Page 56 of Thorn & Ash

Now, the realm was in shambles. Because Evander hadn’t been strong enough. All of the Underworld had been affected. Plants dying, rivers drying up, earthquakes rending the ground in two… Half the rivers weren’t functioning as they should, and when Cyrus returned from the mortal realm, he had tripled the guard surrounding Tartarus. When Evander asked him why, Cyrus had practically spat in his face, telling him to mind his own business.

It was quite clear Cyrus wasn’t himself. And that he knew something was wrong with Tartarus.

But now that the god of the Underworld had returned, and with his new bride, Evander couldn’t thoroughly investigate without raising suspicion.

I should have sought out Cyrus the instant he returned, Evander lamented. I should have found out what happened before this darkness took over.

And with Mona here, she was in more danger than she knew. Evander had no doubt she would be targeted immediately by the dark presence that was poisoning the realm. In addition, he had no idea how Cyrus would react if he discovered her presence. Mona and Prue were sisters, yes, but Evander wouldn’t put it past Cyrus to declare Mona a threat to the realm.

As Evader flew, the wind whipped against his face and hair, tickling his horns and making his tunic billow around him. His chest constricted with a combination of anxiety and longing. What would Mona think of him now? Would she be pleased that he had embraced the beast inside? Or would she be revolted?

It doesn’t matter, he thought. She’s here. I’ll see her once more. Whether or not she desires me as I desire her is irrelevant.

His life of immortality was desperately lonely, and it always would be. He would take this as the small gift that it was: one last goodbye with Mona.

Because she certainly could not stay here. As much as Evander wanted her to, it wasn’t safe.

The slow destruction of his home was a painful reminder of how fragile things were. Immortal beings could still be destroyed. And if Mona lingered too long, Evander wouldn’t be able to keep her safe.

A whiff of roses and saltwater met his nose, and his wings adjusted, allowing him to dive. Mona was close. He could feel her aura draw nearer. The leaves atop the trees tickled his arms as he descended, the fresh pine smell overwhelming his senses, nearly drowning out Mona’s scent.

He landed hard, his feet slamming into the ground, his wings spread wide behind him. His breaths came sharp and fast as the exhilaration of flight slowly wore off.

Since merging with Typhon, Evander hadn’t fully exposed his transformation to his brothers. Only Marcellus and Leonidas had seen his true form. His one encounter with Cyrus had been brief, and as soon as Evander had detected the strangeness surrounding his brother, he fled immediately, not giving Cyrus the chance to see Typhon in his full glory.

But now? He was reluctant to withdraw his wings. They were a part of him now.

Let his brothers judge him for his new appearance. They couldn’t fly like he could. The thought sent a slow smile spreading across his face.

A soft gasp sounded in front of him, and Evander straightened, folding in his wings just enough to allow him to see better.

There was Mona. She wore a plain gray dress, torn and stained. Her hair was a tangled mess of dark waves around her face. Her complexion was paler than he remembered, and she looked thinner, as if she hadn’t been eating.

Concern washed over him as he drew nearer, noticing a bloody gash on her temple. Rage boiled inside him. Who had done this to her? He would tear them apart, limb from limb.

Mona’s eyes grew wide as she drew away from him, clearly alarmed by the fury on his face. Evander schooled his features into something gentler, not wanting to frighten her. She still hadn’t said anything. She was only gaping at him in shock and horror.

Gods, she hates me. She despises me. She can’t stand the sight of me. Uncertainty clouded his thoughts, and Evander stepped away from her, giving her the space to flee if she wished.

“Who—who are you?” she whispered.

He faltered at that. Of all the reactions he expected from her—joy, anger, disgust—confusion was not one of them. “It’s me, Evander.” Perhaps his new appearance was so alarming that it made him unrecognizable. Or perhaps it had been so long that she’d forgotten what he looked like. He had no idea how much time had passed in the mortal realm.

It could’ve been years. Though Mona essentially looked the same. Still the most beautiful young woman he’d ever seen.

Mona only frowned, her gaze traveling up and down his body as she took in his appearance. “I don’t know you. I’m sorry. My—my memories, they’re gone.” She grimaced apologetically.

Evander’s stomach sank like a stone, his insides going cold. Oh no. His eyes took in her damp hair, and he sucked in a sharp breath.

She’d gone through the Pool of Forgetfulness. Shit.

“You don’t remember anything?” he asked, afraid of what her answer would be.

“Just my sister, Prue. Have you seen her?”

Anguish twisted in his chest like a knife, and he had to turn away from her for a brief moment. He scrubbed a hand along his face, resisting the urge to groan in utter agony.

She’d traveled through the whirlpool. She’d been allowed a single memory to hold on to.