Chapter 2

“He is cursed with Entropy,” Kael murmured, his breath smelling of the deep, restless ocean as his grip tightened on my wrist. “Every living thing he touches with his bare hands rots to dust. Plants wither, stone crumbles, and flesh bleeds out. Do you really think he will embrace you, little priestess? He will destroy you before you even make it to his bed—if he even looks at you.”

I pulled my arm out of his grasp with cold precision, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me flinch. "Then I shall rot happily in the dark, Lord Kael."

Before he could unleash the storm brewing in his eyes, Mercury stepped between us, his winged sandals humming with golden light. With a flick of his wrist, the marble hall of Mount Olympus dissolved into a swirling vortex of wind, and the glaring, arrogant faces of the gods vanished into nothingness.

When the wind settled, the air was no longer sweet with ambrosia and burning incense. It was thick, heavy, and freezing—smelling of damp earth, ancient iron, and the sharp bite of winter frost.

As I pushed the heavy doors open, the grand foyer opened before me. Unlike the blazing gold of Olympus, Malar’s realm was built from shadowed stone, lined with velvet banners of crimson and iron. The air was deathly quiet—save for the slow, heavy echo of footsteps coming down the central staircase.

My heart hammered against my ribs as he emerged from the gloom.

Malar.

He wore high-collared armor of dark leather and iron, his pale skin stark against the shadows. Thick leather gauntlets covered his hands up to his forearms—a constant barrier to keep his lethal curse from touching the world around him.

His jaw was sharp, his dark hair falling in messy strands over a forehead marked by quiet pain. But it was his eyes that caught me—striking, glowing crimson, filled with a mixture of deep exhaustion, suspicion, and a dangerous, simmering power.

It was the same pair of eyes that had scared away the underworld beasts and saved me in my previous life. The pair of eyes I could never forget.

He stopped a few paces away from me, his presence radiating a cold, crushing aura that made the very air tremble.

"You," Malar said, his voice low, deep, and velvet-rough, vibrating in the center of my chest. "The mortal who dared speak my name in the divine court."

I took a deliberate step forward, refusing to back down, even as the temperature around us plummeted. "I am Laena, Lord Malar. I am your wife by Zeus’s decree."

Malar let out a dark, cynical laugh, taking a step toward me until he towered over my smaller frame. He tilted his head, his crimson eyes locking onto mine with lethal intensity.

"Wife?" He sneered, raising one heavily gloved hand and stopping it merely an inch from my throat. I could feel the unnatural, frigid drain of his curse emanating through the thick leather.

"Did Zeus not warn you? Did my father’s realm not terrify you? One tear in this glove, priestess, one touch of my bare skin, and your blood will freeze, your organs will rot, and your soul will be torn to shreds."

He leaned in closer, his dark shadow completely enveloping me.

"Tell me the truth, Laena. What game are you playing? Who sent you here to mock me?"

I looked directly into those terrifying crimson eyes—the same eyes that had shielded my dying soul in another timeline—and smiled softly.

Without a single drop of fear, I reached out and rested my palm flat against the cold iron plate covering his chest, right over his beating heart.

"No one sent me, My Prince," I whispered, my voice echoing clearly through the silent hall. "I came here because I need a weapon to destroy the Sun, and I know the God of Death is the only one strong enough to hold the blade."

Malar’s breath hitched. His eyes widened slightly as he stared down at my hand on his chest, completely stunned by my lack of terror.

For the first time in centuries, the cursed prince of the Underworld was speechless.