The leaf litter was gone, consumed by the earth. All around her sprouted a riotous slew of flowers: crocuses and violets, roses, larkspur, irises, narcissus, all blooming out of season in a frenzy of color.

Persephone climbed to her feet, unsteady as a new colt. She took a step forward. Where her bare feet touched the ground, more flowers blossomed, erupting from the soil.

“Stop,” she said. “Enough.”

She took another step, but still they followed her: orchids and hellebore, aconite and asphodel. She broke into a run, delicate flower heads unfolding in her shadow.

There was an open-sided pavilion at the bottom of the hill, overlooking a stream. She felt Hades’ presence before she saw her, the shape of her distorting the landscape like a bubble floating in glass.

She had not forgotten the list of ills she’d suffered at Hades’ behest, but she could not stand on her pride. Power leaked from her every pore; she needed aid, even if it came from Hades. As a conduit, she was not fit to contain the glut of energy that threatened to burst from her. Persephone’s skin felt incandescent, hot and tight and ready to fracture.

She barely slowed as she entered the pavilion, a ground cover of violets trailing in after her. Persephone grabbed the nearest column for balance, clinging to it as vines curled around her ankles and twined up along the column, seeking to be closer to her.

“Persephone,” Hades began, reaching toward her.

A surge of energy sparked through Persephone, and she stumbled, holding out both hands to brace herself. She fell upon her knees, fingers digging into the dirt and then recoiling as a line of hyacinths sprang up beneath her palms.

Hades crouched before her and took Persephone’s hands in her own. “You must breathe.”

“Make them stop, please, make it stop. I can hear them, in my mind,” Persephone said, her fingernails digging into Hades’ palms.

“What can you hear?”

“All of them,” Persephone whispered. Every tree, every bush, every riverside grass. It was as though the entirety of the underworld’s vegetation had awakened to her presence and were making themselves known to her. She felt as though their voices had set her ablaze, their song too enormous for her to hold.

Hades gently took back her hands, placing them on Persephone’s shoulders. “Breathe with me,” she said. “In,” she chanted, and paused. “Out.”

Persephone closed her eyes and did as she was told, focusing on the sound of Hades’ voice to drown out the others. She wept with the strain, her nails digging into her thighs deep enough to leave crescent-shaped marks.

“I can’t,” she gasped. “I—”

“Steady.” Hades counted out loud the moments between her breaths, her pauses growing longer so that Persephone grew quite dizzy from lack of air.