“We have to get you to the Underworld,” she said, gripping his shoulders, as if by some miracle, she might be able to lift him. “The Golden Fleece—” “I can’t, Persephone,” he said. “What do you mean you can’t?” she said, hysteria rising inside her. “Hades, please.” He took her hand and squeezed. When she looked down, she saw the black threads of the demigod’s soul marring her skin. “A soul for a soul, Persephone.”
okay so.
