles, those skeletal hands of ice dragging her down to a silent place that wasn’t meant for the living. It had been a world frozen over, without breath or thought or memory. A world without meaning.

If she was going to be a part of this world, she wanted to give it meaning.

She had burned the field. It was time to grow her wheat.

As winter began to melt away, Parvani asked Hades a question. The god hesitated, then agreed and accepted her kiss. Their bed that night was warm and filled with the soft, restless sounds of two worlds merging.