The gray landscape stretched endlessly in every direction.
Hannah stood frozen, her eyes locked on the figure before her. Lucien. But not the Lucien she knew. This version of him was different—ancient, powerful, his eyes burning with a crimson fire that made her blood run cold.
"Lucien?" Her voice came out small, trembling. "What... what happened to you? Why do you look like that?"
Hades didn't answer immediately. He just stood there, watching her with an expression she couldn't read.
"Walk with me," he said finally.
He turned and began walking toward a bench that hadn't been there a moment ago. Old. Wrought iron. Nestled beneath a bare tree that seemed to have appeared from nowhere.
Hannah hesitated. Her legs felt weak. But she followed.
They sat down together. The bench was cold beneath her. She couldn't stop staring at him. At his eyes. At the way they seemed to hold centuries of something she couldn't name.
