We ran past the group, still talking in the center of the room. None of them gave us a second glance, but when I looked back, I swore I saw Anna smile.

And then we were just flying through the hallways. Each wall blurred into one another, and there was no difference between a painting and the wallpaper. It was all just colors – just black and blue and some purple, and the occasional pinpoint of warm light that was swallowed up almost as quickly as I saw it. Alexander seemed to know where he was going, and we were weaving around and through turns, and we’d go straight for what seemed like miles at a time.

I kept on waiting for my legs to get tired, to complain because they were doing more running that I’d probably ever done in the last two or three years. But it never came. The feeling like I’d gotten a rope burn inside my calves never came.

I wasn’t fueled by adrenaline, I wasn’t invincible – but I was running like I was. I didn’t have time to puzzle it out because we swerved around and make a sharp right. Any thoughts I could’ve had were thrown out almost as violently as the way we came to a stop suddenly, in front of the Glass Garden.

A few evening primroses snaked up the glass and in the dimness of the palace, they seemed to radiate a soft yellow glow, like stars. The stars of the Underworld, I thought wonderingly.

“It’s…really pretty,” Alexander said grudgingly. “For some palace thousands of feet under the surface, it’s really pretty.”

I didn’t say anything, and pulled him with me as I walked into the garden. Everything was much the same as it had been the last time I’d seen it, which, if I honestly thought about it, made sense, since it had only happened yesterday. My fingers brushed against the petal of a narcissus, and without thinking, I caressed its bulb and gently yanked at it. It came off with a barely audible swip and absentmindedly started to braid it into my hair.

Alexander placed his arm around my back and started to maneuver us through the garden, past tall hedges and clusters of passionflowers and trees, hung to the brim with Spanish moss. The last time I came here, they had escaped my notice, since I was too intent on trying to find the source of the music.

It had been beautiful – its haunting yet enchanting melody still lingered and curled around in my head, like tiny wisps of thoughts that were hugging me. It was sound that only Morgan could make – because I knew how talented he had been, and still was. He made art, not just noise.

My eyes drifted to the small courtyard that was outside the garden, barely visible through the trees and vines blocking the way. But in my mind, I still saw the way he stood, with the cello that was black as night and glossy as frozen ice. I saw the two of us, playing Persephone’s Song, fingers flying, bows slicing through the air.

And then I saw the Orchestra room, back at school. The chairs, the lazy afternoon sunlight filtering in, the piano that was always a little out of tune, everybody talking and goofing around, someone playing an F natural when they should’ve been playing a sharp. But in the corner, I saw a girl, with long straight hair, blonde with streaks of brown. Sitting on the ground with her legs propped up on a chair, her mouth moving to the sheet of music in front of her. Beside her, a boy, with mostly tame, curly brown hair, bowing away on a cello, eyes focused on the stand in front of him. But occasionally, he would turn, and a look would slip into his eyes. I couldn’t read it, but it was special, I knew. They were only for the girl sitting next to him.

And with a gasp, I realized that that was Morgan. And that was me. Just as we usually were. Just as we had been. And I would miss that, so, so terribly. I would miss talking to him and seeing him fiddle around with his cello or his tablet and the look he got on his face when he was amused or excited.

I turned around and took off, barreling right past the door to the room, barely avoiding the sharp turn, and just kept on running. I heard Alexander behind me, yelling, confused, bewildered, panicked. “Sophie, where are you going? We’ve got to go, now!”

His footsteps, sometimes louder, sometimes fainter, but always there, right behind me.

“Sorry, Alexander, but I’ve got to do something before I leave,” I tried to say, but my words were snatched away by the air whistling past me as I ran.

I knew I couldn’t have it both ways – if I ran with Alexander, just ran away, most likely back to the surface, I knew I would be leaving Morgan. But I also had no intention of staying here, in the Underworld. I already longed for my life back home, after only a few days. This life was not the one for me.

And I had already made up my mind to run. And even before that, I had said I was going to go home. And I was going to do that. But I couldn’t just leave without saying something to Morgan. I didn’t know when I would be seeing him next, and it could be tomorrow or it could be in a week, but I still didn’t want to leave, just like that. Because without realizing it, Morgan had become someone special to me over the course of the year. I was pretty sure I didn’t feel for him the same way I felt for Alexander, but he still meant something to me.

Which meant I had to settle this before anything else could happen.

I rounded another corner, and came to a stop, panting lightly. I was in front of the Throne Room now, and I didn’t know how I knew, but Morgan was inside there. I cocked my head, listening for a bit to see if Alexander was still behind me. I could still hear his footsteps, though fainter. And they seemed to be coming closer. I didn’t have much time then.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped into the room. My footsteps seemed to bounce off the walls and the ceiling, announcing my presence before I could even say anything. A lone figure stood in the center of the room, just staring calmly at the thrones, as if challenging them.

“The gods are going to war with me,” he said, without looking away.

“I heard. What are you going to do?” I walked steadily toward him, the echoes of my footsteps measuring the time that passed between us without a single word.

He shrugged. “I don’t know.” He swung around to face me, his eyes keen but slightly sad. “There’s nothing left to do.”

“I don’t know what you mean…”

He sighed. “None of you do.”

“But you do?” I tried to keep my voice even, even though I confused and feeling a little angry with him for acting like he knew what was going on.

“Yes. Do you want to know?” His words were slow and measured, and his expression told me that it was an honest question.

 “Yea. I do.” I was now standing less than a foot from him. His gaze never wavered.

“No one’s going to come out of this the same,” he whispered, sounding a little hoarse.

“What do you mean? Cut the dramatics, Morgan.”

“I really mean it when I say it.” A mischievous light suddenly appeared in his eyes, as if he were amused. “But…the gods and goddesses…they haven’t been honest with you. Any of you. And don’t say anything,” he added when he saw my mouth opening to speak, “just let me finish.”

He took a deep breath and exhaled. “The gods – they’ve been residing in your – in our bodies. And they can also dominate it, if they want. Take it over, make you say things and do things you never would’ve done. But that’s not the worst thing. They can destroy you. And by that, I don’t mean your body. I mean…the soul or the spirit that is you that resides in your body. The body is really just a shell.”

“So…what are you saying? And…how do you know this?” My eyebrows arched in confusion and curiosity.

“To start this war, the gods need actual, physical bodies. And they won’t be just satisfied with sharing it, because it’s less efficient to have a clumsy mortal soul in the same body. And,” he added, “Hades may have his flaws – but he’s honest. Brutally honest,” he finished with a bitter laugh.

I shivered at some of his words, hating how it sounded like he had merged with Hades to some extent. Like, Morgan was there. But Hades had also dramatically influenced him.

Morgan continued without noticing, “So, what they’re going to do is destroy the other soul that inhabits the body, and take it over.”

“But why? Wha-? I don’t…” I trailed off, shocked. I never thought of the gods or goddesses as cruel, possibly except for Hades. Sure, they could be vain and selfish and immortal, but I never thought they would commit murder (of a sort, anyway). I didn’t think they would actually hurt us, the souls who they were sharing a body with.

“Persephone…did you know this?” I said shakily, not even caring that Morgan was right there.

She was silent for a long while, and apprehension roiled inside my stomach, like a giant roiling ball of pencil scribbles. Just jumpy and random and everywhere. It gnawed at me, and I thought I would just shake and burst from waiting, but at the same time, I didn’t want to hear her answer. I was scared of what she was going to say, I was scared at what I might find out about someone I had trusted with my body, my life, my mind, my thoughts, my secrets – everything. She was the only person who knew me better than I did, because she was inside of me.

I… she hesitated. I…I’m sorry.

I didn’t wait to hear anymore. I wanted to both slam the door in my mind, hopefully in her metaphysical face, but at the same time I wanted answers. I wanted to scream, to demand, why she would hide this from me. Why she would hide this from my friends? Were we just puppets to her? To them?

“Why?” I asked, half hysterical. I knew I was overreacting, but at the same time, in the plight we were in, I felt like it was justified. Our lives were at stake, literally at stake, it wasn’t just something that was part of a movie or a book anymore. It wasn’t just a fun supernatural experience, it was actual life-and-death. Of all the things I had thought I would have face during this whole thing, during the trial, while being trapped in my room, even being brought to the Underworld – death wasn’t one of them. I thought I would have years for that to happen, even if I failed the trial and had to stay for six months a year below the surface. I never thought that nonexistence had always been a possibility, all along.

I could barely see Morgan through the tears that were forming in my eyes. I didn’t know whether they were from anger or form the realization that death was possible so soon. I didn’t usually cry so easily, and I also hated myself for that too. He held up his arms, as if for a hug, but instead, he clasped me by my wrists. “Sophie, calm down. Just calm down.”

“I don’t want to die!” I wailed.

“Now, who needs to cut the dramatics?” he said with a small smile.

“But…we’re…going…to…die?” The confident look on his face made me question my reaction. His eyes still held that sad look, like he knew that something devastating happening was inevitable, but he seemed to be trying to tell me that it really was going to be okay.

I blinked the tears away, and focused solely on getting answers from Persephone. Maybe, if I could find out more, I could do something about it. About this whole war thing.

“Persephone, why are they doing this?”

Morgan explained the entirety of it. They need bodies. You are their bodies.

“You knew this, but you didn’t tell me? Why?”

It would be harder for you…to leave, if you knew. So I thought it was better if you didn’t. Because you would be okay, I would never do that to you.

“You can’t guarantee that, and I don’t know if you’re being honest to me.”

I swear on the River Styx! That’s the most serious oath anyone, god or mortal, can make. There are dire consequences if you break a promise make on the Styx!

“Then say it. Say ‘I swear on the River Styx that I will never harm Sophie.’ Say it!”

I…I swear on the River Styx that I will never harm Sophie.

I heard a loud crack in the air, as if it was magnetically charged. There. I’ve made the promise. But please forgive me. I didn’t mean to hurt you or betray you.

I ignored her apology and got straight to the point. “Are the others still planning to take over my friends’ bodies?”

Persephone was silent for a moment, like she needed a moment to gather herself, but answered with cold precision. Yes, they are. And there’s no way to stop them, unless you change their minds or expel them from the body. And there’s no way you can do that. That’s not an opinion, it’s a fact.

“So, what can I do?”

Change their minds.

“How?”

She was silent again, and finally, almost reluctantly, said, Ask Morgan.

I turned toward him, wondering what she meant. “How do I change their minds, Morgan?” I almost didn’t want him to answer, because I knew the answer would be complicated and hard. Not hard to carry out, but rather, hard to face, hard to come to terms with.

“If I surrender…” he began slowly, “they won’t go to war. And your friends won’t know that anything was about to happen, except that they suddenly decided called off the war.”

“What’s the cost, Morgan? At what price?” My voice was barely above a whisper.

“…I don’t get to go anywhere for a while. I’m stuck, here in the Underworld, not allowed to go out in the surface world and cause ‘disturbances’.”

“For how long?”

“A few months, a few years. Knowing Demeter, probably years and years. She wants to trap me down here, like I trapped Persephone,” he said, sounding bitter and resigned.

My heart sunk more than just a little as I heard the sentence. But not only because of the sacrifice Morgan would have to make, but also because, while listening to that sentence, I realized how far apart Morgan and I had grown. I asked my last question, a little heartbroken. “Right now, are you Morgan, or are you Hades?”

He looked at me, expression calm, eyes piercing. “Right now, are you Sophie, or are you Persephone?”

As he walked away, disappearing into the hallway that lead to the Music Room, I answered his – my – both our questions.

“Both. It’s both.”

And when Alexander found me, a while later, I was still whispering the words into the air, where they just drifted away with a lazy sort of power.

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Just two more chapters left to go, whew! Hope you guys are all enjoying this!