Excerpt
"Arkadeia’s beleaguering winters, with ice storms and blizzards to blanket the region until Persephone surfaced from her Hadean sovereignty, were temperate compared to the bitterness carried through the obscurity through which I traveled. My faith in both the Earth Mother and her sister kept me from faltering, keeping me from succumbing to the rawness. From the heart of Tartaros, where I headed, blew this breath of anguish, this killer of hope. Panic grew from within my gut, spreading like a cancer, moving through my chest and arms as I neared this sepulchral place, this place I could never see but had to pass through with only my devotion to be my beacon. A few steps later, without Gaea or Olympeia telling me, I knew I was there, and the talons of terror snatched me, tearing apart my resolve, one piece at a time. I had arrived where none save Zeus himself had ever seen, and even the god of gods had felt the same emotions I felt; no one was immune from such soul-shredding agony.

Here was where Kronos was buried."