74. Fury Was Etched in My Bones
Fury Was Etched in My Bones
Wounded and wilting,
I spent the night in Asteria’s room,
her arms holding me tight
as I wept in helpless anger.
I hated my tears, hated that this
was all I had left to show for my rage.
Hated that my father had treated me
like a possession, an object
to be handed over. ‘If I was a Goddess,
not a nymph, he would never do this to me.’
My voice was curdled with grief
as I shook in Asteria’s arms.
‘Goddesses have divine purposes, Styx,
but we too are bound by rules set by Gods.’
My friend was gently running her hands
through my hair, trying so hard to soothe me.
I met her eyes and said softly,
‘What are you telling me?’
Asteria shook her head sadly.
‘Just that our freedom is an illusion.’
She pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead.
‘But what we share, the power we have…
that is our own. No one controls that.’
Perhaps I was too unhappy to understand
what she fully meant in that moment.
But instead of responding,
I buried my face in her shoulder
and lost myself in my rage and despair.
Perhaps this was why the dream came to me
that particular night.
Perhaps this was why the prophecy
wormed its way into my mind.