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November 25, 2024 - January 16, 2025
“I am Persephone, future Queen of the Underworld, Lady of Your Fate. May you come to dread my presence.”
This…it went beyond love. It was devotion. It was worship. It was the power that began and ended worlds, and if he had to, he would do so in her name. He knew those words were true because he felt them so deeply, it hurt.
“No one is deserving of my presence,” she said. “I am a plague upon men.”
“Do not pretend Persephone does not know who she has chosen to love,” Hecate said. “She sees all of you. She is the Goddess of Spring after all. She is used to life and death.”
“Oh, darling, but I have told you before—for you, I would destroy this world.”
“I never thought I’d thank the Fates for anything they gave me, but you—you were worth all of it.”
“All of what?” “The suffering.”
“I will give you the world,” he whispered, his mouth hovering over hers. “I don’t need the world,” she said. “I just need you.”
There was no man in the world who would claim such a thing; only women were taught their pain was never enough.
“Trust, darling, I will let no one—not king or god or mortal—stand in the way of making you my wife.”