Thalia's mother had spent the last two days moving back and forth through the city.
First to the police station, where she sat for thirteen long hours giving statements, answering the same questions over and over. After that, she returned to the scene of the monster attack, asking for information and searching for anything that might tell her what happened to her daughter as the authorities were being so tight lipped about the matter.
Her eyes were ringed with dark bags, her cheeks hollow from exhaustion. It was obvious she had been crying, her lashes still clumped with the residue of tears. Her hair was unkempt, and the same scrubs she'd worn since that day clung to her, now wrinkled and carrying the stale scent of grief.
She finally returned to her apartment complex. Standing outside, she tilted her head up to look at the window of her unit. The sight hit her like a punch to the chest. Tears swelled again, blurring her view, but she wiped them away, took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, forcing herself to hold it together. She still had Kyle, her other child. She hadn't seen him in two days, and she couldn't fall apart, not yet.
Climbing the stairs, she decided she would freshen up before going to pick him up. She was still in a state of shock, her mind struggling to process everything.
When she reached her front door, her hand hovered over the doorknob. Just the simple act of opening it felt like a monumental decision. Every time she had walked through that door, Thalia and Kyle had always been there to greet her, smiling, talking, arguing, filling the apartment with life.
Now, that would never happen again.
Her knees gave way, buckling beneath her, and she sank to the floor. One hand clutched the doorknob to keep herself upright while the other covered her mouth to muffle the sobs that escaped. She cried quietly, her shoulders trembling, the sound of her grief barely audible in the silent hallway.
Once inside the familiar smell of their apartment's scent hit her instantly, grounding her in memories that felt like daggers. She set her bag down slowly, her legs carrying her on instinct rather than willpower. Step by step, she drifted down the hallway until she reached Thalia's door.
As she slowly opened the door, an immense pressure greeted her and she instantly began to shut down. A sudden weight crushed her chest, her breath caught in her throat, the hallway twisted around her, shadows smearing into one another. She became lightheaded and the floor rushed closer and closer until her knees buckled.
Her hand clawed at the frame of the door, nails dragging helplessly across the wood, but it wasn't enough. The last thing she saw was Thalia's pale silhouette sitting by the window, bathed in silver moonlight, before the world went black.
A dull thud echoed as her body collapsed on the floorboards.
"Mistress? Can you hear me?"
A man's voice echoed faintly, deep yet refined. Through the haze, her vision flickered back into focus, and the blurred outline of a figure leaned over her.
"It seems your mana is finally recovering, Miss."
Her eyes fluttered open, and the world around her sharpened. She lay on a massive bed, its canopy draped in heavy velvet embroidered with golden filigree. The mattress sank like a cloud beneath her, layered with silken sheets and blankets dyed in deep royal purple. Around her, tall gilded pillars rose to the ceiling, where a chandelier of crystal bathed the chamber in a soft, moonlit glow. Paintings framed in gold adorned the walls, each one capturing ancient scenes of gods and mortals, while ornate vases and carved furniture lent an air of timeless grace.
At her side knelt the man. Two fingers pressed gently against her wrist to measure her pulse, while his other hand adjusted the gleaming silver watch fastened to his wrist. He was striking, jet-black hair, finely tailored butler's attire, and movements that carried a natural grace bordering on aristocracy.
The butler drew back once her breathing steadied. With a seamless gesture, he lifted a silver tray from the bedside table, delicate porcelain teacups and utensils clinking softly upon it. Without a word, he turned and began walking toward the door.
Then it hit her. A sudden wave, like a dam bursting inside her mind, memories flooding back, stretching beyond time, beyond comprehension. A millennia, no, hundreds of thousands of years… perhaps more. A sharp pain stabbed her skull, forcing her to wince.
She was beginning to remember.
"…Asclepius…" she whispered hoarsely, calling him as though she had spoken his name countless times before.
The butler paused and turned. Slowly, he tilted his head and have a warm smile.
"My lady, you mustn't exert yourself," he said calmly. "You've been badly wounded. You must reserve your strength."
Her lips trembled as she forced the words out. "Asclepius… I had a dream. It felt so real. I… I had a son, and a daughter… Her name…" Her voice cracked, tears threatening at the corner of her eyes. "…Her name was Thalia."
At the sound of that name, her chest tightened as grief like lead pressed down upon her. "She was so beautiful…"
Asclepius bowed his head slightly. "The medicinal herbs I infused into your tea may cause strange effects. Dreams. Confusions. But I assure you, Lady Persephone, you will be back to full power before long. Please, rest now."
He stepped through the towering doors, closing them quietly behind him, leaving her in silence.
For a long moment, she lay frozen, the echo of her own name reverberating in her ears.
Persephone.
She rose from the bed, the silken sheets slipping off her, and walked across the room. Her bare feet pressed into the cold marble floor until she stopped at a towering mirror framed in black obsidian.
Her reflection gazed back, she was draped in a thin, lace-like garment that clung to her elegantly, the wide sleeves and hem flowing like liquid shadow. Her skin glowed with ethereal perfection, free of even the smallest blemish. Her silver eyes gleamed with an otherworldly light, and her long dark hair drifted around her face as if carried by a phantom wind.
"That's right," she murmured. "I am Persephone, daughter of Zeus and Demeter… Primordial Goddess of the Dead."
She raised her hand, and instantly, the shadows across the room stirred. They slithered along the walls, gathering like dark smoke into a swirling mass at her command. With a single clench of her fist, the shadows halted and vanished in silence.
"But then why?" she whispered. "Why do I, a primordial being, have such memories? I was told I would never bear a child. And yet… I see them. I feel them. A son… a daughter…"
She staggered suddenly, her head throbbing with blinding pain. The floor spun beneath her, dragging her down. She collapsed, her body greeting the cold ground with a hollow thud.
Her eyes flickered again, adjusting to a different ceiling, no chandelier, no gilded beams. Just the familiar, peeling white paint of her hallway back home. She lay sprawled on the floor outside Thalia's bedroom door.
Her mind began to race as confusion and fear flooded her veins.
"…What the fuck is happening to me?"