Page 64 of Thorn & Ash

“Who in this realm knows about Kronos and Pandora’s box?” she asked.

“Besides Aidoneus? No one. Some other demons may have heard whispers, as I have. But the only ones who truly know of the origins of such darkness are the gods and goddesses who reside in Elysium.”

“Can I reach them?”

Lagos huffed a dry laugh, which sounded more like a snort, his large nostrils flaring. “No. There is a single portal to Elysium, but it requires a powerful amount of magic to pass through it. Even Aidoneus doesn’t use it often. I fear this realm is too sick to even fuel such power anymore.”

Damn. That didn’t give Prue many options.

Kronos and the box both originated from Tartarus. It was becoming more and more clear that this was the place that held the answers.

Despite how her insides chilled at the thought of visiting such a place, she turned to face Lagos and said with determination, “We are going to Tartarus.”

ALLIES

CYRUS

Cyrus’s eyes flew open, his breaths coming in short gasps. His head throbbed with piercing intensity, a shrill scream echoing in his ears. Darkness pressed in on him, crowding him.

Slowly, he sat up, his head spinning. He raised a hand to his forehead to quell the pain. As his eyes adjusted, he realized he was in the caves of Styx. He recognized this particular chamber.

But… why was he here?

He carefully climbed to his feet, gritting his teeth against the ache in his bones. He took one hesitant step. Then another.

Nothing happened.

He waited for Kronos’s presence to assault him as it usually did, particularly when he was alone and vulnerable. But there was nothing but absolute and utter silence in his mind.

Hope bloomed inside him, but he squashed it down, focusing instead on his unease. Was Kronos truly gone? Or was this a trap? Was Kronos merely biding his time, waiting for Cyrus to expose his secrets?

Nothing about this felt right.

Cyrus strode forward, navigating effortlessly through the tunnels and passages until he emerged in the clearing that housed his palace. A surge of regret and longing filled him at the sight of the gleaming chrome walls and pillars. His home.

And gods above, what had he done? He had nearly destroyed it…

If there was any chance Kronos would come back and possess him again, Cyrus couldn’t risk it. He had to know for sure.

He moved toward the palace, then froze as his gaze snagged on something on his arm. He lifted his right hand, stunned at the display of inky flames along his flesh. When he raised his left hand, he realized it matched it completely.

Holy gods. He glanced underneath his tunic, then tugged at his trousers to check his legs.

Every inch of him was covered in ink. Before, it had only been the left side of his body. But the soul magic he’d used to vanquish Kronos must have conjured the remaining tattoos.

Cyrus wasn’t sure what to make of this. His tattoos had always been a mark of his power. But was it Kronos’s power? Had that magic ever truly belonged to Cyrus?

He thought of what Prue had said when he’d told her of his tattoos. I like them. The way her fingers traced over the curling flames on his skin… His insides warmed from the memory.

No, it didn’t matter. What did matter was the proof this provided. These tattoos meant his soul magic had successfully extracted its price from him.

He tried not to think about what this meant for his soul. If he used more soul magic, what would happen? His body was already covered in ink; there was no more space left. Would one more instance render him mortal… permanently?

He shook his head. He could worry about this later.

Kronos was gone. He had to be. If Cyrus hadn’t succeeded, wouldn’t Kronos be exacting revenge by now? Wouldn’t he have been waiting to ambush Cyrus?

Was it possible Kronos was only wounded? That he had fled before Cyrus had finished him off?