Vowed to Hades (Romancing the Seas #4)

8. Hades

HADES

H ades stood at the edge of the cliff, his dark cloak billowing in the cool night breeze. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the land of the living. The air here was different, less oppressive than the Underworld, but it brought him no comfort. The gentle rustle of leaves, the distant cry of a night bird—these were sounds he had long since ceased to notice. His mind was elsewhere, tangled in memories that refused to let go.

With a wave of his hand, a portal began to shimmer before him, the air rippling as it tore through the fabric of reality. It led to Atlantis, a place both ancient and powerful, yet it was not the destination that held his attention.

Persephone was silent behind him, her presence a constant weight.

He could feel her eyes on him, filled with suspicion and defiance. It was the way she always looked at him now, as if she were ready to pounce at any sign of weakness.

Hades closed his eyes for a moment, trying to remember a time when her gaze had been different—when it had been soft, loving, filled with a warmth that had once made his cold heart stir.

“If you can make a portal to Atlantis,” she said suddenly, her voice cutting through the silence, “why didn’t you do it back in the Underworld?”

Hades opened his eyes and shrugged, keeping his face impassive.

“I thought you would appreciate the view,” he replied, his tone as casual as he could manage.

He turned to her, watching her carefully. The scowl she so often wore softened, just for a moment, as her eyes drifted to the horizon.

The moonlight danced across the surface of the water below them, scattering like diamonds on a black velvet sea.

She took a hesitant step forward, her gaze locked on the serene beauty of the night. The silver rays bathed her in an ethereal glow, and for a fleeting moment, she looked like the Persephone he had once known.

The memory struck him with the force of a blow. This spot, this deserted island, had been theirs. A place of refuge, a sanctuary from the chaos of their lives.

He could almost see it now—the patch of worn grass where the beach met the forest, the place where they had once lain together, bodies entwined, looking up at the stars.

She had laughed then, a sound that had filled the night air with music.

They had been happy, in a way that Hades now realized was fleeting.

His heart ached with a longing so fierce it threatened to consume him. He wanted her back, the real Persephone, not this hollow shell that Adonis had left behind. He wanted to reach out, to take her by the shoulders, to shake sense back into her. But he knew it would do no good. The memories had been wiped clean, and all that remained were the echoes of what once was.

“Come on,” he urged, his voice gruff as he swallowed the emotions that threatened to spill over. He couldn’t afford to show weakness, not now. Not when she was so close, yet so far from remembering.

Persephone hesitated for a moment longer, her eyes still fixed on the moonlit ocean. Then, with a resigned sigh, she turned to follow him through the portal.

Hades stepped into the swirling vortex of magic; the sensation familiar, yet disorienting, as the world around them shifted.

They emerged in Atlantis, the ancient city hidden beneath the waves.

It was a place of myths, where the ocean floor sparkled with the remnants of a civilization lost to time. The waters around them were calm, but the buildings, usually grand and imposing marble structures, were nothing but ruins. The once beautiful city was a mere shadow of what it once had been.

Hades's jaw tightened as he looked at the damage. Even the air was heavy with the echo of something terrible that had transpired.

Persephone’s shoulders rose, and she folded her arms, glaring at their surroundings. “What happened here? Where have you taken me?”

Hades frowned at the accusatory tone in her voice but did not reply. Instead, he marched forward, fixing his gaze on their destination.

The temple loomed ahead of them; a once grand structure now reduced to a shadow of its former glory. The wide halls, which had once echoed with the steps of Tritons, were eerily silent. Suits of armor lay toppled, their metal limbs twisted and broken, as if they had been cast aside by a violent force. Rubble was strewn across the marble floors, the remnants of what had once been a place of worship and power.

Hades led Persephone through the desolation as he ground his teeth.

The throne room was empty, its grandeur tarnished by the layers of dust and debris that covered everything.

He stooped down and picked up the bloody spear lying next to the throne. When he moved it over in his hands, the scorpion symbol glinted at him .

“Hades… What has happened here? Where are all the guards? Where’s Poseidon?”

Hades stiffened and cocked a brow at her. “So, you remember my brother? Interesting.”

Persephone’s cheeks flushed, but she gave him a steely look. “What did you do?”

Hades threw his hands in the air. “Why am I always the first person you blame for everything? In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been rather preoccupied in the Underworld with all the dead people and such. When would I have time to come here and attack my brother’s kingdom of fish?”

Just then, Persephone made a strange snort-like sound before she turned her head away and kept walking. The sound was followed quickly by a fake cough, and it was as though she was pretending that nothing happened. But that simple reaction lit a fire in Hades's heart.

It was an almost-laugh.

He had done that.

Despite the tension and her disdain for him, he had made Persephone laugh.

As they continued, their footsteps echoed in the vast, empty space. The place felt dead, a husk of what it had once been.

Persephone’s footsteps faltered as she took in the destruction around her, her gaze sweeping over the broken remnants of the temple. She looked up at Hades, her brows knitted together in confusion. But she said nothing, her questions unspoken and her distrust palpable .

Yet, her angry, untrusting looks did nothing to quash Hades's excitement. The thrill of making her laugh made him giddy. Already, he was plotting what he could say next to elicit another delightful sound from her lips.

Without a word, Hades led her to the library. But his heart sank as the heavy door creaked open with a sad squeal.

What was once a sanctuary of knowledge was now a graveyard.

The air was thick with the scent of smoke and ash, the walls blackened by the fire that had ravaged the room. The shelves, which had once held volumes of ancient texts, were charred and broken.

Hades picked up one of the books from the floor, its cover cracked and burned. He opened it, only to watch the pages disintegrate in his hands, turning to ash that slipped through his fingers.

“Thousands of years of history…gone,” he murmured, his spirits dimming.

If there was any text in the world that held the secrets of restoring Persephone’s memories, it was in Poseidon’s library. And now, it was destroyed.

Hades's eyes burned with fury as his mind moved to Loki. The mischievous, selfish man who called himself a god. He had done this.

But why?

Was he working for someone, or was he allied with Adonis, and this was revenge?

The weight of loss settled heavy in his chest, the knowledge that this place—and his hope of finding answers—was now lost to him forever.

He glanced at Persephone, his heart bleeding.

Was she lost to him for good?

Persephone bent down and picked up a book of her own. She turned it over in her hands, her expression troubled. The confusion in her eyes deepened as she looked around the ruined library, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't understand, why have you brought me here?"

Hades nipped at his bottom lip, his usual confidence wavering. He wasn’t sure if she was ready to hear the truth, if she was ready to confront the past that had been taken from her. But he had to try. He had to make her remember, to make her see.

In the days of old, Persephone enjoyed coming to Atlantis and would spend days and nights in the library. She poured over the texts, greedily soaking up ancient knowledge that had been lost to mankind.

Hades sighed, thinking of the irony that the one person in the world who might recall the secrets in this library was also the only person in the world to have their memories wiped.

"You may not remember your life with me,” he said quietly, his voice laced with the pain he could no longer hide, "but please tell me you know who you are."

Persephone looked at him, her brow furrowing. "Is that supposed to mean something to me? "

Before he could respond, the ground beneath them began to tremble.

Hades felt the vibrations through the soles of his boots, a low, ominous rumble that grew stronger with each passing second. His eyes met Persephone’s, and he saw the same concern mirrored in her gaze.

"What was—" Persephone started, but her words were cut off by a deafening bang.

A piece of the ceiling cracked and fell, hurtling toward them.

Without thinking, Hades lunged forward, grabbing Persephone and pulling her to his chest, shielding her from the falling debris.

The impact sent a cloud of dust into the air, but they were safe—at least for the moment.

Persephone gasped for breath, her heart pounding against his chest.

For a brief, intoxicating moment, Hades felt her warmth against him, her scent filling his senses. Every fiber of his being screamed to keep her there, to hold her tight and never let go.

But then she stiffened, frowning as she pushed him away, the connection between them severed as quickly as it had been made.

And then, chaos erupted.

The ground shook violently, as if the very earth beneath them was rebelling. The walls groaned, cracks spidering across the stone. More debris fell, and the air was thick with dust and the acrid smell of burning .

“There’s a battle going on up there,” Persephone pointed upward, her eyes wide with realization.

Before Hades could stop her, she turned and ran out of the library, her footsteps sure and determined.

He cursed under his breath and followed her, but she was fast, moving with a purpose he couldn’t quite understand.

She reached the edge of the temple and, without hesitation, pushed her way through the shimmering membrane that sealed the city off from the ocean outside.

“Persephone, wait!” Hades shouted, panic rising in his throat. “You cannot breathe underwater!”

But it was too late. She was already gone, sucked out of the city and into the vast ocean beyond.

Hades didn’t hesitate. He dived through the membrane, cursing the water as it enveloped him. The cold hit him like a shock, the pressure of the deep squeezing his chest.

He hated getting wet, hated the way the water dragged at him, but none of that mattered now. All that mattered was saving Persephone.

The ocean was a dark, suffocating expanse, the weight of it pressing down on him as he kicked his way toward the surface.

His lungs screamed for air, burning with the effort to hold his breath.

The light from the city below faded as he ascended, the water growing colder and darker with each passing second .

Persephone was limp in his arms, her body heavy and unresponsive.

The sight of her like this—a goddess brought low, her life hanging by a thread—spurred him on. He kicked harder, every muscle in his body straining as he fought his way upward.

The ocean was a merciless enemy, dragging him down, but he would not let it take her. He would not let it take the only thing that mattered to him.

His vision blurred as the pressure in his chest became unbearable. His lungs were on fire, every instinct screaming at him to open his mouth, to breathe in, but he forced himself to hold on.

Just a little longer. Just a few more kicks.

And then, finally, the surface broke above him.

He burst out of the water, gasping for air, the night sky spinning above him.

For a moment, all he could do was breathe, the sweet, blessed air filling his lungs.

But then he remembered Persephone, still unconscious in his arms.

He pulled her close, sealing his mouth over hers and blowing air into her lungs. “Come on, Persephone,” he muttered between breaths, his voice ragged with desperation. “Breathe.”

For a moment, nothing happened.

But then she coughed, water sputtering from her lips as she gasped for air. Hades held her tight, relief flooding through him as she began to breathe again, her chest rising and falling with the rhythm of life.

She was safe, for now. But as Hades held her in his arms, the weight of what had just happened settled over him.

Persephone had been reckless, charging into danger without a second thought. But it was more than that. The way she had pushed him away, the way she had run from him—it was a reminder that she was still lost to him, still trapped by a past she could not remember.

“Oh stars, I don’t believe it,” Persephone whispered, clutching her face in horror.

Hades frowned, his gaze following hers.

A screech pierced the air, a bone-chilling sound that sent a shiver down his spine.

The dark outline of a ship loomed on the horizon, its billowing sails like shadows reaching out to them. As the ship drew closer, the details became clearer—dark wood, scarred and weathered, with sails as black as night.

But it wasn’t the ship’s ominous appearance that troubled Hades most; it was the flag fluttering high above, emblazoned with a scorpion.

Hades's stomach dropped.

That flag could only mean one thing. “We need to leave. Now,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “That flag… it’s not a good sign.”

But Persephone wasn’t listening. Her eyes were wide, her head tilted as if she were straining to hear something.

“Georgette… Serena… I can hear them.” Her voice trembled with a mix of fear and determination .

Hades shook his head. “That’s impossible you can hear anyone on that ship. It’s at least a league away. There’s no way?—”

“They’ve been captured. We have to help them.” Persephone’s voice hardened.

Hades felt a pang of frustration. “Persephone, listen to me. This is a terrible idea. We don’t even know if it’s really them, and that ship… it’s dangerous. We need to think this through.”

Persephone turned to him, her eyes flashing with a fury that took him by surprise. “Think it through? Very well. Here’s something to think through… You will have to kill me to stop me from going after them,” she growled, her voice low and lethal. “So, you have a choice, Hades. Are you with me, or are you going to stand here and watch as I swim out there alone?”

Hades stared at her, his mind racing.

He had no love for Georgette or Serena—they were nothing to him. But the fire in Persephone’s eyes, the unwavering resolve, left him with little choice. She wasn’t going to back down, and he knew that if he let her go alone, it could mean her death.

With a resigned sigh, Hades muttered, “You’re impossible, you know that?”

But Persephone had already turned and was swimming toward the ship, cutting through the water with determined strokes.

“Stars above, let Loki not be aboard that cursed ship,” Hades grumbled under his breath. “Wait! ”

Persephone stopped and turned in the water to look at him.

Without a word, he waved his hands with gusto and conjured a black dinghy, with a modest black sail. The vessel shimmered with magic and seemed to disappear into its surroundings.

Persephone made for the boat as Hades climbed in.

When he reached down to help her up, she mumbled something incoherent and grabbed the boat inside.

Hades offered her a blanket. “As touching as it is to see your enthusiasm, my dear, I think it would be wiser to find out where they are going, don’t you?”

Persephone scowled at him as she wrapped herself up in the blanket. “Follow them? Why would that be a good idea? They could kill them!”

Hades tsked at her, which only prompted Persephone’s frown to deepen.

“Whoever has them on that boat is not going to kill them. Clearly, they are sailing somewhere…to the person they are working for.”

Persephone’s mouth dropped as the thought settled on her, and she looked wistfully out at the horizon. “So… we follow them? In this? They could be on the sea for weeks.”

Hades inclined his head. “Do not worry, love. I am quite excellent at fishing, and I can conjure as much wine as you wish.”

Persephone’s brows arched as she gave him an unimpressed look .

Then she shivered, looking at the shrinking boat ahead. “We’re losing the ship.”

Hades held up his palm toward the sail above his head, and a jet of air burst from it, propelling their boat forward at an accelerated rate.

“Now we’re not.”

He beamed, but his smile faltered at Persephone’s lack of excitement.

He sighed.

This is going to be a very long journey.