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His hands curled into fists, and as he did, clawed hands burst from the ground, tipped with sharp nails. They grasped Pirithous’s ankles, and he fell into more rotting hands. He struggled against their deep hold and managed to free himself, though they had gouged parts of his flesh.
Still, he ran farther into the forest, and Hades trailed behind.
He would be witness to this—to Pirithous’s greatest fears, his living nightmare.
“Did she say that word?” Hades asked aloud, andthough Pirithous struggled a distance ahead, Hades knew his voice echoed through the forest.
The demigod hesitated at the edge of a lake that seemed endless in every direction he turned. It was a reservoir, fed by the rivers Phlegethon and Cocytus, but he did not know that, and taking a step in, he found that the water was thick and it burned. He howled, unable to pull himself free.
Then suddenly, Pirithous was jerked from the edge of the shore and hauled into its center where the water churned violently, burning every inch of his skin. He screamed in one continuous wail until he disappeared beneath the surface of the water.
Hades let him suffer there for a while, then parted the tarlike water until there was a clear path from one side to the other. At the center of it lay Pirithous, body scorched and barely breathing.
With a jerk of his hand, Hades drew the black water from his lungs. The demigod gasped and rolled onto his back, breath coming in wheezing rasps.
“Did you let her go when she begged?” Hades asked as he approached.
Pirithous struggled to rise and managed only to get to his hands and knees, yet he crawled, and when he could move no longer, he collapsed.
Despite his burned flesh, the whites of Pirithous’s eyes were still visible, his words a low grind that sounded as if it came from his chest.
At least he could no longer say please.
“Was it worth it?” Hades asked, and when the demigod closed his eyes, Hades’s rage tore through him, and he let it overtake him.
He beat Pirithous until his bones were jelly beneath his fists, until he had no stiffness to his body, until each impact felt like punching nothing but the thickened water in the Forest of Despair, and he only stopped because Hecate halted his hand.
“That’s enough, Hades,” she said.
Their arms shook as they resisted one another, but once Hades met her gaze, he relented and then took a step back, though Hecate did not move, like she didn’t trust him not to begin again. But he was drained and there was no fury left to fuel him.
He could feel her eyes on him as he stared at the remains of Pirithous, a broken soul.
“He’s never coming back, Hades,” she said, and he knew that was true. “And you are needed elsewhere.”
He finally met her gaze. “Persephone?”
She shook her head. “Ilias and Zofie came. They have located the woman who attacked Persephone.”
Hades returned to Persephone, who woke as he arrived. When she saw him, she froze.
His body still hummed with the violence he’d executed on Pirithous, and he hated that she could feel it.
“You went to Tartarus,” she said.
He didn’t respond, and she rose to her feet, taking his face into her hands.
“Are you well?” she asked, and he leaned into her touch, holding her bright gaze like it was a beacon for his soul.
“No,” he admitted, and they held each other tight,unwilling to let go. “Ilias and Zofie found the woman who assaulted you,” he finally said when he felt more like himself.
“Zofie?” Persephone sounded confused.
“She has been helping Ilias.”
“Where is the woman?” she asked.
“She is being held at Iniquity.”
