The familiar scent of clove and old books wrapped around me like a worn blanket as I curled up on the velvet settee in my bedroom above The Pomegranate Pages. The room was quiet, save for the soft ticking of the antique clock on the wall and the distant hum of life outside the bookstore window.
I hadn’t returned to the surface in weeks.
At least, it felt like weeks. Time bent strangely now. The Underworld left its scent on my skin and its rhythm in my blood — and even here, in the human world, it haunted me. A phantom heartbeat pulsing beneath my own.
Hades’ silence echoed louder here than it had below.
Brenna padded in barefoot, her long hair twisted up in a haphazard knot, wearing one of her oversized t-shirts with the words Only true ones will understand in fading gold print. She carried two steaming mugs — lavender honey tea — and handed one to me before plopping down with the kind of dramatic sigh only she could manage.
“You’ve been brooding for the last two hours,” she said, nudging me gently. “Which I respect, as your best friend and resident chaos goblin… but you’re starting to make the wallpaper sad.”
I gave her a tired smile, cradling the mug between both hands like it could warm my unraveling thoughts. “I don’t know what to do, Bren.”
She didn’t answer right away, just sipped her tea, studying me with that unnervingly perceptive gaze she reserved for moments like this — when pretending everything was fine had run out of steam.
“Is this about Hades?”
I nodded slowly. “He’s… pulling away. Ever since Zeus visited. He won’t tell me why, won’t let me in. And I— I don’t know how to be with someone who keeps building walls between us when all I’ve wanted is for him to see me.”
Brenna raised a brow. “And do you see him?”
That gave me pause.
“He’s complicated,” I admitted. “Layered. Stoic. But also… kind. Protective. Gentle when no one’s looking. And when he does look at me—”
I stopped, my throat tightening.
“When he looks at me, it’s like the world stops spinning. Not because of desire — though gods, that’s there too — but something else. Something… older. Like my soul recognizes his.”
“Then maybe,” Brenna said softly, “you need to stop waiting for him to invite you through the door he’s afraid to open. Maybe you walk through it anyway.”
I blinked at her.
“He’s death, Persephone,” she continued. “But so are you. He’s used to people fearing him. You don’t. That probably terrifies him more than anything. But you? You weren’t made to wait in shadows. You were made to walk straight through them and bloom.”
A silence settled between us — not heavy, but powerful.
Her words sank like roots deep into something buried in my chest. A truth I hadn’t yet dared say aloud.
It wasn’t just curiosity that had drawn me to Hades. Not even just the raw magnetism of his presence, the way his voice could send tremors through my spine. It was that when I stood beside him, I felt seen. As if I didn’t need to hide the pieces of me that didn’t fit into this world.
And I wanted to know if he felt that too. If he feared it. If he wanted to run. Or if he was just waiting for someone — for me — to choose him before he dared choose back.
“I’m not waiting anymore,” I said, voice barely above a whisper. “If he won’t come to me, then I’ll go to him. He doesn’t get to decide when I’m ready to know the truth. Not after everything we’ve shared.”
Brenna smiled — proud, fierce, and a little teary. “Atta girl.”
I stood, set the tea down, and crossed the room to grab my coat and the pendant glowing faintly against my chest. I reached for the handle of the front door with a fire igniting in my belly—
KNOCK.
The sound cracked through the apartment like a thunderclap.
Brenna jumped.
My hand froze midair.
The knock came again.
Once. Twice.
Then silence.
My heart slammed against my ribs. Not from fear — not exactly — but instinct. That bone-deep feeling that whatever stood behind the door did not belong to this world.
Brenna swallowed. “Please tell me that’s Hermes being dramatic again.”
I shook my head slowly.
Because I already knew it wasn’t.
The world held its breath.
And the shadows outside the stained-glass door began to shift.