Chapter 22 Ophelia #2
"Hades." My father's smile is small, sad.
"You'd have these visions, I think. Dreams. You'd talk about a man made of shadows.
About a palace of black stone. About feeling like you belonged somewhere else.
" His voice drops. "You called him by name once.
Said 'Hades is waiting for me.' You were a toddler. "
It scared him. But something about it stirs a strange ache in me — the idea that even as a child, something in me already knew. Already reached.
"It woke me up," my father continues. "You were an ancient being stuck in the body of a child, and you were helpless, innocent. What they wanted..."
"Your mother heard you," he continues. "She was already unwell by then.
The cult's influence, the zealotry, it had taken its toll.
But hearing you talk about him..." He shakes his head.
"She became convinced that Persephone was already manifesting.
That you were trying to escape to the Underworld.
That if you succeeded, the prophecy would never be fulfilled, and Demeter would never return. That we were already too late."
"So she tried to kill me." The memory is there now, sharp and clear in a way it had never been before. My mother's face, twisted with fanatical certainty. The knife in her hand. The words she kept repeating: I'm sorry, baby. We'll try again. We'll get it right next time.
"I came home and found her standing over your bed. I'd already been planning to leave." My father's voice is hollow. "You were sleeping. The knife was already raised. And I just... I didn't think. I stopped her. And then I took you and we ran."
I shiver as I recall everything else.
"You killed her."
"Yes." He meets my eyes, and there's no apology in them. "And I'd do it again."
The certainty in his voice breaks something open in my chest. I realize I'm shaking. This is a lot. Too much. But I need to hear it. To understand it.
"I lied to you about your powers," he continues.
"Told you they needed to be hidden. And you listened to me because you were a child, and children believe their parents.
Eventually, you stopped using them. They became part of your imagination, something you'd outgrown.
" He pauses. "I thought I was protecting you. Giving you a chance at a normal life."
And he had. But he'd also left me vulnerable.
"I thought I'd have more time..." He shakes his head. "When you became an adult, I should have told you, but I just couldn't. I wasn't ready to lose you."
I bite my lip trying to keep it together as more tears stream down my cheeks. I've never cried so much in my life.
"Was it worth it?" I ask through my tears. "All the lies? All the hiding? Giving up your life?"
"Of course," he says simply. "I got so many years with you.
Where you got to be a kid who liked flowers and terrible jokes and old movies.
You weren't the Maiden or a vessel or a prophecy.
Just my daughter." His smile is heartbreaking, and he reaches for me, and I swear that I feel his touch, even though I know I don't. "So yes. It was worth it."
I'm sobbing now, great heaving breaths that shake my whole body.
"I didn't do it for a goddess," he says, moving closer. "I didn't sacrifice my wife, my life in the cult, my safety, for Persephone. I did it for you. For Ophelia. For my little girl who deserved better than being used."
"Dad —"
"That's what Hades sees too," he continues. "Not Persephone. Not the Maiden. You. Ophelia. The woman who makes terrible puns and cares too much about people and brings life wherever she goes. That's who he fell for."
"You don't know that." I wipe the tears from my eyes. I am so sick of crying.
"I do." His expression is gentle. "Because I've watched how souls move through the Underworld. I've seen him, Ophelia. In the space between life and death, you see things clearly. And I see the way his entire existence revolves around you. The love he feels for you is soul bound."
I want to believe him. Want to believe that Hades sees me and not just Persephone wearing my face.
But the lies hurt too much.
"He should have told me," I whisper.
"Yes," my father agrees. "He should have. But love makes us stupid sometimes. Makes us think we can protect people from the truth instead of trusting them with it." He tilts his head. "Sound familiar?"
The parallel hits me like a punch.
My father lied to protect me.
Hades lied to protect me.
Both of them thought they were doing the right thing.
Both of them hurt me in the process.
"I'm so tired," I say, closing my eyes. "I'm tired of being lied to. Tired of being used. Tired of everyone treating me like I'm fragile or precious or too delicate to handle the truth."
"Then stop letting them."
I look up at him. "How?" I ask. "It's not like I say 'hey, manipulate me.'"
"You're not fragile," he says, ignoring my sarcasm.
"You're not delicate. You're the daughter who survived her mother's madness.
Who built a life from nothing." Pride shines in his eyes.
"You're strong, Ophelia. Stronger than any of them give you credit for.
So stop waiting for someone to save you and save yourself. "
"I don't know how."
"Yes, you do." He starts to fade, the edges of him blurring into shadow. "Go back to him. Let him apologize. Let him explain. And then decide, not based on what he wants or what anyone else thinks you should do, but based on what you want. What you need. What you deserve."
"Wait —" I reach for him, but my hand passes through air. "Don't go. Please."
"I love you, sweetheart." His voice is distant now, echoing. "Not because you're the Maiden. Not because of what you can do. But because you're my daughter. My Ophelia. And you always will be."
Then he's gone.
Completely, utterly gone.
And I'm alone again.
But this time, something feels different.
I think about what Hecate said. About how I'm not two people. I'm one person who's lived multiple lifetimes. I want to understand that, and yet I can't. Because I don't remember Persephone, and shit, I don't even know if I remember being Ophelia.
But maybe it doesn't really matter that much.
These are just names. Not identities.
I stand up, wiping tears from my face, and make a decision.
I'm going back.
Not because my father told me to. Not because I'm ready to forgive Hades. But because I deserve answers. Real ones. And I deserve to make my own choices about what happens next.
No more running.
No more hiding.
No more letting other people decide my fate.
I walk to the door, take a deep breath, and open it.
Mother Callista stands on the other side.
She's smiling.
"Hello, Maiden," she says. "We've been looking for you."