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 t
han obvious, Hecate,” Persephone snapped, frustrated with herself.
The Goddess of Witchcraft didn’t seem fazed by Persephone’s outburst and just smiled. “Do not see this as defeat, my dear. It’s only through a failure to control your power that we will learn how strong you truly are.”
But Persephone didn’t feel powerful, and she said as much. “I can grow plants and kill them. To gods, those are parlor tricks.”
“Right now,” Hecate agreed. “But that does not mean other powers won’t manifest.”
Persephone pursed her lips. She thought about how she’d been sensing emotions off and on since Sybil had come to her apartment.
“My dear, there’s darkness inside of you, and we have only touched the surface.”
A shiver slithered up her spine. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard those words.
Let me coax the darkness from you—I will help you shape it.
They were words Hades had spoken against her skin right before he explored her body for the first time, inside and out. She hadn’t known what he meant then, she didn’t know what Hecate meant now, and she decided she didn’t want to ask.
“Can you fix this mess?” Persephone asked Hecate. Thick pulp dripped from tree limbs onto the flowers below. It looked like a battlefield.
“I could,” Hecate said. “But then I wouldn’t have a lesson for later.”
“You want me to fix this?” Persephone knew she didn’t have to, but she threw her arms out, gesturing to the disaster in front of them. “What makes you think I can mend this when I couldn’t stop it from happening?”
“If I thought you could do it on your own, it wouldn’t be a lesson,” the goddess replied.