Page 30 of The Dread Queen's Bargain

Persephone wasn’t used to Hecate’s ability to cut to the quick and wasn’t prepared for it. She stepped back and stared at Hecate with wide eyes, her hand coming up to her chest.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Hecate waved it off. “You’re never going to be able to figure out your powers if you can’t figure out yourself.”

“Well, I hope you’re prepared to stand out here for another millennium.” Persephone quipped. “Frankly, you don’t know me very well.”

Hecate was unperturbed, still effortlessly collected.

“I’ve dealt with worse.” Her tone softened as she studied Persephone. “You might think I don’t know you, child, but you would be wrong. The Underworld has waited centuries for you, me included.”

Persephone started to get choked up, tilting her head backward so her tears didn’t fall. “The whole Underworld, huh? I can think of someone who wasn’t particularly keen to find me. All that time, I was suffering from Demeter.”

Hecate placed her hand on Persephone’s shoulder. “Hades was never going to save you from Demeter. That was always going to be something you had to do for yourself. As far as coming to find you, trust me when I say there was nothing he dreamed about more. But dreams are tricky things. Often, the ones we want the most, we’re afraid to chase. Because gods forbid, we catch them and realize they were only our imagination.”

“Cryptic.” Persephone sighed heavily, wiping at her cheeks. “I still don’t think that will make me any better at this.” She looked over at the small tree with a frustrated expression. “If I can’t figure this out, I’m proving Demeter’s point that I’m better off being her lackey and a minor spring deity.”

“Persephone,” Hecate sighed heavily, shaking her head, “as long as you believe that, it’s true. Magic is intuitive. It responds to you. If you do it to degrade yourself, your power won’t listen to you.”

“You’re making this sound a lot easier than it is.”

“I’m not.” Hecate raised an eyebrow. “It’s exactly like I said. You don’t want to belong with the Olympians and don’t feel like you belong here yet.”

“Yet?” Persephone sniffled, a few tears escaping as she finally turned towards Hecate. Hecate’s expression softened, and she opened her arms, pulling Persephone into a tight embrace.

Persephone’s chest cracked wide open. She wrapped her arms around the older goddess and squeezed, feeling unmoored and adrift. Her worldview shifted in a matter of days. She didn’t know what to make of her newly discovered identity or process her feelings for Hades. Hecate held Persephone until she was the one to let go, sniffling furiously and pinching the bridge of her nose.

“I bet I look glamorous now.” Persephone grinned. Hecate chuckled and squeezed Persephone’s shoulder again, redirecting her towards the sapling across the yard.

“I know you can do it.” She smiled. “The Underworld has been waiting for you, Persephone, but not as long as I think you’ve been waiting to find yourself. Try again.” Hecate took a few steps backward as Persephone cleared her throat and recentered herself.

You can do it. Persephone closed her eyes and breathed deeply, feeling the rush of magic start pounding in her veins again. You were always meant to do it.

Persephone considered the small tree and envisioned it growing taller than Hecate’s house. The fresh spring powers bubbled in her veins, coming forth without hesitation. The entire valley started to smell of fresh grass and rain, and Persephone welcomed the familiar sensation of the powers she’d known her whole life. When she opened her eyes, the sapling was a behemoth, towering over Hecate’s house.

“Excellent.” Hecate clapped her hands once. “But that’s the easy part, Persephone.”

“I know,” Persephone grunted, cracking her knuckles before fixating on the same tree again.

Persephone took a deep breath and began focusing on the world around her. She thought of life in all its cycles—birth, death, and rebirth. She pictured spring turning over to summer, fall, and winter, a continuous motion that never ceased, even for the gods. The magic in her veins began to blacken and started rushing through her body. The powers of spring felt like a warm summer breeze, but the magic of the Underworld was almost overwhelming. It left no space for anything else; it was all-consuming in its path as it ran through her. It was heady, addicting, and powerful. Persephone wanted to stop and simultaneously gasped for more.

“Persephone!” Hecate’s voice sounded distant as if she was calling to Persephone from a dream.

Persephone didn’t listen—or couldn’t listen. Her heart was racing, and all she wanted to do was keep falling deeper and drowning in the intoxicating sensation of darkness and all its mastery. Everything she’d ever wanted was hidden inside those powers, desperate to be let out and craving the ability to cut herself free of any expectations placed on her shoulders.

“Wake up!” a second male voice called out, but Persephone didn’t recognize it. She continued slipping, deeper and deeper, embracing the complete authority and exhilaration running through her veins.

“Pærsæphóni!” A deep, booming call vibrated through Persephone’s bones. It shook her awake, and Persephone started blinking her eyes, looking around for the source of the voice. All she could see was darkness, and she began to panic.

“What’s happening?” Persephone cried out. “Where am I?”

“Focus on my voice and my voice alone,” the abyss said. “Who are you?” Persephone started feeling light-headed as her pulse started pounding faster and faster. The dark was so warm, so enticing. All she wanted to do was to close her eyes and sleep forever.

“Answer me,” the abyss demanded. “Who are you?”

“Persephone,” she mumbled, her voice sounding weak and lost. The rolling blackness around her started to shift. Persephone felt she was lost in a sea of power and complete darkness.

“Not good enough,” the mysterious speaker insisted. “Who are you?”

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