Series: Willow Winters
Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 74198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
There is likely much about me that he cannot explain. Does he think I spent my time in the Underworld isolated and caged?
“I have questions,” I tell him firmly.
“I will answer all in time, but—”
“Where is my mother?” I question, not allowing him to finish. A hush falls around us, and my father doesn’t answer me.
“Persephone,” my father says in a low, careful tone. “My daughter. I need to know. Did you eat the food in the Underworld?”
“I wasn’t starved, if that is what you mean.”
He glances at Hecate, who says nothing.
“I mean…” My father hesitates. This, too, seems false. When has he ever hesitated like this before? It is never because he is unsure of his thoughts. It is always done because he wishes to give a particular impression. It didn’t seem quite so obvious before I went to the Underworld. “Did you eat the seeds of the pomegranate?”
His face does not change once he asks, and that is how I know.
This is the thing that matters to him. The pomegranate seeds. They hold some importance. A great importance, if my father’s neutral expression means what I think it does.
I look directly into his eyes, aware of everyone watching. Aware of Hecate, who already knows.
“Yes.” I do not shout, but I use a clear tone, so that anyone who is listening to our conversation can hear, and there will be no mistake about what I have said. “I ate six of the pomegranate seeds.”
It is then and only then that the lights dim in favor of a stormy sky. His expression morphs to one of concern and the murmurs return, not nearly as hushed as they should be for the concern that suffocates the air.
Hades
I am nothing without my Persephone.
Nothing.
The pieces inside of me are hollow and empty. A shell of what I once was.
My power is meaningless without her beside me.
Anger and contempt are all that remain. My self-control has nearly gone. All the rage I have held inside me for so many years threatens to unleash itself on any poor soul who dares confront me.
I cannot tolerate this feeling. This emptiness. The places where she should be. She is missing from everywhere I look. She should be there, at the table. She should be there, in the bed. She should be there, in the hall.
She should be by my side. At this very moment, I need her.
Persephone should be kneeling at the grate, her gaze glinting at the magic she has worked.
Persephone should be pacing the room, a book in her hands, reading as she walks.
Persephone’s enchantments should still hold, but the bell she spelled to the door has fallen silent.
It has no one to protect anymore. The chill in the air notes her absence.
I cannot stand this room and leave it without looking at the bell.
I cannot tolerate being without her. I should’ve fought my way out of the Underworld. I should’ve gone to Olympus and shattered all its pretty white columns. I should’ve reached to every other realm, pulled it into the Underworld, and made it mine if that’s what it takes to have her.
Fate betrays me as I cannot. It is not possible to cross the realms. A sickness settles deep in my gut as my hands tremble with anger at my own doing.
I cannot do those things, and it does far more than infuriate me.
It makes me grieve. An emotion I have never felt.
She is lost to me. I cannot speak to her. I cannot touch her. I cannot even see her. As I stare into the abyss, I ignore the remaining screams, although they have slowed. Instead I focus on the memory of her touch and her voice and the beauty of her very existence.
I crave her. I’ve never desired anything. I knew not what it was to want.
It’s worse than losing my power. It is worse than losing my title. Sharper than any pain I have felt.
It is worse than war.
I stalk through the halls of my home, Cerberus at my side. He butts his noses against my leg and goes ahead of me so he can get underfoot, letting out low, worried barks until I drop to one knee near one of the garden exits.
“It’s all right,” I tell Cerberus, stroking the ears of one head, then the next, then the next. “It will be all right.”
I’m lying through my teeth, and Cerberus seems to know that, because he whines again.
Does he miss her as I do? Does he know that I cannot live without her?
I cannot say. But I do not want him to witness what will come next if she does not return as promised. Patience is a virtue that betrays me with this grief.
I get to my feet and move, ordering Cerberus to stay behind.
There is still unrest in the Underworld. Still crashes of rock and violent winds and souls lighting up the sky, crying out as they go.