Kore examined the general. His black hair had faded to an unsettling ashen color and sweat poured down his long, spirit-gray face though morning had just come, and the sun had yet to warm the earth. 

Like many of her soldiers, Ziren had used a little of the special salve. They’d wanted the worst off to get as much as possible, and thanks to their efforts, those like Mulstra stood a solid chance of surviving. 

Ziren shook his head. “But, my Queen, someone must keep watch.” 

Kore took her trusted staff (an unassuming weapon crafted from an ancient pomegranate tree and decorated with fingernail-sized, magnetite skulls) from its place across her back. She twirled it over her fingers in a controlled, absentminded way. 

“I’m more than capable.” 

“Of course, my Queen, but save your strength. You can’t have—Your rest is more important.”

Kore had taken none of the salve despite dozens of urgings. She could only guess how terrible she looked, and Kore felt as bad as the second time she’d been close to death. Yet she could function and would until they reached the safety of the Underworld. 

She’d explained her refusal multiple times, to no prevail, and refused to do so again. “That’s an order.”

Ziren bowed again. “Yes, my Queen.” 

He started for camp. 

“No one is to approach until the next watch,” Kore added. 

It took Ziren a moment to answer, and when he did, displeasure laced his words. “As you wish, my Queen.” 

Kore watched him leave before she took over his post, concealed by several tall, thick bushes on the hill that overlooked the valley her camp had settled in. She could see for several fathoms and was all too aware of how close they were to Mount Olympus. No one had attacked as she’d feared, but Zeus may do so with the new day, especially if he knew of her people’s illness. 

Furious as she was, Kore would if their positions were reversed. 

Reminders of the previous day’s events made her grip tighten on her staff. Though irrational and against character, she wished she’d killed Zeus. 

She’d been ridiculous to think the god would ever consider reason; would abandon his bloated ego long enough to accomplish his goal. She regretted ever thinking he was better than his father. 

Kore leaned against her staff as she thought of the future. 

What would she do? 

The gods would lose the war and Cronus would unleash his wrath onto the Upperworld. The deaths he’d cause would flush the Underworld with too many spirits, too many distractions, at once. Then Cronus would invade her. 

Kore stood a fair chance at victory in that battle but not the war he’d launch.

How could she prepare for this outcome? 

Kore could pull more forces from Tartarus, though she’d prefer not to. She was the sovereign of all daemons but had little influence over the other creatures that populated the Underworld. A few of the clans might help her without hassle if it meant they got to harm upper-dwellers. 

Whichever way Kore got an army large enough to combat the Titan King, she had to ensure Cronus didn’t rule the Upperworld and Underworld. He wielded his current power horribly, and Kore shuddered to imagine what he’d be like if he became that influential. 

The hairs on the back of Kore’s neck stood up as a metallic scent hit her nostrils. A light breeze had been blowing, and she noticed that though the breeze had vanished, the leaves on the bushes were caught mid-wave. 

In an instant, Kore forgot her worries and her bodily discomfort. She stepped away from the bushes; her staff held at the ready. 

“Show yourself,” she demanded. 

“With pleasure,” a smooth, commanding voice said from Kore’s right, and an impressive, bronzed figure appeared. With a flourish, Cronus bent at the waist. “Nice to see you again. It’s been too long since your beauty graced me.”

Every instinct told Kore to run from the Titan King. Malice radiated off him despite his well-formed features hinting at amusement. When the sun’s rays glanced off his eyes, they flashed with predatory intensity. He carried no weapon, yet Kore knew from experience he didn’t need one to inflict a massive amount of damage.  

Despite his dangerous air, Kore held her ground. Even when he’d almost ended her life, she hadn’t let Cronus see her flinch. 

Not for the first time, though, she wished she’d convinced him she was weak, unworthy of his attention. Maybe he wouldn’t find humor in bothering her. Perhaps the act would have fooled Cronus and given her the element of surprise she could have used to destroy him all those years ago.  

No emotion crossed Kore’s face as she asked, “What do you want?” 

A smile stretched Cronus’ full lips. “A fine hello to you, too.” 

Kore stared. 

Cronus chortled. “I heard you paid another visit to my son.”   

      

“What of it?”

“Not much of a host, is he?” 

No reply. 

Cronus stepped closer. 

Kore longed to strike him but knew he’d let her, and that was worse than if he tried to stop her. In her current state, she couldn’t cause him much harm, yet he’d retaliate like she’d wounded him. 

He wouldn’t draw her blood, though. Cronus would unleash his fury on the unsuspecting camp.

Kore could stop him before he killed everyone, but she wouldn’t forgive herself if her rashness got even one of her people hurt. 

The Titan King took hold of Kore’s chin with two fingers and squeezed until she relented and allowed him to angle her head toward the sun. He clucked under his breath after he studied her. “You’ve looked better.” 

Kore rolled her eyes. “Get to your point.” 

“Why do you put yourself through such torment? What do you gain?” 

“Some of us who lead understand the meaning of sacrifice.” 

Cronus flashed another wide grin. “Then make a grand one. End this pathetic charade and marry me.” 

Once, eight decades prior, Cronus had made the same offer, and Kore had considered it. No one had known of Cronus’ true twisted nature, and he’d seemed well-meaning. Then, Kore had been struggling to mold the Underworld into what it would become. Cronus had promised a union that would transform their two worlds beyond either of their imaginations. 

The offer had seemed more than Kore could ever dream of. 

Kore’s brother, Yovar, had been trying to take the throne from her and had halted her decision. Cronus had lost his patience and revealed his true nature. She’d turned him down, and he’d tried to force her compliance. 

The ensuing battle had devastated both sides, but Kore’s might hadn’t faltered, and she’d won. That hadn’t stopped Cronus from pursuing her, including when he’d had a wife.

“My answer will never change.”

As selfish as it seemed, Kore spoke from the desire to protect her people. If she accepted his proposal, gave up her throne, and strived to be the best wife she could, it wouldn’t be enough. 

Her people would be enslaved, and she’d wind up like Rhea. She’d be worse off, though, because she wouldn’t allow Cronus to get away with as much as the Titaness had and he’d torture her to death instead of murdering her in one blow. 

Cronus frowned. “How unfortunate.” 

Kore waited for retaliation, whether against her or her people. 

It didn’t come. Instead, Cronus released Kore with a shove. Kore stumbled back but didn’t fall. 

In the time it took Kore to regain her balance, Cronus disappeared; took his scent and time manipulation with him. With his absence, the wind blew again, and relief flooded Kore. It stabbed her and brought a sweet pain that activated her brain. 

From her peripheral vision, Kore spotted Ziren coming toward her. Her anger spiked. He didn’t approach because of Cronus’ visit. The Titan King had masked his venture with his Purpose and had only made Kore aware of his presence. 

No, Ziren had disobeyed her. The last thing Kore wanted to do was punish him, and less so now that he was sick, but his insolence wouldn’t go unaddressed. 

“Ziren, I—” 

Ziren dipped into a quick bow. “Sorry for my disobedience, my Queen, but this is urgent.”

At first, Kore thought Cronus might have acted against the camp and her general had come to report, but he didn’t look rattled. Also, Ziren wouldn’t have left unless all life had been lost, and Cronus hadn’t been gone long enough to cause that much destruction.

If not danger, why would Ziren risk her ire? 

“What?” she asked. 

“A god just arrived. He’s being held in your tent.” 

The news jolted Kore. “Is it—Who? Why?” 

“The one called Hades. He says he must speak with you right away.” 

“Did he mention what about?” 

“A way to win the war.” 

While she’d resolved to ignore the gods’ plight and let them deal with their stupidity’s fallout, she couldn’t help being intrigued. What had the gods found? Why did Kore need to know?

“Will you see him, my Queen?” 

“Yes.” 

Ziren nodded and resumed his post. 

On fast feet, Kore fled down the hill. 

Those few souls able to function bowed and wished Kore well as she passed. She responded to as many of them as possible as she raced to her tent in the center of the camp. 

Two soldiers held back the opening flaps, and she entered. 

Inside, the strapping, light-colored god she’d almost collided with outside Zeus’ throne room the day before stood, flanked by several tired-looking soldiers. 

Kakos paced near the back of the tent; his sword drawn. He muttered to himself and every so often brandished his weapon at Hades. 

Mostly, the god seemed amused by the ice daemon’s display.

“My Queen,” the soldiers said when they noticed her. They didn’t bow but stepped closer to Hades.

“Leave us,” Kore demanded. 

Kakos glared. “You can’t be left alone with him.” 

Kore pounded her staff against the ground and let loose a thin cloud of mist. 

Without further prompting, the soldiers evacuated the tent.

Kakos flared a blue-white color and gusts of frigid air billowed out of his ears. 

Kore retracted her mist and frowned. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t blow down my tent.” 

“You’re too brash.” Kakos pointed his sword at the base of Hades’ neck. The god didn’t flinch. “He can be here for no other reason than trickery.”

“Possibly.” Kore stood before Hades. “Swear on the River Styx that you speak the truth.” 

Hades cocked an eyebrow. “The what?” 

Kakos snorted. “The only way to hold you accountable, though I’m sure you’ll try to deceive us. You gods have no sense of honor.” 

Kore could have strangled her advisor. While the god’s visit didn’t please her, she didn’t like the advisor acting so absurd. His composure resembled a youngling’s. She hoped his sickness made him so obnoxious, but she feared this attitude was permanent. If so, she’d need to appoint a new advisor.

The insult glanced off Hades. 

He shrugged, and the brief whisper of a smile crossed his lean, sculpted face. “I swear on the River Styx that what I reveal will be the truth as I know it.”