“I’m here,” she whispered.
He lifted a hand and brushed a finger along her cheek. She inhaled, closing her eyes until his touch fell away and when she opened them, she found that he had closed his.
“Hades!” she placed her hands upon his face and his eyes opened into slits.
“Hmm?”
“Stay with me,” she begged.
“I cannot,” he said.
“What do you mean you can’t?” she said. “You can heal yourself. Heal!”
His eyes were open wider now and his expression sad.
“Persephone,” he said. “It’s over.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. She threaded her fingers through his matted hair and smoothed her hands over his chest.
Hades’ hands clamped down upon hers. “Persephone, look at me,” he commanded. It was the strongest his voice had sounded since she’d found him lying here. “You were my only love—my heart and my soul. My world began and ended with you, my sun, stars, and sky. I will never forget you but I will forgive you.”
Tears burned her eyes and thickened in her throat.
“Forgive me?”
It was like those words made her more aware of her surroundings and the horror around her. She suddenly realized where she was and remembered the events that had proceeded this—she was in the Underworld and it burned. There was nothing left of the lush and elegant beauty Hades had created—not the gardens or the village of Asphodel, not even the palace loomed upon the horizon. In their place were fire and thorns—they were thick and spiraling, gathering debris like a needle through thread—and it was one of those branches that had pieced Hades through the stomach.
“No!”
She tried to command the branch to vanish and when that didn’t work, he tried to break it but her hands slipped on Hades’ blood.
“No, please. Hades, I didn’t mean—”
“I know,” he said, quiet. “I love you.”
“Don’t,” she begged, tears streamed down her face. Her throat hurt, her chest hurt. “You said you wouldn’t leave. You promised.”
But Hades did not move again, and Persephone’s screams filled the silence as her pain manifested into darkness.
Later she woke surrounded by the familiar scent of spice and ash, her body cradled gently against a hard chest. She opened her eyes and found herself within Hades’ arms. The shock of seeing him well and unharmed made her skin feel too tight and tingly.
“You did well,” he said.
His words only served to summon a fresh wave of emotion. Her lips quiver and she covered her face as she began to cry.
“It’s okay,” Hades said, his arms tightened around her and his lips pressed into her hair. “I’m here.”
She only sobbed harder. She worked to collect herself, to reign in her emotion, because she needed distance from him and this space where she had witnessed horror that had felt so real.
She struggled free of his grasp.
“Persephone—”
She got to her feet and turned on him. He sat on the ground, looking much the same as when they started—completely unchanged by what had occurred and that only served to anger her more.
“That was cruel.” Her throat hurt as she spoke, rasped and ruined. “Whatever that was, it was cruel.”
“It was necessary,” Hades said. “You must learn—”
“You could have warned me,” she said. “Do you even know what I saw?”
His jaw tightened and she knew he did.
“What if the roles had been reversed?”
His eyes went flat.
“They have been reversed,” he said.
She flinched. “Was that some kind of punishment?”
“Persephone—” he tried to reach for her, but she took a step away.
“Don’t—” She put her hands up to stop him. “I need time. Alone.”
“I don’t want you to go,” he said.
She didn’t know what to say, so she shrugged. “I don’t think it’s your choice.”
She vanished, but not before hearing Hades utter a low and guttural growl.
CHAPTER XXII – A TOUCH OF REGRET
Persephone appeared in a bathroom. As she landed, she went to her knees and vomited into the toilet. She wasn’t there long when she heard her name.
“Persephone?” Sybil’s confused voice came from nearby, and the goddess looked up to find the oracle in the doorway, a knife in hand. “Oh, my gods, what happened?”
She came farther into the room, and Persephone put up her hand to stop her from approaching.
“It’s okay. I’m okay,” she said, heaving once again.
There were a few long seconds when she couldn’t speak and Sybil approached, drawing her tangled hair away from her face and placing a cool cloth against her forehead. When the nausea passed, Persephone sat back against the tub, her body sagging with exhaustion. Sybil took a seat nearby. She had no idea what she must look like, but if her hands were any sort of indication, it must be bad. They were dirty and bruised, her nails torn and bloodied and there was a soreness in her wrist that reminded her of her earlier fall.
“Will you tell me what happened?” Sybil asked.
“It’s a long story,” she answered, but really, she didn’t want to think about it right now because she wasn’t sure she could keep from getting sick, and she had nothing left to throw up. Just thinking of having to recall details made her stomach churn.
“I have time,” Sybil said.
Movement came from the door and for a heartbeat, Persephone thought Hades might have followed her to Sybil’s, but instead she found a familiar face staring back.
“Harmonia?” Persephone asked, her brows knitting together. “What are you doing here?”
She smiled, holding Opal in her arms. “Hanging out,” she said. “Are you alright?”
“I will be,” she replied and then looked at Sybil. “Can I…take a bath?”
“Of course,” Sybil said. “I’ll…get you some clothes.”
Persephone waited to move until Sybil returned. She placed a set of clothes on the countertop near the sink along with a towel and washcloth.
“Thanks, Syl,” Persephone whispered.
The oracle hesitated in the doorway, frowning.
“Are you sure you’re okay, Persephone?”
“I will be,” she said and then smiled faintly. “Promise.”
“I’ll make you some tea,” she said before closing the door.
Persephone rose and started the faucet, letting it run hot until the steam wafted in the air and fogged the mirror. She peeled off her clothes and lowered herself into the waiting water. Completely immersed, she closed her eyes and focused on healing everything that ached—her scratched throat, bruised body, and sprained wrist. Once she felt a little more whole, she drew her knees to her chest and buried her face into her arms and sobbed until the water was cold. After, she rose, dried off and dressed.
She found Sybil in the living room alone, a cup of tea waiting. The oracle sat cross-legged on the couch with the television on, but Persephone didn’t recognize the program and Sybil didn’t seem to be paying attention, either. She had a deck of oracle cards in hand and was shuffling them.