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Her magic flared, and a thorn burst from her palm. She shoved it into the hand, and it released her. Though she was free of one challenge, he sent another her way. Another wraith flew toward her.
Her body bent back as it passed through her, and Hades felt like her screams were stealing his soul, piece by piece.
He swallowed the bile that had risen in the back of his throat as he approached her, chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.
“Better,” he said. “But you gave me your back.”
He stood over, wanting so badly to take her into his arms, to tell her he would protect her from all this, but the truth was, he couldn’t. He had already proven that, so she had to learn.
Her hands shook and she curled them both into fists. He vanished as her magic roared to life and brambles sprouted from the earth around her. It was her attempt at fighting him back, and it had failed.
She got to her hands and knees, glaring at him, her cheeks tearstained.
“Your hand gave away your intentions. Summon your magic with your mind—without movement.”
“I thought you said you would teach me,” she seethed, and it almost felt like she was sayingI thought you loved me.
Hades took a painful breath. “I am teaching you. This is what will become of you if you face a god in battle. You must be prepared for anything, for everything.”
She looked miserable, and he felt responsible as she stared down at her hands.
“Up, Persephone. No other god would have waited.”
Her eyes met his, different this time—different even from the night she’d nearly destroyed his realm. That look was the pain of betrayal. This was fury.
As she got to her feet, the ground began to shake, and the earth rose. Hades dispatched his shadows, and he watched both shocked and amazed as they bent to her will, slowing and sliding up her arm, seeping into her skin.
She shuddered for only a moment before her palm uncurled, and her fingers were tipped with black claws.
“Good,” he said.
Persephone’s eyes shifted to him, and she smiled, but it was short-lived before her knees hit the ground. She threw back her head, convulsing as Hades fed her illusions he had crafted from her greatest fears.
This was torture.
He knew that, but it was also warfare, and he was not the only god capable of it. She would have to learn how to perceive the difference, but as he watched her fears unfold, he knew she was already lost—she believed this was reality.
Perhaps he should not have started with Demeter, whose harsh expression filled even him with dread.
“Mother—” Persephone choked, her panic so real, Hades could feel it gripping his lungs, stealing his own breath.
“Kore,” Demeter said, the name Persephone hated most coming out like a curse. She tried to rise, but Demeter was on her, yanking her from the ground. “I knew this day would come. You will be mine. Forever.”
“But the Fates—”
“Have unraveled your destiny.”
Hades’s stomach twisted. It was one of his greatest fears too.
Demeter teleported with Persephone, which only added legitimacy to the illusion, because the scent of her magic permeated the air. Hades watched as Persephone found herself back in the glass greenhouse—her first prison.
She raged inside, kicking and screaming, spewing hatred at her mother, who only regarded her in mocking amusement.
She went silent when everything went dark as she was forced to watch the lives of her friends play out in her absence. The worst of the visions was when Leuce returned to him as a lover. He could barely watch as Persephone’s expression turned to horror. Her fingers curled into fists, her chest heaved, her eyes watered—and then she screamed.
She screamed so loud, she shook.
“Persephone,” he said, but her reality had already shifted, and when Hades witnessed it, he could taste something metallic in the back of his throat.
