4. Persephone
PERSEPHONE
WILLOW
Trust the puppy.
Trust the puppy.
Oh, boy. I’m in trouble.
So far, I’ve trusted the puppy to lead me even deeper into the woods.
I’m beginning to think that there is no end to it.
It doesn’t help, either, that I’m hungry.
I’m thirsty. I kind of have to pee, but I’m holding out hope that the woods end, I find myself on a highway somewhere, and if I head far enough down the road, I’ll chance upon a McDonalds that’ll take pity on me and slip me some McNuggets and the bathroom code because I definitely don’t have any money on me.
Since I don’t think that’s going to happen despite my overly optimistic nature at times, I keep on trucking, hoping that—at the very least—we’ll run into some who might be able to help us.
The woman’s voice that made me second guess my sanity for a minute or two has disappeared. She’s not around to give out any other instructions except to follow after Sir, and since that was what I was doing anyway, I just keep on going.
For a good amount of time, it’s just the two of us. I try talking to him, hoping that maybe he’ll surprise me by speaking back. I mean, he smokes. He has fire in his eyes. Why can’t he talk?
He doesn’t. He yips and he growls, he barks, and he sometimes whines when he thinks that I’m taking too long to follow him wherever he’s taking me, but since I’m supposed to trust him and I can’t think of anything better to do, I let him lead the way, hoping he’s leading me to someone who can talk to me.
Is that what he does? Or is it just pure dumb luck that someone else happens to find us?
No idea, but not even Sir sensed the woman before she suddenly appears, stepping out from behind one of the thick trunks of the tree to my right.
I jump. Sir digs his front paws into the dirt, rump arched as he growls softly at her while keeping me behind me.
The woman doesn’t seem to notice. She just pauses for a beat, then her head jerks up, finding me.
I suck in a breath when I get a good look at her.
Whoa.
I’ve spent most of my life in Manhattan. I’ve seen all kinds of people, from interesting to unique to breathtaking.
This woman is firmly in the breathtaking category.
She has a timeless face and perfect features.
Dark complexion, dark eyes, and dark hair, she seems to glow as she watches me unblinkingly.
She is wearing a green dress that hits her ankles, a pair of old-fashioned golden sandals, and her curly hair is blowing around her face despite the fact that there is very little breeze now.
A cream-colored apron is tied around her slender waist. I can see the handle of a wooden spoon poking out from the top of the apron’s pocket.
Still. She looks like she should be walking runways rather than appearing suddenly in the middle of the woods—well, except for the fire in her hand, maybe.
Seriously. Her right hand is cupped in front of her, and I see an honest-to-God fireball-looking thing hovering over her palm. The orange light plays off of her black skin, and as I stare—and I know I’m staring—I see it reflect in the depths of her black eyes.
She looks close to my age, though there’s something about her that makes guessing feel pointless. There’s an air of something older about her, and she watches me like she already knows who I am even though I know for darn sure that I’ve never seen her before.
Sir growls softly again. It’s a tiny sound, more rumble than threat, but smoke curls from his nostrils.
And the woman smiles.
“There you are.” Her gaze flickers between the puppy and me. “You’ve already found each other. That’s good.”
I inch closer to the puppy. “Do you know Sir?”
She purses her lips, barely concealing a snicker. “Sir? Is that what he told you his name was? How… charming.”
“Um. No. Puppies don’t talk. I just call him that so I don’t have to say ‘hey, you’.”
I mean it as a gentle tease to break the ice. The way she twists her features, almost as though she doesn’t know what to make of me… yeah. I think that fell a little flat.
That’s okay. She’s a human; at least, I think she is. She speaks my language, and she’s physically there instead of being a disembodied voice. This is my best chance to get some help—or, at the very least, some answers.
And, yet, the next thing that pops out of my mouth is: “I’m sorry. But the fire… how are you doing that?”
Her eyes spark, further reflecting the flames in her palm. “Magic.”
“Magic?” I ask, part wonder, part disbelief. “You can do magic?”
“Of course.” She nods. “After all, I am the witch of the woods.”
Of course she is.
I go back to my default. A little humor never hurt anyone, and I ask her, “‘Are you a good witch or a bad witch?’,” quoting The Wizard of Oz.
A small smile, so I know that one at least landed, before she says, “I’m the one who foresaw your arrival. And because I also saw that we need you more than ever, I came to welcome you to the Other myself.”
What?
I blink. “This place has a name.”
“It has many. Olympus is one. You’re in the dark woods now, my domain, but if you keep walking, you will reach Delphi. Head west, and you’ll find Sparta.”
Olympus. Delphi. Sparta.
A cyclops.
A puppy with orange eyes who breathes smoke…
She nods, even though I don’t verbalize my suspicions out loud. “Yes. Ancient Greece in the modern world, tucked away in a mythical realm where we all get to play our part in keeping the old ways alive.”
The way she says that… I get the vibe that she doesn’t mean, like, cosplaying or something like that. But what can she mean?
What the heck is going on here?
She uses her free hand to gesture at her chest. “I am Cassandra.”
Cassandra. If we’re going with this is some sort of Greek mythology-inspired world—which, yeah, cyclops—then I know exactly who she’s pretending to be. Cassandra, the princess of Troy who was cursed by Apollo to see the future, though no one would ever believe what she prophesied.
Well. She did say she foresaw me coming…
Okay. Okay. If it wasn’t for that cyclops guy, and how he reminds me of what happened in The Odyssey when Odysseus faced off with Polyphemus, I’d immediately tell this Cassandra—this witch with freaking fire in her hand—that she has to be messing with me.
There’s a pocket of Ancient Greece on the other side of the mirror that came with my condo? That… that just doesn’t make sense.
Then again, they say seeing is believing.
And I saw that cyclops. I saw the flowers that bloomed beneath my bare feet.
I see the fire and the banked rage in her eyes that, the more I look at her, the more I can’t deny is there.
Though, to be fair, if my fate was destined to be like Cassandra’s, I’d be pretty pissed off, too.
Maybe she needs a friend. I definitely need someone who knows what’s going on here.
So I offer her a friendly smile rather than telling her that this… all of this… can’t be possible.
Magic, right? That’s what she said.
Do you believe in magic?
I definitely do now.
“I’m Willow.”
Cassandra shakes her head. “You’re Persephone.”
That’s a new one. “Um. No. I’m Willow Ackerly.”
“Your mortal soul might be. But the goddess you carry around with you… you are Persephone, and it’s about time you returned to the Other.”
I open my mouth to tell her that I at least know who I am when, suddenly, the same musical, feminine voice from earlier fills my head again.
I’m sorry. I’ve been so distracted, returning to Olympus. Have I forgotten to introduce myself? I am Persephone, goddess of spring. It’s so good to finally be awake and able to go on this quest with you, Willow.
I grit my teeth. The alternative is to shriek in fright, and since I know it’s rude to scream in the face of someone I just met—especially when she’s holding fire in her hand, can’t forget that—I swallow it back.
Cassandra gives me a knowing look. “I’ve seen that expression before. I’ve made it myself the first time I understood that, as much as I was once Poppy, I was now Cassandra, with all the history that comes with it. Persephone said ‘hello’?”
I nod weakly.
“Good. The sooner you understand who you are, the sooner you can do what you came here to do.”
What’s a nice way of saying that I was concerned for Sir and only followed him through the mirror because I felt bad for the pup?
I… I didn’t come here to do anything. Even if there is someone talking to me from inside my chest, inside my head… that doesn’t mean I am Persephone.
I can’t be—
Ah, but you are. You always have been. If you doubt it, touch the dirt. You bring spring everywhere you go now, and that’s because you finally awakened me.
Welp. There’s no denying that. I don’t even have to touch the dirt. All I have to do is look behind me and see the flowers that have started to bloom in my wake even with my slippers on.
Seeing is believing, and being in denial won’t help anyone. Might as well just go with it.
“Okay. I guess I’m Persephone. That’s swell. Only… I’d like to be Persephone back in New Jersey, if I can. So… can you tell me how to get home?”
“Yes.”
Relief rushes through me. “How?”
“Oh. No. You misunderstand. I can tell you how to get home, but I won’t.”
The relief vanishes as quickly as it arrived. “What? Why not?”
“Because you aren’t ready to leave just yet. The very same magic that brought you to the Other has you in its clutches. You belonged to it from the moment you stepped foot in this realm. You must pay its price. Only once you have will you be able to return mirrorside.”
Mirrorside. Of course. Why wouldn’t my world be referred to as mirrorside considering I had to pass through the glass to end up here?
But pay the magic? What does that mean?
I blow out a frustrated breath, trying not to take it out on Cassandra. Don’t shoot the messenger, right? “I’m sorry, and I’m not trying to be rude, honest, I’m not… but is any of that supposed to make sense?”
She thinks about my question for a moment. “Not yet,” she answers, “but it will.”
She could’ve just said “no”. “You said you saw me coming. That you saw Sir, too. Do you see what happens next?” I think of my empty condo and everything I left behind. “Do I go home?”
Cassandra is even more contemplative this time. Then, right when I’m beginning to think she’s not going to answer me, she says, “I could tell you what I see for your future, goddess, but you wouldn’t believe me.”
“Try me.”
She shakes her head. “I cannot. But know this: this Persephone plays a larger role than any that have come before her. The legends are breaking. The paths aren’t set in stone.
” Her eyes turn fully black: irises, pupils, and sclera included.
When she speaks again, her voice has deepened, reverberating as she says, “The Other lives and dies by your choices. Shadows are searching, and shades are waiting, but it’ll be a horse’s last shot that will save us all so long as you believe in Death. ”
Um… what?
Before I can ask what the heck that was about, Cassandra eyes return to normal. She squeezes her fist, extinguishing the fire in her palm.
Then, pointing at me, she says in her normal voice: “One last warning. Refuse to believe me at your own peril, goddess. Should he drag you down, do not eat anything the Underworld offers. If you hunger, there are trees in my woods that you may eat. If you have thirst, drink from my brooks. But in the Underworld… to feed is to stay.”
At least I understand that. If she really thinks I have anything to do with Persephone, I know what happens to the goddess of spring.
She’s captured by the god of the Underworld, dragged on a golden chariot to his realm of the dead, and forced to become his bride.
She eats six pomegranate seeds meaning she has to return to the Underworld for six months of the year.
It’s a legend that accounts for the turn of the four seasons, but if she really wants to sell this whole “we’re in Ancient Greece” thing, if I somehow end up in the Underworld, I can’t eat anything if I want to go home again.
Got it.
“Okay.”
Cassandra blinks. “You… you believe me?”
I shrug. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because I am Cassandra.”
“And I’m Willow.”
“For now,” she says, and she totally gets the last word in because, a heartbeat later, she’s gone.
She’s just gone.
Cassandra found us. The next time Sir and I stumble upon someone else in these dark woods, it’s a complete accident on our part.
The sun is beginning to set. Or, at least, I think it is.
The sky overhead has slowly traded its bright gold for deeper shades of amber and violet, though I still haven’t actually seen the sun itself.
The trees are too tall, their half-dead branches woven together into a canopy thick enough that the light filters through in scattered ribbons instead of shining directly overhead.
I don’t know how long we’ve been wandering at this point. Long enough for my feet to ache. Long enough for my stomach to remind me that the last thing I ate was pizza for dinner, and for my tired eyes to point out that I still haven’t gone to sleep yet.
I can’t. Not until I find somewhere safe, just in case another cyclops—or a witch with worse intentions than just warning me about my fate—finds me while I’m vulnerable.
One good thing about running into Cassandra?
I start to notice there is fruit growing on certain trees and bushes.
I’d noticed them earlier, but now I have to believe they’re safe to eat—and I do.
I grabbed a piece of fruit from the first tree we passed that actually had something growing on it.
It looked a little like a peach if peaches were more orange and twice the size.
Crossing my fingers and hoping she meant it when she said it was safe, I took a bite.
It tasted like a peach crossed with honey. It’s possibly the best thing I’ve ever eaten, and I think the same thing about the apples we find, and when I scoop up some of the crystal clear water running in a babbling brook and drink it to quench my thirst.
Now I just want somewhere to sit down. I’m keeping my eye out for something that might pass as a decent shelter when, suddenly, Sir stops so abruptly that I nearly trip over him.
“What the—”
One ear twitches before he wags his tail and bounds forward, tucking his body behind the thick trunk of an enormous oak. A second later, he poke his head out expectantly, waiting for me.
Great. Looks like it’s time for us to hide again.
I hurry after him, pressing my back against the rough bark just as a voice drifts through the trees ahead of us.
“I’m not asking you to stop being who you are.” That’s a woman’s voice. Young and undoubtedly frustrated. “I’m asking you to come home, Theo. That’s all.”
Very carefully, I lean around the edge of the trunk, tiptoeing a little closer to see if I can spy who is talking.