Page 80 of Those Fatal Flowers

Fragments of my sisters’ hushed whispers float down overme.

“What does this mean…?”

“How did this happen…?”

“Will she survive…?”

Finally, thankfully, I slip into unconsciousness.

But it’s not a quiet darkness that I find myself in. Scattered visions appear: a small town, the shadow of a man. I see Jaquob at the edge of a vast and dark subterranean river waiting for the ferryman; I see Proserpina.

She was still a child the last time I laid eyes on her, merely sixteen years old. Now she’s a woman, a beautiful one, with long, dark tendrils of hair that billow around her face like a lion’s mane. Her lips are painted a deep red, almost magenta. The color of pomegranates. How often I’ve pictured her popping those tiny berries, so dark that they’re nearly purple, between her teeth, savoring the sweet juice that trickled over her lips. How did their nectar taste? Did Dis kiss it from her mouth?

She stands at the edge of our secluded pool wearing a shimmering black gown. What I first believe to be silverthread is actually the soft twinkling of stars. Constellations ripple across the fabric. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen stands before me cloaked in the heavens.

I want so desperately to speak to her, but when I try to talk, all I can muster is empty hot air.

“Thelia.” She breaks the silence with the name I haven’t heard in millennia, her voice as sweet as honey. When she opens her arms to me, it’s all the invitation I need. I collapse into her embrace. She nuzzles her head against mine, and though I’m sure this is a dream, I can still smell her. It’s no longer the scent of morning dew and lilies like I remember, but something darker—it’s ceremonial incense, ash, and flame. It’s sweet, dead earth. The smell doesn’t match the memory of the girl I once knew, and when she releases me, I don’t see a child.

I see a goddess.

“We don’t have much time. My mother grew bored with torturing you and placed Scopuli outside of any ship’s path. I don’t think she expected you to live this long, but before she did that, I was always able to help.”

“So it really was you.” My heart flutters with the confirmation that I was right. “You sent the ships.”

A sad smile settles over her lips. “Of course I did. Without men to hear your song…”

“…we’d fade into dust.”

“I thought I was going to be powerless to stop that from happening, but when that last ship wandered astray, I convinced Tempestas to knock it farther off course.”

“The goddess of storms?” I remember how quickly that squall appeared, its wall of stygian black clouds gathering on the horizon. How had Jaquob described it?

It was like Hell opened above us and let loose its fury.

“I need you to listen carefully, Thelia. I’m a powerful ally,but my mother is an equally powerful enemy. Tempestas was leery to help this time—she won’t do it again.”

“What do I need to do?”

“You’re not trapped here in your current form. No more ships will pass, so you must leave Scopuli and convince moremen to return with you. I can save you all, but I need more blood. Their sacrifices will return you all to your divine forms; they will free you from this place. But without them this new body will only last six turns of the moon. You must hurry.”

Six full, round moons—one for each pomegranate seed.

“Why send me?” I choke; it’s all I can muster.

“Because you listened for me,” she whispers, cupping my face in her hands. “And you shouldn’t have been punished for a destiny that was already decided.”

“That’s not why I’m being punished.”

The Fates might have tied Proserpina to Dis, but they didn’t deliver her to him. I did that alone.

“Then because I know you can succeed.”

The words make my body tremble; they are seismic. I don’t deserve her compassion, and if she truly knew what transpired that day at the pool, she wouldn’t give it so freely. I retreat from her, ashamed.

“You shouldn’t,” I say, weeping. “I’ve failed you before. What if I fail you again?”

“Thelia…” she begins, but I’m distracted by a hole that appears in my chest. Inside the gaping aperture, there’s only darkness—and it grows, swallowing my body into that inky black. Instead of feeling frightened, I’m flooded with relief. This shadow will devour me whole, and I won’t have to face the woman whom I betrayed, won’t have to watch her features crumble with disappointment when she realizes the mistake she’s made trusting me with this task.

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