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)
It pains me to hear these prayers. What am I supposed to do about a fire? I want to ask. How can I save you? I do not know. I cannot grow flowers to cover a house and put a fire out. I cannot call clouds to come pour rain on what is burning, that is for Poseidon.
I sit bolt upright in bed.
I sit at my altar for hours, asking for rain from Poseidon. Surely he has heard the pleas. My own pleas go unanswered…for he does not wish to go to war. Helplessness falls upon me. It is either Hades’s or my mother’s doing and given my mother’s powers… Hades.
No. I whisper the disbelief under my breath.
The prayers never cease. It seems there are more of them, overlapping so that I cannot understand the words. I concentrate hard on my magic. To bring life to hope. To remind them that life is precious and there are cycles, but there is always hope. Tears prick my eyes.
Is this not war against my own lover? To defy the fear he’s created for them? If it is, then I must also be at war with my mother, to defy the starvation she’s also delivered to the mortal realm. They will learn of my betrayal. That I bring life to hope. But that is balance. And I will not fail to do my part. With new conviction, I work my magic and the storm that brews in the Earth realm flows through my veins. We will not give in so easily to death and darkness.
I do not know when I finally drag myself to bed. The prayers still come, but exhaustion takes me under. There is no rest, for I am far too depleted.
There’s a lull in the morning, I think, because it is the silence that wakes me. I sit up, rubbing at my eyes, trying to settle my racing heart. Perhaps my magic worked even in my sleep. My soul is restless.
I swallow a harsh lump in my throat, wet my dry lips, and throw off the covers. I bathe and dress, blinking heavily. I have not slept very long, but another morning is here. On the horizon in the distance is a beautiful sunshine, a golden hue against a pale blue sky. As if my father no longer fights. Leaving the war for only my mother, my lover, and myself.
With shaky hands, I brush my hair and pull it back from my face with a golden tie, then sit down at the table in my room to eat. Bread. Honey. Water. None of my father’s wine. It is difficult to eat, but I force myself to do it. I need to keep my strength and my wits. I need to keep trying with my mother, and even with my father.
Most importantly, I need to make a decision.
Any life who consumes the seeds is condemned to remain in the Underworld for all time.
It is law. My fate is sealed. Although it is not what the Fates promised me. Absently, I chew and swallow another bite of bread.
They will call you the queen of death.
Those who love you torture souls in your absence.
The world is at your mercy.
Dropping the rest of the uneaten bread, I know war is not what I wish. The world is at my mercy, yet I cannot help them from Olympus in a way that will stop the destruction. I can soothe and comfort them and send my well-wishes to the mortals who are suffering, but I have not been able to stop my mother nor Hades from making them suffer. I can breathe new seeds into the earth and call them to grow, but I cannot replace land that has been destroyed. There is only so much I can change from Olympus.
The same is true in the Underworld.
I was learning to use the powers that dwell there and make my own enchantments. If I return, I may be able to bring different comforts to the souls there.
But if I am in the Underworld, the life-giving powers I have on Olympus will be gone. I am torn in the most brutal of ways. For my children need me in both life and death.
And if I refuse to go to the Underworld, I will never have those powers again. I need Hades to promise me or else I fear the prayers will bring me madness.
You ate the seeds. He owns you.
Anger prickles at the thought. How he dared to wish to own me. Yet, in the back of my mind I hiss the truth: I own him just as well.
My mother believes she has her own claim on me. I am her daughter. I will always be her daughter, whether I dwell on Olympus or the Underworld or in the mortal realm. We will always be bound by that tie between us, and I do not want to sever it. I do not want to lose her forever. And if this law is to be abided by, I will never see her again… The very thought breaks my heart. I cannot live without her, and I know she feels the same.