She told her what happened last night with the thorns.

“It was effortless for him.”

“My love. You must remember that Hades is in his realm. Here he is all-powerful.”

That didn’t help, because all the times she’d used her magic with him, she’d been here in the Underworld. She wasn’t sure why it bothered her so much. She guessed because she had used that as a measure of improvement—and just as easily as he’d used his magic to turn hers into ash, he’d taken her fragile confidence with it.

Hecate sighed. “Perhaps I have overstepped. I am sorry for the bees.”

Once Hecate dismissed the bees, they focused on practice.

“Remember what I told you,” the goddess said, positioning her in front of the pomegranate tree. “Magic is malleable.”

Persephone did remember. They were words Hecate had spoken shortly after she started to feel life in the plants, flowers, and trees around her.

Practicing magic with Hecate was nothing like practicing on her own. The goddess was dedicated to the craft and meticulous in her instruction. Persephone was told to ripen the pomegranates on the tree in the middle of the grove. They weighted down branches of the tree, their skin was a greenish-yellow, bruising with a crimson red. It meant that she was going to have to demonstrate control in gathering and channeling her power.

Hecate’s words rose to the surface of her mind as she called up her magic.

Imagine it as clay—mold it into what you desire and then...give it life.

It was easier said than done.

Persephone felt the heat of magic pulse through her veins. It pooled into her palms like water warmed beneath the sun, and as she closed her eyes, she imagined herself manipulated the glamour into a ripe, red pomegranate.

“Perfect,” she heard Hecate say encouragingly.

Persephone took a deep breath and opened her eyes. She couldn’t see the magic she held in her hands, but she could feel it. It was energy, and it charged the air around her, raising the hair on her arms and the back of her neck.

“Now, direct the magic at your target.”

Persephone did as Hecate instructed, pushing her hands out as the magic pulsed from her palms, leaving them covered in a cold sweat. The magic reached the tree, and the pomegranates began to swell and darken.

“Yes!” Persephone jumped, excited by her success.

But the fruit kept growing.

And growing.

And growing.

Oh no.

“Take cover!” Hecate grabbed Persephone’s hand and dragged her behind a nearby tree.

A second later, she heard a loud pop as several pomegranates exploded. Persephone didn’t want to look, but she peered around the tree anyway. The whole grove was covered in red. It looked like a bloodbath.

Her shoulder sagged with defeat.

“You just used too much power,” Hecate said.

“I think that’s more than obvious, Hecate,” Persephone snapped, frustrated with herself.