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)
My father and I have never been close the way my mother and I are close. He did not spend the kind of time that she spent with me in childhood. He did not teach me magic the way she did, with a shared warmth between us, as if she was inviting me to come with her as I began to discover my powers.
I glance at her and it’s obvious she has thoughts of her own. Brooding in the corner, she stares down my father. Her own fingers stirring beside her. Her power is radiant and focused. She does not see me. In an instant she turns her attention to the ground beneath her. But it does not move and she restrains herself. Perhaps she suspected. But now she knows.
My love, Hades's voice murmurs in the back of my mind. You must come to me.
Hades. He lures me to the depths of the Underworld. Does he feel my pain at this moment? Does he know I am aware of at least one secret he’s held from me?
I came here to know the truth and now that I have it, I turn my back on my father and leave the gods and their pleasures behind me. As swiftly as I arrived, I leave.
My blood cools and the heat upon my crown settles.
I arrive at my rooms before I have even decided to go there. Once inside, I throw the door shut behind me, and as soon as I turn, I come face-to-face with Hecate.
My heart hammers. I might have expected Beatrice, but not Hecate. The great Titan and goddess of magic and knowing. After a few quick breaths I’m able to speak. “Hecate.” I greet her with a slight bow of respect.
“My child.” She greets me back as she does so many of her followers.
“It is the eve before the new moon,” she states in an even voice, and the pounding in my heart beats with anticipation. Hecate would not be here, telling me the phase of the moon, if she did not have something in mind. “I must return to the Underworld for Diepnon.”
I hold my breath.
“You are welcome to accompany me, if you wish.” Chills run down my shoulders.
My eyes burn with fresh pain at the thought of my mother realizing I’ve gone, but surely she will understand.
With my throat tight I dare to ask Hecate, “And would you take me back here if I were to ask you in the morning after the new moon has settled? When you lead the army of the dead back to the Underworld…if I were to meet you and plead for your help along the crossroads?” I swallow thickly, aware that I am asking such a powerful goddess if she would ignore the law of the gods if only I asked.
My heart pains in such a way I cannot describe. Tortured between a liminal space.
“I will accompany you for as long as you need,” she answers as if she knew I would ask.
I reach out for her hand and the Titan embraces me. The tears fall as I know my mother’s agony will be wretched.
And then I hear Hades call me his love once again like a whisper in my ear. As if he’s placed a spell on me, I must return.
“Please,” I say, relief warming me like a roaring fire. “Please, take me with you.”
Hecate glances at the door to my rooms. “It is hours until the moonrise. I will lead my hounds when the moon is fully in the sky. We will have to remain out of sight until then, and no one must see us leaving.”
Hades
The gardens remind me of her. Although they’re only crystals shaped to form petals laid in emerald chips, I’m hopeful she’ll love them. They won’t be a reminder of what she's lost, but rather a reminder of her power and how she changed the world. My thoughts drift to kissing her neck and the loneliness that I’ve felt without her when there is a crack in the sky above me.
The sound is muffled by the walls of my home, but I wheel around to look in that direction. Cerberus barks a joyful sound, as if someone has come home.
As if Persephone has come home.
Shadows move across the windows inside. Firelight flares in my rooms. I take one step toward the house, then another, and then I have no choice but to stop, every piece of my being on edge of what might be.
Every sconce on the walls inside is lit, and there are fires lit in the hearths. The flames get brighter in a pattern I can see from where I stand in the garden. The light follows a path down the hall outside my rooms, then rushes across a floor below, then another, until it streaks across the ground floor and bursts out the garden doors.