The King Of Death | Hades + Fae

Prologue

Death is coming.

The Fates whispered their words through the wind, a wind foreign and cold in the air atop Mount Olympus.

The Fates whispered for the first time in thousands of years, and the God's shuddered.

Death is coming.

But the Fates were too late. It was Atropos who whispered, the sister of the inevitable. None had heard her voice before, but all knew what it meant.

The ground cracked, the Gods trembled.

Orfeas, son of Zeus, rose from the confines of his mountainous cage. Trapped for a thousand years, the meager God knew his power was no match for the men and women who stood before him. So he took their power, the parts of it he could contain.

The Gods fled.

But one got away, power fully intact.

Hades was not on Olympus, he rarely ever was. When Orfeas descended upon the underworld, the God of Death was gone.

In a roar that rivalled the monsters in the House Of Hades, Orfeas reached his power as far as it would stretch. He could feel him, feel the master of death, but only a glimmer.

Hades was on earth, but not among the humans.

Fae were foreign, barely a concept to the ancient Gods, but even they had to admit that Fae power almost rivalled their own.

Which meant Orfeas could not follow, not yet, not until he had everything else set in motion.

Death is coming.

The Fates whispers did not stop on Olympus. They snaked through the earth and across continents until they slid into the ear of the Fae queen. So quiet, so distant that it barely carried on the breeze.

Death had already come for the Fae, at the hands of humans they once protected. Two slain kings within one moon cycle, and a Queen that was never meant to ascend to the throne. Tallulah.

The breeze reached her with kindness, not warning. It wrapped around her in comfort, blanketed her worries.

Death is coming. But this death was not the same.

This death had a name.