Chained.

That was Thanatos’ predicament for the past few days. He had been outsmarted and captured by Sisyphus—originally intended to take the mortal’s life as he was ordered to, only to be swayed by Sisyphus’ incessant praise and flattery.

Internally, Thanatos seethed with anger, and perhaps even bitterness, yet his face remained stoic, betraying none of his emotions. His limbs ached uncomfortably against the cold chains that bound him in the dungeon.

Without his presence, death had ceased to claim its usual victims—people and animals alike defied the natural order, surviving injuries and circumstances that would normally be fatal. He knew he would eventually be rescued, perhaps by a bloodthirsty war god or the next.