Pandora was limp in his arms, and blood seeped from unsealed wounds. He stumbled out of the nightmare. Hypnos caught him as his knees buckled and guided him to the ground. His friend’s lips were moving, but the world spun. All that registered was sharp feedback.    

“Hades,” Hypnos’ voice cut through the noise, and he moved to look at him. A red and blue gaze studied him, and worry caused the colors to bleed together. “Give her to me. You must return to your body.”   

His soul became incorporeal as soon as Pandora left his embrace. A piece of him was missing, and he tried to pull her back. He passed through her as his ties to the living world severed. An uncomfortable tugging sensation filled him, and the gateway to the Underworld yanked him closer.    

“Don’t fight it,” Hypnos warned. “I’ve got her. Nothing will happen to her.”  

He obeyed, and the shimmering mass sucked him through to where his body waited. His soul slammed into himself with such force that it expelled the oxygen from his lungs. He gasped awake and clutched his sternum.     

“Pandora!” The scream ripped from him. It burned with the taste of copper and bile.   

Persephone popped into view when he sat up. She’d been asleep on the carpet. Her sunset-colored eyes widened, and relief softened her face.   

“You’re alive. Thank the gods above.” She placed her hand over her heart and breathed out heavily.    

The transition from his dreamscape to Slumber to the waking realm was substantial. He tried to stand, but his strength failed him. Two weeks of hell had weakened him. He hit the ground with a sickening thud, and Persephone moved to assist him. He shook her off, determined to drag himself to his woman. The only thing that mattered was Pandora.    

Persephone followed behind him but didn’t touch him again. She kept quiet, and he showed no interest. When he touched the portal, it transported him to Slumber. A bit of strength returned, and he crawled to his feet.    

“Where is she?” he demanded, but the space was empty.   

A blood trail led to the Upperworld gateway. Pandora’s essence filled the air. Hypnos took her to the only place that would question his presence. Hades wouldn’t follow; it would endanger her. The Fates watched the humans and would notice his arrival.    

“That bastard,” he growled. Blue sparks licked along his skin and into his hair as his composure slipped. “How dare he?”    

“He’s keeping you from Athena, not Pandora.” He had forgotten that Persephone was behind him. His flames flickered as anger melted into worry.    

“What do you mean?” He wheeled toward her, and his fire burned brighter for a split second.   

“Do I need to explain it, step-by-step?” she asked calmly. “I spoke with Athena, and she knows something is happening between you.” She paused. The embers had cooled, replaced by wispy fog. “This is the only way the wrath of war doesn’t come for your head.”  

“Continue.” His skin hummed as his breathing harshened.  

“You accepted Pandora’s help, and she got hurt. You aren’t friendly with the Olympic gods, everyone knows that, so you had Hypnos take her to a healer in the Upperworld.” She tapped her temple and pinned him with a stern look. “After that, you resumed work like the busy-bee you are. Get it?”  

He would applaud her boldness if he wasn’t on the verge of losing control. Nodding curtly, he leveled her with a look of annoyance. “I hope whoever he brought her to is good.”  

Done with her, he stalked out of Hypnos’ room into the Underworld. The heaviness between realms had returned as a dull ache, but he was able to remain upright. It would take a day’s rest to fully recharge thanks to his godly lineage. He shook off the remnants of fatigue and re-materialized in his office.  

Once behind closed doors, his renewed powers, though still weakened, poured through his veins, and lit him up from the inside. Books tore free from their shelves and struck the floor hard enough to split their spines. Their forgotten knowledge whirled through the air like frightened birds before fire consumed them midair, ashes raining down in soft gray flakes. Knick-knacks shattered at his feet. Then came the crash of breaking glass, sharp and sudden, spraying glittering fragments across the room.  

He couldn’t recall the last time he lost control but if anything happened to her, the Fates would meet his wraith.   

“Hades,” he paused at Nyx’s tone and shifted toward her, his outburst simmering. A gentle palm pressed against his pectoral, and his heartbeat hammered beneath the pressure. “She’ll be okay. Hypnos will keep her safe.”    

“She’s going to detest me when she awakens.” His voice quivered as he covered Nyx’s hand with his own.    

“What did you do?”   

Besides removing her bodily autonomy without consent? He shook his head. He could not explain this to her, not in his current state. “Can we talk later, Nyx? I must check on Tartarus.”    

“Pandora could never hate you, darling.” She dropped her fingers and shifted her attention to the window that overlooked the hellscape. “Do you sense that?”    

“What?”    

“Hell stirs below. Typhon wants to speak with you. He mentioned it was important.”   

If the prison guard of Tartarus was looking for Hades, something horrible had happened. A grave-cold sensation coiled through him like the talons of the caged titans below. Typhon’s domain stretched deeper than the visible depths, and nothing good ever came from there.      

***    

Meanwhile, in the Upperworld, Hypnos wasted no time. He cradled Pandora to his chest and stepped through the portal into the main office of Corina’s Antique Emporium. An old woman was sitting at the register, attention buried in an ancient tome. She looked through the open doorway and sighed. Her wrinkled face contorted in permanent annoyance, but the scowl deepened.   

“When I said you could use my shop as your base, I did not expect you to bring me injured women.” The hag huffed as she stood. Her joints cracked as she hobbled over. “Carry her upstairs while I lock up.”   

He complied and slipped up the rickety stairs. Corina mumbled to herself as the deadbolt was engaged. A flash of light followed her power as she sealed the door. A threadbare couch sat against the farther wall with a homemade quilt slung over the back. He placed Pandora on the cushions and watched her breathe. If she died…    

“How bad are her injuries?” Corina asked as she appeared at the top of the steps.   

“I haven’t looked. She has just emerged from the dreamscape after several days.” He brushed aside bloodstained blonde locks and grimaced. Her visage was a palette of colors. Most of her body was. The wound along her sternum was deep but sealed. Questioning how never helped. “Will you heal her, or do I need to call Hermes?”    

Corina spat on the floor and hissed. “Don’t you dare threaten me with those forsaken creatures. If you bring any of them here, I shall kill you, immortal or not.” 

He held his arms up in surrender and stepped away. “Unfortunately, this is Athena’s Champion. You might end up with at least one of them.”    

She spewed obscenities in Navajo, and her limbs flew about in angry gestures. “If you didn’t pay me so well, I’d kick you out. Move before I change my mind.”   

Her hands became a flurry of movement and radiance. The color deepened over the heavier damage but turned black when she hovered over the gash. Her lips pulled into a deep frown.    

“I can mend the physical wounds, but this one…” She trailed off and pushed more power into the area. “This goes deeper than even Hermes could touch. Who did this to her?”    

“Her soulmate.” It was the truth, despite how horrible it was.    

“With lovers like that, who needs enemies?” She muttered to herself. Her nails shifted to razor-sharp talons, and she slit Pandora’s shirt open. Hypnos spun away. “I need you to grab some herbs from the shop. Calendula, turmeric, raw honey, and yarrow. Some aloe vera, too.”    

When he reemerged from downstairs, the scene upstairs had changed. Corina had hunched over Pandora, now concealed by a thin cloth. Sparks danced about her fingers as the cuts sealed. She whispered what he assumed were spells as she worked. Maybe words of affirmation. She stopped when he handed her the items.    

“There are heavy curses upon this child, Hypnos. Threads of black magic cling to her, and it would take a lot to sever them.” Corina plucked a strand, invisible at first before blazing red.    

“She killed a god.”    

She cackled and threw her head back in glee. “I respect her already! There’s more than that, though.”   

Minutes turned to hours as Corina worked. Bruises faded, and cuts mended. Color returned to Pandora’s cheeks. Pink and lively. Hypnos breathed a sigh of relief when she sucked in a breath and startled awake. She guided her down and shushed her as she sputtered.    

“Rest, dear. You are safe,” green tendrils fluttered from her fingertips.   

Storm-gray eyes drifted closed, and Pandora fell asleep again. Her breathing had steadied. The jagged cut on her chest was the only physical thing that wouldn’t heal, and it would serve as a stark reminder when she awoke.  

“I cannot break either curse, but I have shielded her. Let’s hope it is enough to protect from the consequences.” More magic poured from her, coating Pandora in a sheen of emerald.    

“I owe you, Corina.”    

“Bind it.” She handed him a thorn-covered wand, and he sliced his palm. Thick ichor dripped down his forearm as honey and lavender permeated the air. She waited with unbridled excitement as each drop splattered into a goblet she’d picked up.   

“For her assistance, I, Hypnos, owe Corina a debt of her choosing. So long as I have the means to fulfill it, I shall accept it.”    

The liquid in the cup sizzled as the binding took effect. She swallowed the contents in a single gulp and grinned. Her skin tightened, and wrinkles softened. Deteriorated irises blazed with youth. Silver-streaked hair shifted to a rich ebony. In the blink of an eye, Corina had aged backward. She was born from the earth and forged by ancient spirits.  

“No need to wait for my dues, Hypnos,” she tutted. A wicked smile darkened her countenance. “For the next two hundred years, you’ll feed me your life force each month. Fulfill this before midnight, when the full moon’s eve arrives, or your godhood transfers to me.”  

“This is cruel, Corina.” Agony speared through him as the debt settled into his bones. Beneath the pain was an overwhelming betrayal.    

“You knew what I was when you arrived. It is not wicked to use this to my advantage.” She bopped his nose as though he were a child and sauntered to the stairs. “You’re free to leave when she wakes,” she called once she was at the bottom.  

Editor: Lucy Cafiero