Nothing I Wouldn't Do

by Croik

Summary:

Over and over, Zagreus has fought his way to the surface, only be told not to come back. It's as he's reeling from this rejection that the one thing he'd been warned against comes to pass: he's discovered by Olympus. Put on a timer and at his most desperate, he turns to Thanatos for the impossible.

Notes:

• For opinionhaver69.

Your prompt said "go wild" and I was inspired to take it literally. I hope this is the kind of content you're hoping for, happy yuletide!!

“Go home, Zagreus,” she said, and he couldn’t tell if it was her words or the icy waters of the Styx that seized his chest then. “Please.”

It was as if the biting winter that surrounded Persephone’s little cottage drew closer. Zagreus stared back at her, his frustration clawing its way to desperation. “Go home with me, Mother!” he pleaded. “You came here under false pretenses.” He stepped closer, pretending he didn’t notice the heat being drawn out the soles of his feet. His time was already running out. “I haven’t fought all this way, over and over again, only to turn back now. I need you in my life! How can you just...turn me away like this?”

Persephone’s stern expression crumbled. “Oh, Zagreus,” she murmured, heart breaking openly in front of him, and yet he could see that it wasn’t enough. She would mourn and she would still let him go, just like she had before, and life in the underworld would continue just as it had then. Everything was in danger of going back to how it had been, and Zagreus shuddered at the thought until he thought he might be sick.

But then Persephone’s face changed again. Her eyes darted past Zagreus and a look of shock drew her eyes wide and jaws tight. Before Zagreus could turn he felt a shudder run through the earth beneath his feet, and goose bumps prickled up and down his already chilled arms and neck. The grass crunched beneath approaching footsteps and a familiar voice said, “Ah, cousin Zagreus. Finally, we meet face to face.”

Zagreus whipped around. His strained nerves sparked with panic at the sight of a man approaching: dark skin and gold-white armor composing a godly frame, silver hair spilling down one side of his face and a stripe of white warpaint across his eyes. Zagreus had only known him in fragments before then, as a vision and an echo, whose power stung the inside of his palms when brandished: Ares, Olympian and the God of War.

“Ares…” Zagreus breathed, rooted to the spot just as his mother was behind him. He could only gape as Ares approached, each long stride bringing them closer to a fate he couldn’t begin to guess at. “How...how did you find us?”

“How?” Ares echoed, amused. He was truly a tribute to his title: muscular and sturdy, his cool, red eyes calculating. His every movement was smooth and efficient, as if conserving his strength to wield in full at any moment. “Dear boy, I’ve been watching you since the very first time you accepted one of my gifts. This attempt of yours, particularly so.” He stopped in front of Zagreus and smiled in a way that might have conveyed fondness if not for the venom twisting the corner of his lips. “The Fates were especially kind to us today, to have joined my strength to yours so fully. It was only a matter of time before…”

He glanced past Zagreus then, noticing Persephone for the first time. She remained completely still, her face grim, and for a moment even the untrustworthy humor vanished from Ares’s sharp eyes. “...before I found you,” he finished, full of confusion and wonder. “Kore. Or was it...Persephone?” Ares' smile returned, wider and more dangerous than before, and the courtyard grew even colder. “How unexpected.”

“Wait,” Zagreus said before he knew what would follow.

“Now why would you be here?” Ares taunted, moving toward her. He glanced between the two of them; the thought that he might resemble his mother so closely as to make their relation obvious tied Zagreus’ heart in knots. “With Zagreus, son of Hades, bound for Olympus?”

“Ares,” Persephone said with quiet firmness. “Don’t jump to conclusions.”

But even that seemed enough to confirm his suspicions, and only more so when Zagreus stepped protectively next to his mother. “Helios always did insist you had slipped off to the underworld,” Ares said. “How vindicated he’ll be.”

“Ares, please,” Persephone insisted. “You mustn’t tell them.”

“Why not? Does your mother not deserve to know? She’s been in mourning all this time.” Ares gestured to the snow-capped trees lying just beyond the boundary of Persephone’s warm cottage. “All of this is for you, Kore. And here you’ve been all this time, right under our noses.” His eyes narrowed on Zagreus. “The both of you.”

“Lord Ares, please wait,” Zagreus tried again. “I can explain.” He licked his lips, stalling as he struggled to piece together his composure. “I didn’t—”

His lungs spasmed in his chest, strangling him. The vibrant green of the clearing smeared into the blinding, winter white and turned the shapes of his mother and cousin into churning smears. Shaking, he doubled over, unable to breathe. “No,” he wheezed as his fingers and toes went numb. “No, not yet…!”

Ares leaned back in confusion while Persephone hurried to support him. Only with her arms around his torso was he able to remain on his feet. “Look, Ares—Zagreus didn’t lie to you,” she told him. “He was trying to come to Olympus, like he told you, but he can’t—he very literally can’t. He’s bound to Hades, he just didn’t know that until now.”

“Bound to Hades?” Ares repeated, and after a moment’s consideration he came toward them again. “Then it sounds like we’re one short to be having this conversation at all.”

He drew one of the swords from its sheath on his back. The sound of the hissing metal sent Zagreus’ heart pounding between his ears, and though his hands were shaking he managed to push his mother behind him. “Lord Ares,” he wheezed. “Please, don’t hurt her. It’s my fault—”

Ares drove the sword through his heart. It burned like the magma of Asphodel, deeper and more painful than any wound he’d suffered in a long time—not since his father last speared him on Gigaros’ twin blades. Persephone clung to his tunic but it was Ares’ broad palm on his collar he felt then, gripping him tight. “Run back to your father,” Ares said, his voice a gravely murmur close to Zagreus’ ear. “Tell him to meet me here, now, or I’ll tell all of Olympus what he’s hidden from them.”

Zagreus tried to reply, but blood filled his throat. Ares twisted the blade and darkness overtook him, wiping away the emerald clearing, his mother’s voice and Ares’ rough hands. He felt the racing current of the Styx drag him down, down beneath the verminous temple, past the hills and plains and mazes. And like he had so many times before, he arose in the pool at his father’s house.

He dragged himself up the steps, gasping and shaken, horror-stricken at what he had done.

Ares knows, Zagreus thought, ripe with shame. Do the others know, too? Did they see but didn’t come out? Everything his father had warned him about had come to pass, and his skin prickled with the god’s eyes on him, ever seeking war.

The shades were milling about in the hall, oblivious. A few cast glances his way as he clambered out of the pool, unused to his urgency. As always, Hypnos jolted awake at his approach and checked his list, eager to deliver some backhanded compliment as to his progress. This time, however, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“Wait,” he muttered as Zagreus stormed past him. “That can’t be right. Are you pulling my leg here?”

Zagreus ignored him—his mind was racing, flames flicking off his heels as he ran to his father’s desk. As much as he dreaded Hades’ full displeasure and blame, his chest still burned. He couldn’t stop thinking of his mother’s face as she told him, so emphatically, that his well-meant quest was only inviting disaster.

Hades wasn’t behind his desk; Cerberus wasn’t at its side. If he’s still up there, will he find them? Zagreus thought. No—he said himself he never looked for her, never wanted to know where she was. He beat his fist against the obsidian. Why is he taking so long! Who knows how long Lord Ares will wait?

“Father?” Zagreus shouted into the air, for the first time wishing the man would appear in all his wrath. “Father!” But there was only Hypos blinking at him in confusion, and shades huddled together, whispering. With a curse, he headed for the west hall. “Than!”

If anyone other than Hades himself could help, it would be Thanatos. It didn’t even occur to Zagreus at first that no one traveled to the surface so often or so efficiently; all he wanted then was to see him, no matter how tenuous their relationship was at present. When he turned the corner and found that Thanatos wasn’t there, however, his heart sank. Grimacing, he whirled about again. “Nyx!”

The shades scattered into the corners as he passed. He stormed into the east wing, where he had embellished Nyx’s favored corner with sweet-smelling flowers, only to find it bereft of her. “Nyx?” he called, hoping in vain that she was somehow nearby enough to hear. He had never needed her unfaltering support more. “Nyx, are you here? Please, I need your help!”

“Zagreus?” Achilles emerged from the main hall. “Whatever’s the matter?”

“Achilles!” Zagreus whirled on him; as soon as Achilles was in range he latched onto his arms. “Achilles, I have to get to the surface—I have to find my father.”

Achilles startled, but as always he was steadfast, and he helped Zagreus find his balance. “Calm down, lad,” he said, in that authoritative but gentle tone that had served him so well as an instructor. “He’ll be back soon enough—he always is. Why so urgent?”

“It’s mother,” Zagreus blurted out before he could think better of it. “I have to get back to her, she—” He realized then how out in the open they were, and with great effort he lowered his voice. “Father was right—I’ve put her in danger. Lord Ares found us.”

Achilles understood the gravity immediately; his eyes went wide, and his hands tightened around Zagreus’ shoulders. “Just Ares?” he asked quietly. “Or all of Olympus?”

“I don’t know.” Zagreus gulped. “I don’t know, but he said that if I didn’t bring my father to him, they would.”

“I see…” Achilles took in a deep breath, centering himself as much as his distraught pupil, and projected calm. “Then we’ll wait for him together. When he or Lady Nyx gets back, we’ll tell them what’s happening—they’ll know what to do.”

Zagreus was shaking his head before Achilles had finished. “No, I can’t. What if he takes too long? Anything could be happening up there, right now!” He dug his fingers into Achilles’ armor. “Please, sir, can’t you help me get back there?”

Achilles grimaced apologetically. “Would that I could, lad, but you know that’s not possible. I don’t have permission to leave the House, much less reach the surface.”

“Then I’ll just have to go myself.” Zagreus untangled from Achilles and turned toward his room, only to have Achilles snag his elbow before he could get far.

“Wait,” he said, his anxiety showing through. “You won’t make it before Lord Hades returns. You should wait and—”

“I can’t!” Though he hated to do it, Zagreus pulled free from Achilles’ grip. “I can’t just sit here when this is all my fault!”

“It’s your fault because you can’t sit still,” interrupted Megaera, and both men startled to find her so close. She had to have come out of the lounge but Zagreus had been too distracted to notice. She fixed him with a stern look. “If you won’t listen to your father, at least listen to Achilles—you know he has your best interests at heart.”

“Meg…” There had always been an extra sting to Megaera’s disapproval that Zagreus couldn’t shake, but he wasn’t about to let her stop him, either. “You don’t understand,” he told her, already moving toward the adjoining hall. “I have to do this.”

Megaera and Achilles both gave chase, through his room and into the courtyard beyond. “Whatever is going on, it’s because of these attempts of yours to escape, right?” Megaera persisted. “You really think trying again is going to fix it?”

“It’s different this time.” Zagreus ignored Skelly’s befuddled looks as he retrieved Stygius. The blade fed off his anxious energy and hummed in his grip. “I know it’s your duty and all, but please don’t get in my way this time, because I won’t hold back.”

Megaera scoffed, but Zagreus didn’t have patience enough even for their expected banter; he continued past her toward his way out. He heard Skelly and Achilles both call after him, but it was Megaera’s whip snapping around his sword arm that yanked him back.

“Not this time,” she said, poised for combat. “I think we’ve all put up with your selfishness for long enough.”

Anger and regret warred behind Zagreus’ ribs, but he managed to stay still, bracing himself just enough that she wouldn’t be able to pull him off his feet easily if she tried. “You know the rules, Meg,” he said, the words seething up his throat; he wouldn’t have been surprised to feel smoke curling out from between his teeth. “No fighting in the House.”

“Both of you, stop.” Achilles stepped between them with a placating gesture. “There’s no need for this. Whatever is happening above, only Lord Hades has the means to resolve it. Let us be patient.”

“I can’t!” Zagreus shot back, and he twisted his wrist about to angle Stygius’ blade against the whip. He didn’t know if even the immortal sword that had slain titans would be able to sever a Fury’s lifeblood weapon, but he was desperate enough to try. “Don’t you see that I can’t? I’m not trying to run away this time—I’m trying to make up for that!”

“By doing the same thing you’ve always done?” Megaera retorted, adjusting her stance and grip. “I’m not going to let you endanger this house any further.”

It’s too late for that, Zagreus thought, shuddering. We’re all in danger already. “Let go.” He didn’t have the help of the Gods, but his lungs were full of fire and he was suddenly eager to prove the strength of his conviction to her. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Megaera scoffed again; her shoulders curled forward and Zagreus wound tight, but before she could rear back Achilles snatched the whip. A sharp tug halted her momentum and the attack that would have followed.

“Megaera, stand down,” Achilles ordered, and though her surprise quickly morphed toward wrath, he continued. “Your oath is to the House. You can’t protect it by breaking its rules.”

Megaera scowled, but when she looked back to Zagreus, something changed, and for a moment her anger looked an awful lot like hurt. She nodded, and once Achilles had let go of the whip, she gave a flick of her wrist that loosened its hold and set Zagreus free.

“I’ll see you out there, Zag,” she said, straightening up.

I wish you wouldn’t. Isn’t there something I can say to make you see that? But it looked like her mind was as made up as his was. “Fine,” he said, and he leapt through the window that would take him outside.

The pits of Tartarus lay before him. Zagreus raced through the familiar, haunting corridors of obsidian and emerald, the waters of the Styx churning always nearby. He had barely made it beyond the House when he encountered a message from Olympus. For the first time, the glowing sigil that awaited him filled him with dread: it was the flaming sword of Ares. Gulping, Zagreus extended his hand to accept.

Ares’ power carved into him with a ferocity he hadn’t expected. His sword flared, its ruby shine a promise of devastation to any that met its blade, more so than Ares had ever offered before. And in his mind the God of War’s voice swelled in a taunting murmur.

“I’m still waiting, son of Hades,” he said. “And I haven’t much patience these days, so here’s a little something to speed your ascent. Don’t forget to tell your father what I said.”

“Lord Ares, please,” Zagreus prayed, without any idea if he could somehow hear it. “Please, don’t do anything until I get there.” If Olympus was determined to mete out punishment for the lies told them, he at least wanted to be there, to bear it at his mother’s side. With a deep breath he charged onward.

The ever-shifting landscape of cruel Tartarus seemed especially keen on thwarting him that time. Even with the most power Ares had ever given him, so many shades rose to oppose him that it almost didn’t matter how effectively he was able to cut his way through them. His feet which had never failed him before felt as if they might begin to char from how fast he ran, how often he shifted. It was taking too long. He had no way to know what was happening above and it might already be too late.

Several chambers in, he encountered another message from Olympus, this one bearing the golden shield of Athena. Eagerly he ran to her—a gift from Athena might allow him to pass through the uncommon legions of the underworld and save himself the trouble of cutting them all down. He placed his hand on her glowing sigil, saying, “Lady Athena, you’ve never been a more welcome sight.”

He felt nothing from the contact: no flash of godly light, no swell of ancient wisdom and protection. Her sigil was cold, and the voice that followed equally so. “Zagreus,” she said, with that same, harrowing disappointment that Megaera had deployed against him so well. “It’s so hard to see you now, but I think I understand why. You’re pulling away from us. You never intended to come to Olympus at all, did you?”

Zagreus held his breath, sweat on his brow and palms clammy. “All of us have offered you our gifts and our love,” she continued. “In return, you might have at least offered us your honesty. If you cannot do that much, I can only assume you are not in need of my gifts, either. Good luck on the path you’ve chosen, son of Hades.”

Her shield vanished, leaving a vacuum of shame in its place. Zagreus stood, hand trembling as his mind whirled. Did Ares tell her everything? he wondered madly. Or did she discover them? Do all of them know—will none of them help me now? He gripped his sword until his knuckles cracked and throbbed. How am I supposed to make it up there in time with just this help from Ares, the one who’s putting us all in danger!

From behind him came the tone of a bell, the sound of which rocked Zagreus with its familiarity. Immediately he spun around in search, and sure enough, out of the shadow of a towering pillar emerged Thanatos.

“There you are,” said Thanatos, as was his way trying to sound indifferent even as Zagreus rushed over to him. He hovered a few inches off the ground just because he could, his scythe loosely cradled. “Here I was in the mood for some competition, and you’re blazing through the shades like—”

Zagreus grabbed him by the front of his tunic, and he swayed a moment, startled by his urgency. “Than! Damn it’s good to see you.”

Thanatos blinked at him. Might he have even blushed? “Um. Likewise.”

“I need you to take me to the surface,” Zagreus blurted out, and immediately Thanatos sighed and rolled his eyes, so he gave him another tug. “Please, Than, it’s important. My—”

“You must be out of your mind,” Thanatos scolded him. “Don’t you know what I’m risking by aiding you as much as I am already?”

“This is different! I have to get up there!” He locked eyes with Thanatos, and before he could offer any more scathing remarks he surrendered the truth. “Ares followed me on the surface—he found my mother, and he’s threatening to tell Olympus.”

Thanatos, already pale, turned a shade lighter; he dropped lightly onto his feet as Zagreus continued. “I know it’s my fault,” he said. “Maybe Father was right all along, but that doesn’t matter now—you know Lord Ares, you know how bad this could be.” Thanatos’ brow furrowing proved his words true. “He’s waiting for me up there, and I have to face him.”

“Hold on a minute.” Thanatos gestured for calm, but after enduring Achilles’ and Megaera’s protests, Zagreus didn’t have the patience to obey. “Are you sure—”

“Yes, of course I’m sure!” The momentum that had carried Zagreus through Tartarus had crumbled in on itself, leaving only hollow panic, numbing his fingers as he gripped Thanatos’ tunic. “If it was Nyx in trouble I’d do whatever I could for you, you know I would. I just need you to take me to the surface.”

Thanatos watched his face, uncertain and seeking. “You need me,” he repeated, and a note of bitterness twisted his voice, which Zagreus felt like a barb hooking the base of his throat. “After however many times you’ve done this, running off without so much as a goodbye, and now, now that you’ve finally taken on more than you can handle, you ‘need’ me.”

“Yes,” Zagreus said without hesitation, aching around the word. “Yes, Thanatos, please. I need you.”

The declaration seemed to stop Thanatos in his tracks. He stared back at Zagreus, swallowing hard. A battle played out across his brow and in the muscles along his jaw, and at last he released another long sigh. “Okay,” he said quietly, and then again, louder. “Okay. But I honestly don’t know that I can.”

“I just need to go to the surface,” Zagreus said quickly, his pulse beginning to hammer with excitement and relief. “You do it all the time.”

“I go to the mortal realm, yes. But I’ve only ever ferried someone else to Hades—it’s against the master’s rule to help others escape.” He took Zagreus’s shoulder as if trying to impart calm, as Achilles had. “And I’ve only ever carried the dead, Zag.”

“Then you’ll just have to kill me,” said Zagreus, and when Thanatos scoffed, he hardened his voice. “Go ahead—I’m ready.”

“You…” Once again Thanatos regarded him doubtfully. “Kill you? You’re serious?”

“I’ve died dozens of times already, you know. And besides.” Despite the circumstances, Zagreus managed a tense smirk. “I’ve always kind of wondered what it would feel like, coming from you. Being literal death itself and all.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Thanatos muttered, and he shifted back and forth on his feet uncomfortably. Any other time, his bashfulness would have been endearing. “But all right.” He took a step back and hefted his scythe. “Right now?”

Zagreus didn’t hesitate to nod his consent. “I’m ready.”

“I warned you.” Thanatos took in a deep breath, took aim. There was concern in his face that made Zagreus feel so much older, somehow—made him want to apologize for every stupid, childish thing he had ever said to his long-time friend, to thank him again for every moment of support and every promise kept. Thanatos had always stood beside him, and he deserved better. Then his eyes hardened, and he swept his blade forward in a smooth, graceful arc that cleaved Zagreus’s heart in two.

Death at Thanatos’ hands was a very different sensation than any other Zagreus had experienced before it. Like every other time, it hurt, of course—a deep, throbbing hurt that flowed out from the blade, smothering his senses one by one, until he was enveloped in darkness. But after that...it wasn’t so bad. For a brief moment he felt weightless, drifting, only to have Thanatos gather him up in his arms. For being the God of Death, his hands were unexpectedly warm. He cradled Zagreus to chest, and then they were rising—shifting, all of reality becoming a white blur as Thanatos lifted him up, up from the depths. It would only be moments before—

Something latched onto Zagreus’ ankle. He felt the scaly imprints of five bony fingers, then five more—then ten more, twenty more—half a dozen hands seizing him by his legs, and arms, and hair. Gravity reversed and he was torn from Thanatos’ arms. Helplessly he fell, a scream ripped from his throat as he was hurled through the empty void.

Zagreus landed on cool, white marble. The hands dissipated from his body, and by the time he had his wits and bearings enough to take in his surroundings, he knew exactly where he was: the depths of reality itself, with endless, inky oblivion staring back at him. The realm of primordial Chaos.

“Than?” Zagreus used a pillar to help pull himself to his feet; his lungs felt drained of their air and his knees wobbled. As his strength gradually returned he gazed about, but there was no sign of Thanatos, or of the Fates he presumed had ripped him from him. There was only an infinity of distant stars.

It didn’t work. Zagreus pounded his fist against the column and then pushed away from it. I’m even further away than when I started, with even less time! He scraped his face across his sleeve and breathed in. “Master Chaos!”

The expanse directly ahead of him swirled. Distant points of light shimmered and coalesced into the vaguely humanoid figure of his ancient ancestor, Chaos. Their body undulated with a myriad of ever-changing faces, jewels, and growing plants; red eyes blossomed and then retreated along its pasty skin.

“Son of Hades,” Chaos greeted, their voice rippling outward, their eyes calm and curious. “You have come to me by a very different path than I am accustomed to. You may explain yourself, if you like.”

“Lord Chaos…” Zagreus gulped and staggered forward. His shame and fear had sharpened to so fine a point he didn’t know how to get the words out yet again, let alone in front of a being as old and possibly indifferent as Chaos. “I’m sorry,” he began, only able to trust his instincts. “Sorry to intrude like this. I don’t know how I got here. I was trying to reach the surface again.” He drew himself up. “I’m sorry to have to ask outright like this, after all the help you’ve given me already, but can’t you help me now? I have to make it to the surface as quickly as possible.”

“Of course I can,” Chaos replied, but with such aloofness that Zagreus knew immediately he had not chosen his words carefully enough. “All of what you perceive to be reality lies within my control. I can place you anywhere, in any time. What I fail to understand is why that would help you. Was not your personal struggle a vital part of the experience?”

“It was—it is. But this time…” Zagreus shoved his self pity aside—Chaos was too far above concepts like blame and disappointment to admonish him, so there wasn’t any point in playing to their sympathies or fearing their reprisals. “My mother, Persephone, is in danger on the surface. I want to go to her as quickly as possible before something...irreversible happens to her.”

“Irreversibility is the nature of forward-moving time,” Chaos replied. “I don’t see why this would trouble you.”

Zagreus ground his teeth as he fought for patience. “Because...because she’s my mother, and I care about her, and I don’t want her to be hurt,” he insisted. “At this rate, I might never have the chance to see her again. You...you know what that’s like, right? To be separated from family? Please, help me avoid that now.”

Chaos tipped their head thoughtfully to one side. “My efforts have aided you to the surface several times now. It’s rather ungrateful of you to imply that choosing not to do so this time particularly would render that assistance meaningless.”

“I’m not—” The breath rushed out of him and he turned away, looking for the gate that would lead him back to Tartarus. “It’s fine—I’ll find some other way. Even if the Fates themselves are trying to stop me now, I’m not giving up.”

“The Fates?” Chaos echoed, displaying much keener interest then. “Please explain.”

“My...friend was trying to take me to the surface,” Zagreus obliged, daring to hope that he had said something to earn Chaos’ favor. “But it felt like three pairs of hands separated us. I think...the Fates themselves are trying to punish me for breaking the rules like that.”

The churning faces that made up Chaos’ body began to whisper to each other. “If you had not been so cordial until now, I would perhaps indulge in a lesser being’s sense of offense,” said Chaos. “Instead, I choose to believe you are misguided, rather than assume you consider your time here with me to be a punishment.”

“No,” Zagreus hurried to reply, aghast. “Of course not, I meant—”

Chaos silenced him by holding up their hand; so, too, did the squirming heads go quiet. “I’ll ask that you do not have me repeat myself, if you don’t mind. It’s so very tedious.” They loomed closer, and the focus of their enormous eyes on Zagreus made him shiver. “I choose not to believe my daughter’s daughters are so ignorant as to inconvenience me with another being’s punishment. I assume instead that their purpose is singular and simple: that I should help you, as I have before. There can be no other useful explanation.”

Zagreus barely dared to breathe. “Then...you will?”

Chaos considered a moment longer, the suspense torturous. “I will,” they said at last, and Zagreus could have cried. They reached into their own gaping, empty rib cage, and from the invisible entrails there removed a small, black object, shaped like an egg. “Take this,” they told Zagreus, and he did so reverently. The shell was warm to the touch and he thought he could feel something moving inside it. “If you would accept my most powerful boon, cast it down on the stones here. With this you can certainly reach your endangered mother in good time.”

“Thank you.” Zagreus rolled the egg back and forth in his palms, feeling the weight of it shift within. “Thank you, Lord Chaos, but...will you really not just send me there yourself? You have the power to.”

“I do,” Chaos agreed. “But I also believe that The Fates sent you here knowing that I would not, otherwise they would have allowed you to break the surface yourself. Thus, I’m very curious to see what form their design will take.” He leaned back, and his form grew hazy and indistinct, fading into the surrounding void. “I’ve never given another so much of my power before. Should I ever meet The Fates, I shall remember to thank them for this opportunity.”

They vanished, though Zagreus could still feel their eyes on him, watching for his next move. With only a moment for attempted preparation, he flung the cosmic egg Chaos had given him into the marble.

The egg shattered into thousands of tiny, whisper-thin shards, and its yolk burst forth in a swirl of pitch-dark mist. It rose as spiraling tendrils, swooping around his ankles, then knees, then thighs. Wherever it brushed him he felt it’s peculiar temperature: so cold that it burned, so hot that it chilled, an indescribable mix of prickling but not unpleasant sensations. Up and up it twisted, claiming his torso, shoulders and arms. Zagreus held still—Chaos had never given him a reason to distrust their judgement or their motives. Were they even capable of deception? Even so, his stomach turned with apprehension.

The odorless black tickled his nostrils, and involuntarily he breathed in—took the egg’s contents into his sinuses. From there it flowed down his throat, into his stomach and lungs—into his blood. With an abrupt haste it dove into him and spread, branching out and infecting every particle of his flesh. He lurched forward, gagging uncontrollably, but that only seemed to accelerate it. Bubbling dark fell over his eyes and he was caught, changed, permeated by the immeasurable expanse of the universe.

And it felt...pretty good.

***

Thanatos hadn’t really known fear until he felt Zagreus ripped from his arms.

For thousands of years he had ferried the dead from the world above to the world below. His work had been challenging at times, sometimes even distressing. Humans had a talent for making all things more difficult than they needed to be. But his life, such as it was, was one of order, and monotony, and purpose. He had no enemies and did not seek what he could not have. Very rarely had he experienced loss; he couldn’t have prepared himself for the actual fear that gripped him when the weight of Zagreus’ red-hot soul was so abruptly gone. He reached the Temple of Styx alone.

“Zagreus?” he called foolishly, as if there was any chance that his friend had made it most of the way somehow, and was only a chamber or two away. He turned about in search of him even knowing it was futile. He’d lost him.

“Damn,” Thanatos hissed, and immediately he shifted back, trying to find the exact chamber they had started from. The ever-changing expanse of Tartarus was less than cooperative; even in tracing his path, the columns and pools he arrived in were unfamiliar. He tried again, and again, flashing from one to the next, hoping to sense rabid shades being ripped apart by Zagreus' flailing blade. He’d done so a dozen times already—it should have been simple. He should have been able to find him.

Aimlessly shifting from one area of the underworld to the next was getting him nowhere. In a flash Thanatos returned to the Master’s House, praying that he would find Zagreus dragging himself from the pool like always. He found only Achilles standing next to Hades’ desk, anxiously waiting while Hypnos pestered him for information. He didn’t wait to answer any of their questions, instead shifting immediately into Zagreus’ room, and then the courtyard beyond. The Stygian Blade was still missing from its ethereal sheath, and there was no sign of Zagreus.

He’s gone, Thanatos thought, followed by, He can’t be gone—he’s still a god. He’s somewhere. Find him. He gripped his scythe in both hands and shifted back into Tartarus. You have to find him.

There was only one area of Tartarus he could pinpoint with any true accuracy: its exit. He reached the boundary between the layers, and in the expansive final chamber he found Megaera, whip in hand, staring intently at the entrance.

“Megaera.” Thanatos’ toes skimmed the stone floor as he glided swiftly to her. “Has Zagreus come through here yet?”

“Do you think I would still be standing here like this, if he had?” Megara retorted. She eyed him suspiciously; he could only imagine what he looked like then. “Are you here to help me stop him? Or to talk me out of it?”

“I just need to know he’s all right,” Thanatos admitted before he could think better of it. “I...I lost him.”

“Lost him? What does that even mean?”

“I…” Thanatos hardened his expression against what he assumed would be Megaera’s fierce admonishment. “I tried to take him to the surface.”

As expected, Megaera turned on him with venom. “You what? Have you lost your mind?”

“I had to.” That wasn’t quite true; Thanatos grimaced, remembering the way Zagreus’ words, I need you, had carved themselves into him. How could he have been so foolishly sentimental at a time like this? “But I wasn’t able to—I lost him. He’s not back at the House, so he must still be here in Tartarus somewhere.”

“You know that’s not really true,” said Megaera. Someone who hadn’t known her as long as Thanatos might have mistaken her coldness for anger, rather than concern. “If you were shifting at the time, he could be anywhere! Or nowhere.”

“No,” Thanatos said immediately, shuddering at the prospect. “No, he has to be—”

“It’s all right, Than,” said Zagreus. “I’m right here.”

The pair of them whirled toward the chamber’s entrance, where Zagreus appeared as if he had been waiting for his cue all along. Whatever elation Thanatos might have felt was swiftly crushed out of his lungs along with his breath: something was incredibly wrong with him. The Stygian Blade clasped in his grip was pitch dark and swirling with tendrils of ghostly energy, an eerie shadow of its current master: Zagreus’ skin was pale, his eyes blackened, and the fire that crackled off his heels burned so hot it shone blue-white.

Megaera eyed him warily. “What the hell have you done?”

Zagreus strode forward; each step was somehow lighter and heavier at once, as if he might break out into a full sprint at any moment. “A gift from Lord Chaos,” he replied, and Thanatos would have gasped, if only he could breathe at all. “With this, I can get back to my mother—and defeat Ares, if I have to.” His gaze turned on Thanatos. “Thanks for trying, but I can take it from here.”

“Zag…” Thanatos gulped. “Are you…all right?” He looked to Zagreus’ sword hand, where veins of inky black seemed to be crawling up his wrist from his sword. “You don’t seem like yourself.”

“I’m not.” Zagreus stopped in front of the pair of them, and now that he was closer, it was clear that he was trembling beneath a layer of sweat. “But ‘myself’ alone was never enough to get me up there before, so it sure as hell isn’t enough now. This will have to do.” He gestured for them to move aside. “Please get out of my way.”

“No,” said Megaera, readying her whip. “Not this time—especially not now, that you’ve done this.”

“I’m serious, Meg,” he said, and something in his voice echoed and blurred grotesquely, as if there were other mouths behind his own, speaking in unison. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Hmph! As if—”

Zagreus started moving before she’d finished; Thanatos lifted his scythe, as he and Megaera were close enough, and the energy peeling off Zagreus so intense, that it triggered a defensive instinct in him he hadn’t remembered existed. But Zagreus wasn’t attacking; he swerved before they could collide, streaking around the pair in an attempt to race past them to the exit. As sudden as it was, Megaera reacted without any hesitation. With a quick spin her whip snapped around Zagreus’ biceps and yanked him back. He faltered, but only for a moment. He let go of his sword to instead wrap his hand around Megaera’s whip and pulled, using greater strength than either had ever seen him employ to drag her clear off her feet. With a shift of his weight he swung her hard into the nearest wall—she hit with a sickening thunk and a startled yelp—and as the whip loosened around his arm he tried again to flee.

Thanatos intercepted him. He didn’t see when Zagreus managed to reclaim Stygius, but as they met in the immense doorway their blades clashed in a flare of chaotic black.

“What are you doing?” Zagreus demanded, and the hurt in his tone threatened Thanatos’ resolve. “You just agreed to help me, and now you’re on her side?”

Thanatos ground his teeth; he was putting a good deal of strength into holding Zagreus at bay, and yet he felt as if he were being pushed back. “I did, and I will,” he said. “I’ll help you get to the surface, I promise—but not like this.” Cracks of empty black were already stretching out from Zagreus’ eyes. “Not even a god can wield the power of Chaos—you’re putting yourself in danger.”

“I don’t want to hear it!”

Zagreus twisted his sword, deftly waylaying Thanatos’ scythe. Before he could take advantage, however, Megaera’s whip again caught him—this time around the neck. She pulled him away from Thanatos but had learned her lesson, releasing him before he could again use her own weapon against her. With Zagreus off his balance, Thanatos shot forward, throwing him to the ground with one powerful thrust to the chest.

“I’m sorry,” Thanatos said as Zagreus sprung back to his feet. “You’ll understand when this is over.”

Zagreus rubbed his neck as he glared between the two of them. The rogueish spikes of his hair began to sway and reach, as if becoming something other than hair. “I guess I should have known I couldn’t count on either of you,” he muttered.

Thanatos’ knuckles whitened around the grip of his scythe, but Megaera beat him to a reply. “Zag, I am sorry,” she said, with a steel-plated sincerity that was lost on Zagreus. “Sorry that I couldn’t stop you from making it to the surface at all. Maybe you would have given up sooner, if only I’d prevented you.” She lowered herself into a readied stance. “I won’t fail again.”

“Then like I said,” Zagreus replied, “I won’t hold back.”

He streaked forward even faster than he had a moment ago; it was all Thanatos could do to intercept again, parrying sword against scythe. Megaera attacked from behind, but Zagreus anticipated her and disengaged just in time. Though both assumed he would try again for the exit, instead he immediately spun about and struck. Blow for blow he pushed Megaera back, the blackened Stygius charring her bracers. He shouldn’t have been so fast—he couldn’t have been so powerful.

You’ll have to kill him, Thanatos thought as he pulled back for a moment to brace himself for it. Kill him, and sort it out back at the House. With a deep breath, he lunged.

A glowing red eye opened in the back of Zagreus’ neck, spotting him, and Zagreus turned on him in an instant. With one bare hand he knocked the scythe aside, and in the next instant his sword rushed forward, carving into Thanatos’ chest. It buzzed and burned, and Thanatos could only gape incredulously. His feet touched the ground but would not hold him, and he grabbed for Zagreus’ tunic as he crumbled to his knees.

“I’m sorry, Than,” Zagreus said quietly. He cradled the back of Thanatos’s neck with his free hand as the waters of the Styx clawed up his thighs. His eyes were full black and and his skin nearly white. “But maybe it’s time you knew what this feels like.”

He wrenched his sword free, and for the first time, death bled as the river swallowed him down.

Thanatos had carried untold thousands of departed souls to the underworld; he himself had never known death. He had in his millennia of servitude gleaned the basics: pain, and light, and cold. But he had always imagined them to be exaggerated by his charges, and dulled by the comforting knowledge that death was change rather than devastation. He was a bearer of glad tidings treated unfairly as calamity. His duty was as sacred as it was necessary.

But as he dragged himself from the Pool of Styx—chest burning but extremities ice cold, blinded, gagging—he saw how naïve those beliefs had been. In the brief moments he spent in Styx’s endless stream, he felt as if some deep and inexplicable part of him had been wrested away. He feared, without reason, without comfort. A terrible, unbearable loneliness crushed him from every side, punishing him with sensations of failure and finality he’d never had the imagination to ponder before. Thanatos wilted on the marble steps, terrified that he would never see Zagreus again.

Is this really what it’s like? he thought, hands trembling against his chest. Is this really what he’s felt, every damn time?

“Thanatos…?” Hypnos crept toward him, wide-eyed and clutching his placard as if it were his shield. “Um...wow. Are you...all right?”

Thanatos shook his head. As he struggled to collect his thoughts and decide what he could possibly do next, a gentle hand touched his shoulder. He rubbed his face and lifted his gaze to find Nyx crouched beside him with concern.

“Mother,” he said, and his throat went tight.

“Achilles told me what’s happening,” she said gently. Her eyes clouded over with worry. “Did Zagreus do this to you?”

“He...yes.” Thanatos took a deep breath, and with Nyx taking his elbow they stood together. “He’s gone too far this time. We have to find him before it’s too late.”

“We will, child.” She called her staff to her and threaded her fingers through his. “Let us go.”

***

Dispatching of Megaera was simple enough after Thanatos was gone. She cursed him as she sank into the Styx, but then, she always did. Zagreus continued on, telling himself not to worry about her.

He told himself not to worry about Thanatos, either.

He’s the God of Death, he thought as he sliced and hacked his way through the fiery denizens of once-lovely Asphodel. He can take it. He told himself not to think about the heart-breaking face turned up toward him, gold eyes pale with disbelief. He’ll understand. He no longer felt the magma beneath his white-hot feet as he skidded along its blazing surface. He ought to understand. He knows what I’m going through—he knows Ares! Why would he even try to get in my way?

He’s just mad I’m stronger than him now, a gnarled little thought twisted at the base of his brain. He swept around and beneath the curving, screaming heads of the Hydra, severing vertebrae all the while. Meg, too. They don’t think I can handle this, and they’re wrong.

No, they’re just worried. Zagreus shattered “Learnie” into bone dust and carried on without looking back, without losing his breath. On to Elysium. He was moving so quickly now that he felt as if his skin were rippling over his muscles. This feels strange. I don’t know if I—

No, I’m fine. I have to make it to her.

It’s fine.

You can do this.

The heroes of Elysium were no match for him. The Myrmidons scattered like seeds spilling from an overripe pomegranate—chariots and butterflies were incinerated in his unholy wake. He slaughtered his way through Hades’ paradise all the way to the coliseum where twin challengers Theseus and Asterius awaited him. By the time he stepped out into the pit, he vibrated down to his marrow. He gripped Stygius so tightly it nearly melted into his palm, and everywhere he looked, tiny spots of bright light glinted like dust particles on his eyes.

“The blackguard is showing his true colors, now,” Theseus taunted as he hefted his spear. “See, Asterius? Eyes black as—”

“Wait,” said Asterius, his great nostrils flaring. “Something...isn’t right.”

“This is the last time I’m going to say this,” Zagreus called to the pair as he advanced on heavy strides. “Get out of my way.”

“Yield?” Thesus scoffed. “Never! We’ve bested you far more times than—”

Zagreus charged. He crossed the remaining distance in the span of a blink, his sword eager to carve the same knowledge of death into the blowhard that he had imparted on Thanatos earlier. His arm glued to the sword ached for it. Theseus was caught completely by surprise and would have been summarily impaled if not for Asterius shoving him out of the way. He accepted the full weight and power of Zagreus’ attack against his axe; the blade cracked and almost shattered in his hands.

“Go,” Asterius said, and just before the weapon could give way completely, he twisted free and backed away. “Go, Zagreus. We won’t stop you.”

Zagreus straightened up, an unexpected, ill feeling settling over him as he watched Asterius position himself carefully between him and Theseus. Protectively. “What are you doing?” Theseus shouted, unsatisfied, but even when he tried to move out from around his partner, he was prevented. “We can't just let him pass—we have a duty to uphold!”

“Not this time,” Asterius insisted, and he nodded for Zagreus to continue. “Go on.”

Zagreus grimaced. Don’t think about it, he told himself yet again as he streaked from the arena. Everything’s under control.

***

Thanatos materialized on the surface next to his mother among the icy snow. As many times as he had been to the mortal plane, the wintery dark had never felt more oppressive. He worried that Goddess Demeter herself had already descended, but as they moved away from the Temple of Styx, they came across several other figures: Ares, Athena, Hades, and a woman Thanatos had only seen briefly before, whom he now knew to be Zagreus’ mother, Persephone.

“You haven’t listened to a thing I’ve said,” Hades was saying, his fists tight at his sides as he faced down the Olympians...and his former wife. “What you’re after simply cannot be.”

“So you say,” replied Ares. He had seated himself on a fallen log as they waited, sword in hand. Nearby, Athena stood at Persephone’s side, a hand on her shoulder—as protection, or as restraint, Thanatos couldn’t immediately judge. “But you have hidden his existence entirely all this time. How are we to believe anything you say on his behalf?”

Nyx moved to Hades’ side; he regarded her arrival with barely concealed relief. “Lord Ares. Pardon the intrusion. If there is something you wish to ask or know of young Zagreus, perhaps you’d prefer to put your questions to me.”

“Would I?” Ares raised his eyebrows as he picked a bit of grit out from under his fingernail with the point of his sword. “It was you who revealed the boy to us, yes, but under false pretenses.”

“You lied to me,” Athena put it more bluntly, fixing Nyx with a steely look that had Thanatos’ hackles rising. “You had us believe his aim was to join us on Olympus.”

“I implied it, yes, in hopes of gaining your assistance.”

“You used us.”

“Athena, please,” Persephone interrupted. “He’s only a boy—he didn’t know any better.”

“Can you blame him, though?” came another voice, and everyone turned to see Artemis hop onto a snow-covered stone to the side of the argument. She crouched down on the balls of her feet. “Look at how you’re reacting over one slight. Small wonder he doesn’t want anything to do with us.”

“That’s not true,” Thanatos said, though when eyes swiveled to him, he nearly faltered. “Zagreus has only ever spoken favorably of all of you. It’s because you’re all family that he sought your help.” He swallowed and straightened up. “He was willing to give up everything he has below to come this far. And he’s done so again—we don’t have time for this—”

Nyx set her hand on his shoulder to quiet him. “It was wrong of me to deceive you,” she said calmly. “And I apologize. But I’m certain that Hades has already told you the truth: it is not possible for Zagreus to travel to Olympus, whatever his desires may be. The Fates have deemed it so.”

“The Fates—your daughters?” challenged Ares, still smugly unconvinced. “Convenient, that.”

“This is utterly pointless,” growled Hades. “You have no authority over my son and my house, so why don’t you flit back up to your mountain where you belong?”

“Then Kore comes with us,” said Athena, her hand still poised on Persephone’s shoulder. “Unless there is some secret pact of The Fates that prevents her as well?”

Hades and Nyx both tensed, and Thanatos could see in Persephone’s face a hardening of grief. Though he only knew fragments of the situation from Zagreus’ tellings, there was no mistaking what a heavy cost Athena was demanding of her cousin.

“Persephone ought to be free to choose on her own,” said Hades. “She has nothing to do with us and Zagreus now—she’s not your bargaining tool.”

Persephone’s grimace deepend at his words, but before she could reply, another pair emerged from the surrounding woods: Dionysus and Aphrodite, the latter drawing a bearskin cloak over her naked shoulders against the cold. “Why shouldn’t she want to return with us?” Aphrodite asked, her hair twisting in the air. “She’s family, and she’s been gone for so long.” She fixed Persephone with a reproachful eye. “Your mother has been dreadful ever since.”

“We don’t have time for this,” Thanatos said under his breath, glancing back toward the temple.

Nyx tightened her grip on Thanatos’ shoulder. “Wait,” she whispered. “You don’t know how delicate this situation really is.”

“Well, Ares?” Hades goaded. He gestured to the ever-growing assembly. “You threatened to tell all of Olympus if I didn’t accede to your demands, but all of Olympus is already here, and you ask the impossible. Can we not end this farce already?”

“We all know who has yet to discover us here,” Ares rejoined easily. “I have nothing to fear from her wrath. Do you?”

“We don’t have time for this!” Thanatos shouted, Nyx’s warnings be damned. “You don’t know what he’s done. He’ll be here soon, and if you’re still fighting then, he’ll—”

A chill ran up his spine, and he turned again, warily eying the temple entrance. Nyx’s voice nearby faded from his ears, as did the confusion and irritation from the others. Death’s intuition was never wrong: he could feel that horrible blackness drawing closer, a spark of blue-white flames in the dark.

“What is it this time?” Hades asked impatiently. “What has he done?” But then he saw it, too, and his eyes grew wide.

Zagreus emerged from the Temple of Styx, and everyone in the clearing went silent. His already pale skin shone a ghastly white and was peppered with eyes—sickly, blood-red eyes that rolled in dozens of sockets, the most prominent bulging from his forehead and chest. His hair whipped and flickered like fire, and his body jerked with each step as if each muscle were being drawn by a separate string. The snow hissed and spit beneath his feet as he approached, and even the mighty gods of above and below moved back in alarm. Much like poor Cerberus, shivering from the temple doorway behind his master.

“Oh, child,” whispered Nyx, her hand at her mouth.

Zagreus jerked to a halt. Breathing hard, he leveled the twisted, blackened Stygius at Ares. “Get away from my mother,” he said, his voice a chorus.

Ares stood, sword gripped as he viewed Zagreus’ transformation. His shock transitioned smoothly into fascination. “Looks like I was right about you,” he murmured.

“Get away,” Zagreus demanded again, “from my mother.”

Athena drew her hand from Persephone’s shoulder, allowing her to take a step forward. “Zagreus,” Persephone called. “I’m all right. Whatever you’re doing...please stop. I’m fine.”

Thanatos licked his lips, but his mouth was entirely dry. It hadn’t even felt like a full hour since he saw Zagreus last, and he had already deteriorated so far. Is he even still in there? He could have sworn the Stygian Blade was still lodged beneath his ribs, twisting with every step Zagreus took closer. Megaera and I together weren’t a match for him before. And now…

“What’s happened to him?” asked Artemis, stealthily adjusting the grip on her bow. “I assume he’s not normally like this.”

“He’s accepted a boon from Chaos,” said Nyx grimly. “A more powerful gift than he can bear.”

Zagreus scoffed, and though he was breathing hard, he drew himself to his full height. “It’s okay, Nyx,” he said, and as grateful as Thanatos was to hear him say something more in character, the words repeated by several tiny mouths opening along his ribs only concerned him more. “I can handle this just fine. I’m stronger than you think.” All of his grotesque red eyes swiveled toward Hades. “Than any of you think.”

Hades stared back at him. He was uncharacteristically still and silent; when Thanatos looked closer, he may have even been sweating.

“No need to speak for me, lad,” said Ares. While the rest of his Olympian family gave Zagreus a wide berth, he boldly stepped forward. “I’ve never underestimated you. I’ve always believed your strength was as great as any of ours, and deserving of Olympus.”

“I’m not here for Olympus; I’m here for my mother.” Zagreus motioned for her to come forward, but Persephone did not move. “She left for a good reason and you’re going to leave her alone from now on.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” Ares stopped just beyond Zagreus’ immediate striking range; though his voice and manner were easy, his grip around his sword was unmistakably poised for combat if need be. “She’s family, and so are you. More importantly, you’re a hunter, Zagreus. Think of what we could accomplish together.” He gestured with his free hand to the surrounding snow. “This winter has plagued mankind for a generation. It has led to war after war—exhaustive, continuous war among them.”

“By your own doing,” Thanatos retorted. “And for your own benefit.”

Ares accepted his criticism with a shrug. “Would you believe I’ve grown bored of it? Starving, half-frozen armies clawing at each other—no heroes, only survivors. You must be as exhausted with it as I am?” Thanatos ground his teeth and refused to answer, so he continued. “Once Demeter learns that not only is her darling daughter alive, but that she has a grandson?” He chuckled as their audience continued to look on in trepidation. “A fury unlike Olympus has seen, I’m sure, but after? The siege of winter, broken—health and bounty again, enough for the mortals to replenish, to rebuild.”

He took a step closer, his hand reaching forward in welcome. “Your strength, your hunger for the fight is near a match for mine,” he said as if he were conveying a heavy compliment. “Think of the wars we could set into motion then, Zagreus. Glutted armies breeding true heroes, enough to fill your father’s underworld with souls worthy of Elysium, rather than the sulking, pathetic shades that wander it now.”

Zagreus’ many eyes narrowed sharply, and some of them were joined by lips which scowled and murmured. That struck a nerve, for some reason, Thanatos thought, his palms clammy again as he readied his scythe. This isn’t going to end well.

“You think I care about your wars?” Zagreus said, ignoring the offered hand to glower at Ares’ face. “You want me to sacrifice my mother’s happiness so you can raise stronger mortals to pit against each other?”

“Exactly.” Ares chuckled again. “Though you put it too harshly. Olympus is her home, after all. She belongs—”

Zagreus swung his arm. It took much too little effort than it should have—the corrupted Stygius cleaved through Ares’ torso, armor and all, from the base of his ribs to his shoulder all in one smooth arc. Ares’ face was locked in an expression of shock as he crumbled and was swiftly consumed by the eager Styx.

Aphrodite screamed. Everyone reared back, and even Zagreus staggered as if taken off guard by his own actions. Then his gaze fell on his mother again, and he jolted back into action. He crossed the distance as a blurred shadow; Athena, standing still too close to Persephone, barely had enough time to raise her shield before Stygius was raking against it with a hair-raising squeal.

“Get away from my mother,” he growled, the words rolling over and over in his voices as if they were becoming less than words: more like the instinctual utterings of an animal. Athena tried to hold her ground, but even within moments her shield began to splinter.

“Zagreus, stop!” Persephone grabbed his sword arm and tried to drag him back. “You can stop now—I’m here, I’m fine!”

She managed to pull him away long enough for Athena to retreat, but then Zagreus doubled over, groaning and grimacing. Thanatos started to move toward him only for Nyx to clasp his wrist.

“He needs to be killed,” she told him urgently. “He’s not meant to survive above, but Chaos is too powerful to be overruled. Only death will free him from Chaos and uphold The Fates’ design.”

“Can’t you help him?” Thanatos asked. It had been one thing, cutting Zagreus down when he was well and asking for it—another thing entirely when he was shouting in pain, his own mother helpless at his side. “With your power—”

“Death is your dominion, my son, not mine.” She pressed her hand to his back, and he felt flow into him a sliver of her power: the cool and soothing dark that had been his comfort since childhood. “Please hurry—he needs you.”

His heart skipped. He needs me, he thought, letting the words pound behind his ribs. With a deep breath he turned again to face Zagreus.

By then Zagreus had turned away from Persephone as well. The eyes were rolling about in his skin and the mouths had grown teeth which were beginning to chatter incessantly. It was finally becoming apparent even to him that he had overestimated his control of Chaos’s great boon, and his body was contorting too far beneath the weight of it. Thanatos let go of his scythe, and he and his loyal companion levitated off the ground as he began his spell. Out from below Zagreus’ feet a ring of amethyst began to glow and spread. Glittering runes carved concentric circles around him in the tousled snow. As Hades dragged Persephone out of range, Thanatos put all his concentration into the magic, determined to end Zagreus’s life in one brilliant flash—swift and painless, as he deserved. With a flick of his wrist, the scythe twisted, and the spell fired.

Zagreus went rigid at the center of it. The eyes bulged wide and the chattering ceased, as if he were suspended in time. Then the light faded, as did the darkness—leaving him where he stood, pale and unharmed. Still on his feet.

He set his gaze on Thanatos with a look of betrayal that turned his stomach.

Hades charged. With Gigaros in hand he lunged at his only son, clearly intent on ending the confrontation with violence where magic had failed. Though Zagreus was tottering and stiff, he still parried the attack easily, and the hurt and confusion twisting his faces hardened into bitter wrath. With a furious shout he threw his fist into Hades’ stomach with such force that it knocked the wind out of him and sent him skidding back.

“You’re still trying to stop me now, Father?” Zagreus said incredulously. “After all these times I’ve bested you? Even now that I’ve won?”

“Zagreus, you have to stop this,” Hades demanded as retook a combative stance. Discreetly he rubbed his abdomen where Zagreus had struck. “You will obey me this time.”

“No!” Zagreus snarled, his flesh bubbling and hair stretching outward like wings. “This time, you listen to me!”

He attacked almost more swiftly than Thanatos could see. Hades managed to block Stygius at first, but his spear creaked in complaint every time they clashed, as if it might shatter apart at any moment. It was only a matter of time before Zagreus bested him again, while Persephone looked on, tears on her face. Thanatos could only stare, feeling just as helpless.

If my magic can’t stop him, what can I do? He watched each trading of blows for some opening, but already he could see the eye on the back of Zagreus’ neck trained on him, daring him to try. I have to help him, but how?

“You’re going to have to move a lot faster if you’re going to get in there,” said Hermes, and Thanatos startled as a hand pressed into his back. He felt the charge of swift magic flow into him, bright and invigorating. He had never accepted a gift of magic from an Olympian, but as its strength fueled his unsteady limbs, he understood the appeal immediately.

Artemis touched him next, giving him clarity and focus. “Don’t miss,” she said.

Zagreus knocked his father to the ground. His breath was heaving and a fine mist began to pour from his nostrils and the corners of his mouth like noxious fog. Before he could deliver a killing blow, Athena intervened. She managed to deflect a few blows from Stygius before he simply kicked the center of the shield, throwing her bodily through the air. With the help of his new gifts, Thanatos managed to intercept—catching her before she could be cast into the pines. As he lowered her to her feet, she clasped his wrist.

“Olympus protect you,” she said, and he felt his skin grow hard and glossy.

“So you’ve all turned on me?” Zagreus wavered back and forth, his unfocused gaze sweeping from one to the next. “You were only ever helping me to help yourselves, just like Ares. Is that it?”

“No, child,” Nyx implored. She knelt next to Persephone in the snow, wrapping her arms around her. “We’re trying to help you.”

Zagreus carried on as if he hadn’t heard—his ears and mind were far away. “I did it all for you,” he said, some of the voices that made up the words shouting, others tearful, still others coldly accusatory. “I just wanted you to want me. Why did you tell me to go?”

Dionysis and Aphrodite crept forward to join Athena, and while doing so each took one of Thanatos’ hands to offer up their power as well—refilling his stamina and his hope, and lifting in him an inspiration. With mind and magic he guided his scythe in an arc along the treeline, hoping not to draw Zagreus’s attention too closely as it made its way over to Lord Hades. Hades caught on immediately; the moment he touched the scythe and granted his own power, the weapon vanished.

“Zagreus...I’m so sorry.” Persephone clasped her hands together as she stared up at him. “I was only trying to protect you. We all are.”

“It was for you,” Zagreus repeated, and his head lolled from side to side like a broken doll. “My mother. It was for my mother.” The eyes spun and the teeth chattered and the flesh bubbled as if ready to burst at the seams. “My mother,” he said again, over and over, and even the air around him shivered as he clutched Stygius with both hands. “Stay away from my mother!”

“Zagreus!” Thanatos shouted, and as Zagreus jerked around, he streaked forward to meet him. Stygius screamed at him, fit to cleave the air itself, but with the will of gods behind him Thanatos reacted in time—clapped his hands together to catch the blade mere centimeters from his face. The full might of Chaos swarmed over him and he clenched his jaws, struggling not to be overwhelmed.

“It’s all right, Zag,” he said, staring straight into his contorted face. His scythe pinwheeled toward them. “I’ve got you.”

Swift and accurate, invisible and undeterrable, Death’s blade whipped through the air and stabbed Zagreus through the heart. He rocked from the blow and began to shake. Please, Thanatos prayed to The Fates as he watched Zagreus’ shudder and choke. Please let me help him.

One by one, Zagreus’ gruesome red eyes and clacking mouths sealed and vanished. His chalk-white skin darkened to its usual shade, and his groping hair receded to it familiar, charming disarray. “Tha…” His voice—his own, singular voice—spilled out of him in a strained whimper as he released Stygius. The blade vanished before it hit the ground.

“Than…?” he murmured, just before he collapsed into Thanatos’ waiting arms.

“I’ve got you,” Thanatos told him quietly. He let the gifts from his mother and the Olympians flow out of him as he wrapped Zagreus up and cradled him to his chest. His own power was all that was needed now. “I promise I won’t let go this time.”

He held Zagreus close and took them home.

***

Zagreus dreamed about infinity. It was terrifying at first, then strangely calming: so much deep black, stretching out in all directions endlessly; so many tiny points of light, each its own terrarium of possibilities. Lonely, and yet surrounded by billions just like him—small, insignifiant, and blissfully mundane. It certainly put things in perspective.

Is this what it’s like to rule all of reality? Zagreus wondered as the sensation of his own body gradually returned to him. Damn.

He woke up in his bed in the House of Hades, dressed only in his tunic. He couldn’t remember how he had gotten there, or why he felt so empty and lethargic. He stretched his stiff back and then startled when a hand touched his face, smoothing his wild hair back. The memory of those warm fingers woke him faster than his sight cleared: Thanatos was beside him.

“Zagreus?” Thanatos asked quietly, leaning over him. “Can you hear me?”

“Yeah.” Zagreus grumbled with exhaustion and managed to rub his eyes clear. “Than? What…”

Then it all came rushing back—Ares, the egg, the snowy clearing. His breath tangled in his throat and he looked up to Thanatos, helpless in his anxiety. “Blood and darkness, what have I—”

“It’s all right,” Thanatos told him quickly. He set his hand on Zagreus’ shoulder just in time to prevent him from bolting upright. “It’s all right now, and so is your mother.” He snorted. “So is Ares, for that matter. It’s over, Zag.”

Zagreus relaxed again, though he still felt ill all over, guilt and shame heavy in his gut. “I’m sorry.” He met Thanatos’ eyes with trepidation. “Than, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

“The limitless power of the universe came over you,” Thanatos retorted. “And everyone knows that, so you don’t have to apologize. Just tell me you’re all right now.”

“I...think so.” It was hard to tell, actually—he was exhausted, overheated, and the memory of what he’d done and could have done churned nauseatingly through him. And it didn’t help that Thanatos was leaning over him in the dark, all his intensity so closely focused. “I feel itchy,” he admitted, aiming for levity as he scratched the side of his neck. “It didn’t seem like it at the time, but those eyes were pretty gross, right?”

Thanatos frowned and immediately reached down to yank Zagreus’ tunic open; Zagreus jumped. “Whoa—hey—” He tried to slap Thanatos’ hands away, but his friend would not be deterred until he had made a thorough examination of his chest and stomach, presumably looking for wayward eyes. Again Zagreus couldn’t help but note how unexpectedly warm his hands were, and he squirmed. “Than, hold on—is now the right time?”

Thanatos pulled a face, but as he continued to stare down at Zagreus with scrutiny, something changed. Without any further word or warning, he leaned down and kissed Zagreus full on the mouth.

Zagreus was too stunned to respond at first. Though he had devoted no small amount of imagination to what Thanatos’ lips would taste like, he wasn’t prepared for their urgency. Thanatos kissed him hard, his fingers twisted and shaking in his tunic. It was exhilarating, and at the same time uniquely humbling, to have stern, unflappable Thanatos pressing him into the mattress.

Zagreus finally recalled his wits enough to reach for him, but by then Thanatos was already pulling back. “It’s the right time,” Thanatos said. “For a while there...I thought I would never have another chance.”

Zagreus swallowed, and when he reached again Thanatos held still for him. He cupped Thanatos’ cheek and held his gaze, reading from his hooded, gold eyes, the entire encounter. “I’m sorry,” he said again, quietly this time as it took on new weight. “I really worried you, huh?”

Thanatos looked away, but he touched the back of Zagreus’ hand, keeping it close against his face. “Don’t ever do anything like that again,” he muttered.

“I’m not sure I could if I wanted, but all right. I promise.” He moved his thumb gently against Thanatos’ cheek; Thanatos leaning into it made his heart thump happily. “Thank you for saving me from...whatever was going to happen.”

Thanatos grimaced, evidently not even wanting to consider it. He nodded.

There was so much more to say, but a clack of footsteps approaching from the hall drove Thanatos back. Zagreus managed to sit up just as Megaera appeared in the doorway; the warm relief of the reunion was quickly seared away by reality and all its potential dangers. “Meg,” he said carefully. I owe a lot of people apologies after all that… “I’m sorry I let things get out of hand like that. Are you all right?”

Megaera folded her arms, but she didn’t look as angry as he had expected. “I’m fine,” she said, and after a moment her tone softened just a bit as she added, “We’ll be fine. But I think you’ll want to come be a part of this.”

Zagreus gulped, and though her concern filled him with trepidation, he immediately climbed out of the bed. “What’s going on?” he asked, straightening his clothing on his way to the door while Thanatos followed. “Where is everyone?”

“Just outside—come on.”

As they left the chamber, Zagreus felt Thanatos’ hand ghost across his back: a tender gesture of support that gave him the courage he needed.

Megaera pointed them in the direction of the east garden, but she didn’t go with them. Zagreus licked his lips as he crossed the threshold into a part of the house that had been sealed away for as long as he could remember. It was cast open now and buzzing with occupants. Hades’ deep voice rose above a cluster of others, and Zagreus ground his teeth; though his courage was up to the task of another argument, he wasn’t as sure his stamina was. Even so, he took a deep breath and stepped out into the garden.

“I don’t have to explain myself to any of you,” Hades was saying, and immediately it rose Zagreus’ hackles. But he stopped as soon as Zagreus and Thanatos entered; all conversation ceased, in fact, as all looked to him with wary curiosity.

“Oh, Zagreus!” Persephone rushed forward, and Zagreus stopped in his tracks. His emotions tangled with relief and guilt and he didn’t know what to do at first as she wrapped him up in a firm hug. “Oh, my boy, are you all right?” she asked, and then she pulled back to see for herself. “You look much better, at least.”

“Mother, I…” Zagreus nodded. “I’m all right now. I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right,” she quickly reassured him. “It’s going to be all right, just…” She lowered her voice so the others wouldn’t hear. “Let your father and I handle this now.”

Zagreus’ brow furrowed, and he couldn’t help but cast his father a distrustful look, but he nodded. “Okay.”

She stepped back, revealing the rest of the assembly: Athena, Ares, and the rest of the Olympians that had gathered outside the Temple of Styx were there, each of them whole, though a little wary. Hades and Nyx stood at the head, stoic before their guests, and directly across from them were three more additions that Zagreus had never met but recognized nonetheless: Zeus with his flowing beard, looking curious and amused; Poseidon, trident loosely in hand; and Demeter in her long braids and winter furs. Her steady glare gave Zagreus a chill, and as soon as their eyes met, she crossed the garden toward him.

Persephone tensed, and her anxiety in turn put Zagreus on edge. Demeter—my grandmother, he thought, standing tall and trying to look confident but not defiant. She’s the one everyone was most worried would find out about us. He took a deep breath. “Lady Demeter…”

Demeter stopped in front of him and looked him up and down. He didn’t know what he’d do if she tried to touch him, but she didn’t, simply regarding him in cool contemplation. “Little sprout,” she greeted him. “From the sound of it, you raised quite a fuss. You don’t seem quite so dreadful, now.”

“I got better,” Zagreus replied, taking his mother’s hand. Though Demeter’s manners were not necessarily kind, he sensed that they had nothing immediate to worry about. “I’m glad you weren’t there to see it—I’m a little embarrassed.” He glanced past her to the rest of the gathering. “I owe you all an apology, and my thanks.”

“You owe them,” Demeter corrected him, and already Zagreus was beginning to understand his mother’s choices that much better. “What you owe to me is an explanation.”

“Mother, it’s a long story,” said Persephone. “And it’s not going to change anything.”

“I’m sorry I lied to you, Grandmother,” Zagreus tried again, and he thought he saw a twinge of warmth around Demter’s eyes at his choice of address. “I wasn’t just trying to get to Olympus. And as it turns out, I can’t go there, anyway.”

“We’ve long since established that, actually.” Demeter turned to look significantly at Ares, who only offered the slightest of shrugs. She drew her attention back. “What we have yet to understand is how you came to be in the first place.”

“Oh Demeter, does it even matter?” said Zeus with a careless gesture. “Our dear Persephone is alive and well, and she’s delivered you a boast-worthy grandson. What more is there to know?”

Even though he was speaking in their defense, Hades and Persephone both grimaced. It made Zagreus more eager than ever to understand their full history. Demeter, likewise, remained undeterred. “There is everything to know,” she said firmly, turning toward Hades even as she continued to address Zeus. “Your brother absconded with my daughter and had me believe she was dead for years, all the while siring his heir by her.”

“Hey,” Zagreus said before he could stop himself. “It wasn’t like that.”

Persephone gave his hand a tug to quiet him as Hades took over, saying, “Your speculations are only that. If you cared for her well-being as much as you claim, you would not assume the worst of her intentions.”

“How else can I explain it, if neither of you will explain it yourselves? Olympus has the right to know.”

“She’s right,” agreed Athena. “We are family, we deserve an explanation.”

“That may be so,” Nyx rejoined, “but this is hardly the time and place for something so delicate.”

“Why would it be so delicate? We only want to know what happened.”

Persephone’s hand tightened around Zagreus’ as she tried to draw herself up. “You never listened to me when I was on Olympus,” she retorted. “Why should I believe you will now?”

Demeter leaned back, and though she was making an effort to remain stern, Zagreus could see clearly now that it was effort, disguising hurt. “Wait,” he said, but then everyone started talking and arguing at once, Artemis telling Athena to back off while Zeus and Poseidon grumbled at odds—Hades stubbornly insisting on nothing, as he had always done, while Nyx tried to intervene. Zagreus ground his teeth in frustration, feeling nearly as helpless as he had when his skin was threatening to tear apart. He stepped in front of Persephone. “I said, wait!”

“Excuse me,” said a familiar chorus of voices, and finally everyone stopped.

Zagreus spun around, goosebumps rippling all over as from the inside of the House, Chaos themselves emerged. They were not quite as Zagreus had seen them last, however: instead of the gaping ribs and dangling cornucopia of faces, they sported a twisting, feathery robe and faintly visible legs. Not that they walked—much like Thanatos, Chaos preferred to drift, as they approached with calm and steady purpose.

Zagreus stepped to the side, still holding his mother’s hand—assuming that Chaos meant to pass him and take the garden’s center, to address them all as their ancient creator. Each regarded them with shock and awe and could barely keep their eyes on them, let alone speak. But Chaos had no such intentions of addressing them; they moved in front of Zagreus and then stopped, utterly ignoring everyone else.

“Zagreus,” Chaos greeted, and all around jaws dropped at their casual familiarity. “As you recently came uninvited into my presence, so too do I now come to yours. Let us both not make a habit of it, though it is a pleasant enough deviation from the norm, do you not agree?”

Though there was a pit in Zagreus’ stomach that remembered too well how recently and how devastatingly he had almost been shredded from existence by their charming visitor, he reminded himself quickly that Chaos had always been an ally to him, and that there was no reason for fear. “I agree,” he said, startling everyone with his own easy answer. “I’m glad to see you again so soon. I hope you’re not disappointed with how I used your gift…?”

“On the contrary; you exceeded fully half of my expectations. It was all excessively entertaining.”

Chaos reached into their feathery cloak and pulled from it another black egg, just like the one they had delivered earlier. Zagreus’ fingers tingled as he accepted it, all eyes around the garden locked on him. “In fact,” Chaos continued, “I’ve decided to offer it to you again. Such is my nature that should you use it again, the outcome is likely to be very different, and it amuses me to consider even greater possibilities. However, do not feel the need to do so now. I am confident that its effects will be most observable at a time of your own choosing.”

Zagreus cradled the egg gently in one hand. Once again it felt oddly weighted in his palm, as if something inside were jostling back and forth. It’s so small, he thought, feeling oddly wistful, yet so powerful. “Thank you, Lord Chaos. I promise I’ll take good care of it until the time comes.”

“It does not require your care, but I do appreciate the sentiment you’re expressing.” Chaos straightened up, seemingly pleased, and swept their gaze briefly over the rest of the gods gathered. Though each tensed beneath the many eyes, Chaos gave them only the barest consideration. “Please pardon my intrusion,” they said, and then they were gone—no flash of light or gradual disappearance, just gone, as if they had never been there.

No one stirred in Chaos’ wake. Zagreus licked his lips and looked to Thanatos—though startled and maybe even shaken by the unexpected visit, Thanatos returned his searching look with a nod of encouragement. Here goes nothing, Zagreus thought, and he faced his large family. At least they’re all quiet now.

“I know you’ve all been through a lot,” he said. “And that I’ve...contributed to the wedge between you. That’s not what I wanted when I started all of this, but I didn’t know everything. I still don’t.” He glanced at his mother, who looked close to tears again—but she nodded, so he continued. “All I wanted was to be closer to the family I didn’t know—my mother, and all of you. And I hope there’s still time for that. For now, though...please, won’t you be patient with us a little while longer?” He saved the last of his attention for Demeter. “I think we could use a little time to calm down before any of us...says something we’ll regret.”

Demeter frowned, and everyone held their breath as she regarded her daughter and grandson. At long last, she sighed. “Oh, daughter,” she murmured, and she offered her hand. “I think your son may be right. For now, at least know how much joy it brings me to know you’re even alive at all—just as I’m sure you felt now, for your own child. The rest...we can talk about another time.”

Persephone blinked at her, mystified, but she did take her mother’s hand; Demeter clasped it in both of hers. It was only a brief moment, as both released the other soon after, but it was sincere—a promise for reconciliation in their futures.

Nyx stepped closer then, the pinnacle of calming grace as she touched Persephone’s shoulder. “Lady Demeter, let us meet on the surface at the upcoming equinox,” she suggested. “I would be happy and honored to relay any messages between you two, and to perhaps arrange something when tempers have cooled. There can be no reason for disharmony between Hades and Olympus from now on. I’ll help facilitate in any way I can.”

Hades himself turned away; Demeter harrumphed quietly, ever more back to herself. “That will do just fine,” she said. “And now.” She turned with a flourish to face the rest of the Olympians. “It’s time we left you to tend to that eager little sprout.”

“Thank you, Mother,” Persephone said, and Demeter faltered only a moment more, before she shifted away in a swirl of chill wind.

Some awkwardness followed, but it was Hermes who acted next, breaking that tension. He popped over to Zagreus’ side and shook his hand—pretending he wasn’t anxious about the Cosmic Egg still held in the other. “Glad to finally meet you face to face, cos,” he said happily. “But like the lady said, best not overstay our welcome. Sure I’ll see you in the field soon.” He saluted and bolted off again.

The rest of the Olympians took their turns, doing very admirable work of pretending they were offering nothing more than cordial goodbyes. Even Zeus clapped him on the back and congratulated him on slicing Ares in two before departing, Hades scowling all the while. Ares himself came last, and though Zagreus eyed him suspiciously, there was no malice left in his face or manner, and he had little choice but to shake his hand.

“Zagreus,” said Ares, a smirk tugging his lips. “No hard feelings?”

“We’re going to live for thousands of years after this,” Zagreus replied with quirked lips of his own. He gripped Ares’ hand harder than he needed to—not enough to make a competition of it, but enough to get his point across. “It wouldn’t do for us to hold grudges.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Ares’s eye twitched just slightly as he extricated his hand. “I still think we could craft incredible heroes together. We’ll talk again.”

Zagreus allowed him to have the last word. Once only the denizens of the underworld remained, he took one last deep breath and faced his mother properly.

“I think you should go back for now,” he said, and though it hurt to say—even more when Persephone reacted with surprise—he knew it was the right choice and continued. “There’s nothing I want more than for you to be here with me, but I don’t know if either of us are ready for that. Just please…” His throat threatened to close around the words, but he pushed them through. “Please don’t ask me not to seek you out again. I can give you space if that’s what you need, but I won’t say goodbye—I can’t.”

“Oh Zagreus…” Persephone wiped her eyes and nodded, once again taking his hand. “I’m so sorry for what I’ve put you through. I promise I’ll make it up to you, and you’re right. Seeing you like that…” She shuddered and gripped him tight. “I need you in my life, too.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Zagreus reassured her. “We have plenty of time.”

“Zagreus.”

Hades approached them: awkward, but determined. He held out his hand. “Give me the egg.”

“No,” Zagreus said without hesitation, though seeing Hades’ obvious concern, he added, “I’m not going to use it. But I want to keep it...as a reminder.”

“It was given to him by Lord Chaos,” Thanatos added. “You’d dare defy them?”

Hades grimaced as he withdrew his hand. “Then...you had better be careful with it,” he said, and he turned back toward the House. “I don’t...I don’t ever want to see you like that again.”

He left, and for once Zagreus was too exhausted to be frustrated with him. He allowed Nyx to take Persephone away with promises to look after her, and to aid in their reconciliation moving forward. It was not the perfect family ending Zagreus truly wanted, but it was hope, and it was enough, for the time being. He and Thanatos returned inside, offering Achilles his reassurances that all was well before retreating again into Zagreus’ bedchamber.

“Damn, I’m still exhausted,” Zagreus said as he placed his new “trophy” among the belongings on his desk, next to the prophecies left to him by The Fates. “It feels weird after all that excitement, but...I think I should get some more sleep.”

“Can I stay?” Thanatos asked. “I’m still worried about what happened to you up there—I want to keep an eye on you.”

Zagreus turned to him with eyebrows raised. “You want to watch me sleep?” he asked wryly.

But Thanatos didn’t hesitate. “Yes,” he said. “I do.”

“Oh.” Zagreus felt his ears grow warm as Thanatos approached. He didn’t know what to say and he still wasn’t sure at all where their relationship now stood, such as it was. But when Thanatos reached for him, he accepted, and they walked hand in hand back to the bed.

“Thanks,” Zagreus said one more time. “For killing me.”

“Likewise,” Thanatos replied. “Honestly, I’m...glad I know, now.” He scoffed. “Just don’t ever try it again.”

Zagreus couldn’t help but laugh. “Deal.”

And despite all the trials that still lay ahead, Zagreus slept, Thanatos beside him.