Page 84 of Hades and Persephone: Crown of Souls

“I should have been stronger.”

“How can you say that?” Poseidon demands. “You were only ever exposed to Demeter. She sheltered you against the rest of the world. She crafted you into exactly the thing she needed to defeat Hades and steal the Crown of Souls for herself. You were a pawn, brainwashed from the very beginning. One would argue that you didn’t have a chance at all. That it was us who failed you, for we failed to see just how ruinous her hold over you was.”

I admit, “I feel let down by my obvious lack of power. Both then and now.”

Surprise paints Poseidon’s face. “I would argue you are the most powerful of all the Gods and Goddesses.”

“Not me. Chaos.”

“Chaosisyou now, Persephone.”

I shake my head, but my admission sounds on a whisper. “She’s trapped inside me, Poseidon.”

“Persephone.” He commands my eyes to his. “Chaos has sought sanctuary inside you.”

I don’t know why, but emotion swells inside me. It’s too big to contain, and spills over in hot tears that streak my face, surely glowing bright under the light of the nearly full moons.

The realization that I’ve been in the Underworld for an entire moon cycle is sobering. For nearly a month, the living realm—my parents—have believed me dead.

As the tears continue to fall, Poseidon pulls me into his side with an arm around my shoulder. When his lips fall to the hair on the top of my head, I no longer feel discomfort in any form. He is my friend.

“You will come into your power, my friend,” he assures kindly.

I sniffle. “I’m a living human in a realm of Gods and the dead.”

“Weirder things have happened.”

I snort, pulling back to look into his face. “Like what?”

“I don’t know, but I’m certain they have.”

I shove against his chest. “You’re just trying to make me feel better.”

He asks seriously, “Is it working?”

I consider and nod. “A little, yeah.”

“Good.” He peers out to the sea again, untangling his body from mine before offering me his hand. “Come swimming with me?”

Wariness floods my belly. “I don’t know.”

“Not to Atlantis. Just,” he pulls in breath. “Swimming.”

My eyes drop to his powerful legs. Legs that will turn into a deadly fin.

I stutter, “I—I’m not the best s—swimmer.”

“I would never let you drown.”

My eyes scan the midnight blue sea. “I’m still alive, Poseidon.”

He chuckles. “I am aware, Persephone.”

“So, you know that I’m vulnerable to the bends, right?”

His face changes. Scores of pain flash in the lines of tension. He dips his chin to his chest. Quietly, he says, “I know all about decompression sickness in humans.”

It comes to me then. His pained confession that he’d tried desperately to bring with him a companion into the sea. That each one had died.

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