She’d not prayed to her mother before, having never been separated for any significant amount of time. Who else could she turn to? None of the other gods would be looking for her.

She shifted her weight, stretching her arms up before her, knees locked together in prostration. Her breath fogged the cold tile. “Forgive me, Mother. I should have listened to you. Should have been more wary of Hades. If only I’d kept your favor...”

She remained in that position for long minutes, until her fingers and toes grew numb and her joints protested. Demeter would not hear her. And even if she heard her, what could she do? Hades’ rule in the underworld was absolute.

She picked herself up off the floor, walked through the rubble of the shattered amphora, and tried the door. It was locked. She banged on it with her fists, but no one answered.

The chiton on the bed seemed to mock her. She shoved it to one side and fell into bed, curling up with her knees to her chest. Few options seemed to remain. A virtuous human woman in her position might have killed herself, but Persephone wasn’t even sure how that could be done, and besides, a successful suicide would bind her to the underworld forever, putting her eternally under Hades’ command.

She could mutilate herself, make herself so hideous that no one would want her, but most wounds of the gods could be healed.

Persephone wrapped her arms around her knees, holding on tight to make herself as small as possible. No matter what, if she were ever to see the surface again, she had to survive. If she couldn’t escape, she had to live until someone came for her.

She had to believe that someone would come.

6

THE RIVER

A sound woke her in the middle of the night. She sat still in bed, thinking to cry out to Demeter before remembering that she wasn’t at her mother’s estate.

She wiped a tear from her eye and sat up. She had kicked off her sandals before falling asleep, but now she put them on again, remembering the floor was littered with shards.

The pale light of night time in the underworld streamed through her windows. She walked to her door, broken pieces of amphora crunching underfoot, and tested it.

The door swung open with an ominous creak. Persephone had been leaning her whole weight against the doorknob, and the unexpected lack of resistance meant she almost spilled out into the corridor.

Outside, all was silent. She could not see any servants or guards, nor any sign to indicate something out of the ordinary.

Had something happened?