Hades growls again.
The young one twitters. “You have what you need,” she says mockingly.
Heat races to Hades’s fingertips, but the power gutters out like a flame starved of oxygen. His power doesn’t work here. He always forgets this. He forgets it until he needs it. “You are the ones weaving this path,” he says. “Can you tell me nothing of value? What of the hearthtender? Does she have a role in this? Why can she control the hounds? Is she—”
“Your time is up, Lord Hades,” says the crone.
“Heed our words,” says the dark-haired Fate.
“You’ve given me nothing to heed!” he barks.
“Your path is ahead of you,” teases the young one. “Now you must follow it.”
Before Hades can snap a retort, he is yanked back through the pool, up, up through the silken water and dropped like a stone again on the cavern’s floor.
He sits up and shakes the primordial wetness from his hair.
“Fates be damned,” he mutters as he redresses. A rumble sounds from the pool. He whirls around. “I know you can hear me!”
He storms to the veil and slams his face directly into the hard surface.
Laughter erupts from the water behind him. With a scowl, he places his hand out before him to test the veil and melts back into the darkness, a curse on the tip of his tongue.
They’re running out of time. The urgency beats at his chest like raven wings.
If the Fates won’t tell him what he needs to know, perhaps they’ll tell someone else.
Ana hates Haven Knightfall…