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Gaia’s eyebrows lifted, her mouth quirking in amusement. As if his anger was entertaining.
Cyrus rose to his feet, trying to ignore the way his body tilted or the heavy weight of his torso or the imbalance of his new form. Gods, it was abysmal. He hated every piece of this new, frail body. “I. Do. Not. Want. This.” His voice was quiet and lethal.
Gaia ignored him and turned to Prue, placing a hand on each of her shoulders. “My darling daughter,” she whispered, her expression soft and full of adoration. “Words cannot express my gratitude for what you have done for me. It is far greater than I deserve.” She kissed Prue’s forehead and drew back a step. “I wish I could stay.”
Prue blinked at her. “You’re leaving?”
“Pandora’s magic will find me. I cannot bring the darkness here. The realm has suffered enough.” She fixed a proud smile on Prue. “But I’m confident you can rebuild it.”
Prue grasped Gaia’s hand, her voice tinged with desperation. “Don’t leave, Mama. We can face Pandora. We are powerful enough to stand against her.” Her eyes slid to Cyrus briefly, and his nostrils flared.
“We?” he repeated with a harsh laugh. “There is no we, Prue. I am nothing but a weak human, thanks to you. I have no power, so I don’t think I’ll be standing against anyone, least of all alongside you.”
Gaia scoffed and waved her hand. “You may as well just kill him, Prudence. He is not worth your time.”
“Mama,” Prue hissed, her venomous eyes still fixed on Cyrus, but they were flaring with a new emotion: hurt. Cyrus tried to ignore what that emotion did to him, but he couldn’t. It twisted his insides, making him feel even more wretched.
But the bitterness within him only grew. He couldn’t stop it. Each passing moment only made him angrier, and despite the logical side of him urging him to remain silent, a powerful impulse had him speaking again.
“Death is preferable to this,” he sneered. “You took my life away, Prue. Everything I once was is gone. Because of you.”
Tears glistened in her eyes even as she glared at him.
Lagos drew forward, finally entering the conversation. “Perhaps we should leave Cyrus to process the situation. Let him get accustomed to his new vessel. I fear if the situation escalates, one of us may say something we’ll regret.”
“I think it’s a little late for that,” Prue snapped.
“My queen…” Lagos tried again.
“Silence,” Gaia hissed suddenly.
The entire room went still. Gaia’s form was rigid, her eyes flashing with warning, her nostrils flaring wide as she inhaled. “Prudence, do you sense it?”
Prue stiffened, her face draining of color. “I—What is that?”
Cyrus searched within himself, only to find his chest hollow. Empty. Void of any power or strength. He deflated, his frame sagging with the knowledge that he was nothing. Prue and Gaia sensed something he could not.
What good was he now? To Prue, to this realm, to anyone?
“What is it?” Lagos asked.
With great effort, Cyrus dragged himself out of his well of misery to focus on the discussion. Whatever was happening was important, and although it would be easy for him to stop caring, he was curious.
And despite the horrible things he’d said to her, he did still love his wife.
It was this new body he despised. He despised himself.
“Someone is here,” Gaia murmured. Her face paled. “Pandora has come for me at last.”
But Prue shook her head. “It’s not her. I would recognize the scent of her power. This one is unfamiliar.” She frowned, her eyes full of wary curiosity.
Gaia’s gaze sharpened, and she uttered a soft gasp of realization before turning and sweeping from the room, her steps echoing as she raced up the staircase.
Lagos and Prue exchanged a startled look before they hurried after her. Cyrus took a breath, surveying the empty room for a moment. It would have been tempting to simply remain here. Lagos was right; perhaps Cyrus needed a moment to himself.
But the startled cries of the crowd above sent him darting after them.
Cyrus was gasping for breath when he reached the top of the staircase. The excited chatter of the demons surrounded him, and he had to elbow his way through the crowd to find Prue and Gaia. They stood at the open doors of the throne room, facing a figure who lounged casually on Cyrus’s throne.
Cyrus felt his stomach drop at the sight of the man, who smirked at their approach, his gaze flicking from Gaia to Prue, and then to Cyrus. His eyes widened as he took in Cyrus’s appearance. Slowly, the man stood, smoothing his brown hair, his eyes dancing with amusement.
“Well, this is a fascinating development,” he said loudly.
Gaia was gripping Prue’s arm tightly, her gaze fixed on the man. “What are you doing here, Apollo?”
Apollo grinned widely. “I had to see for myself if my brother was dead. Now that I’ve confirmed it, I’ve come to claim what is rightfully mine.” He spread his arms wide, gesturing to the throne room at large. “This realm now belongs to me. I am the new king of the Underworld.”
