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Pandora blinked blearily at her. “You’ll take me through?”
Mona nodded.
Pandora had no reason to trust Mona. But she was here. Even if she had nefarious plans, even if she intended to abandon Pandora and let her die, did it really matter?
With great effort, Pandora lifted her arm and took the moonstone from Mona’s grasp. It felt cool against her burning skin. She squeezed it so tightly that it dug into her palm, bringing a jolt of fresh pain.
She clung to that pain, using it to keep her awake and alert. Just for a bit longer.
If I die, then so be it, she thought grimly. But if I live, I swear I’ll be different. I’ll make different choices. Revenge be damned.
Mona’s hand was on her shoulder again, squeezing once to reassure her she wasn’t alone.
Pandora sat up, her head spinning, and pressed both hands to the moonstone. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and unleashed everything. Agony split through her, peeling back layer after layer, exposing the raw and festering parts of her. Still, she pushed, releasing her power, her rage, her thirst for revenge. Everything poured from her, filling the stone pressed between her hands. It grew hot in her grasp, but still she held on, even when it scorched her palm, even when the scent of burning flesh met her nose.
A flash of white light burst against her vision, blinding her. And then she was floating, her body weightless and empty. The pain was gone, and for the briefest of moments, she thought she had truly died.
Warm hands pressed into her, and the smell of the ocean mingled with roses, tickling her nostrils.
Mona.
Pandora’s eyes cracked open to find her sister holding her, clutching her against her chest. And then Evander was there, his arms encircling her. He smelled of pine and a cool river. His skin was tough, like the hide of an animal, but it wasn’t unpleasant. Pandora sank into him as he lifted her. Another flash of bright light seared through her, and the world shifted, spinning and tilting as the three of them stepped through the portal, leaving Elysium to its fate.
FRAGILE
CYRUS
Cyrus had to be dreaming. This couldn’t possibly be real.
Unless he was in Tartarus. And this was his eternal punishment.
The thought made him laugh with bitterness. It would serve him right, to be damned to an eternity as this weak, fragile thing.
He had no strength. No magic. No otherworldly senses.
Gods, it was pitiful.
“Cyrus, say something.”
He turned, squinting through his blurred vision. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness around him, he found an achingly familiar face peering at him, her wide, lavender eyes full of concern and relief.
“Prue?” Cyrus frowned. It wouldn’t be torture if his wife was here. That didn’t seem right at all.
Eyes narrowing, Cyrus surveyed his surroundings with more clarity. Gradually, awareness crept into his sluggish mind.
He was in the vault under the castle. To his left, in front of a still steaming cauldron, stood Lagos, his head tilted to one side as he scrutinized Cyrus. And behind Prue, standing with her hands clasped demurely before her, was Gaia, the goddess of the earth. He stiffened at the sight of her, his body flooding with awareness, ready for an attack.
“What the hell is she doing here?” he snapped, his voice louder than he’d intended. The last time he’d seen Gaia, he and Prue had been battling his brother, Vasileios, in the mortal realm. Gaia had been summoned to prove that Prue and Mona were the daughters of a deity.
And Prue had nearly destroyed her with her fury.
“It’s all right,” Prue said gently, grabbing his wrist and squeezing it reassuringly. “I summoned her. I… freed her, actually. She helped me bring you back.”
His brows knitted together. “Bring me back?”
“You were unconscious. Unresponsive. I—I was worried I’d lost you.” Darkness clouded Prue’s eyes, and she scowled at him. “What the hell were you thinking, casting a spell like that?”
Cyrus’s head reared back at the accusation in her tone. “You were dead, Prue! What would you have me do? What would you have done?”
