Young Writers Society

Chapter 14: Time is Relative 

It seemed like they were walking for hours. Josephine’s legs were still insanely weak from their adventure the day before, and she struggled to keep up with Jase and Persephone. More screams from fellow competitors and animalistic sounds from Cerberus sounded not far from them. They approached a break in the trees and found the barrier that Zeus must’ve put around the game area.

“We must be going the wrong way,” Josephine said, turning around so that she could possibly direct them the right direction. Every time they heard something, it was as if it came from a different part of the dome, “Are you sure that it’s just Cerberus, Persephone?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” the Goddess of Spring responded as she ran a hand over her face in frustration, “This must be one of the illusions. The sounds could be fake. Maybe he’s not here at all.”

Jase leaned against a tree, “So what, we wait?”

“I guess,” Persephone replied, watching Jase with caution, “He said this is a Trial of illusions and nightmares, right?”

“Yes…” Jase said.

“So… don’t you think we would’ve seen one of our nightmares by now? Unless…” Persephone’s eyebrows crinkled and she brought a hand to her chin, thinking. Josephine knew that look.

“What are you thinking?” Josephine asked.

“What if time is relative in here? What if, just maybe, out there it’s only been like, two minutes?”

“Oh, stop it,” Jase whirled to face her, “There’s no way.”

“There’s always a way,” Persephone grunted. She looked at the sky, the gray clouds moving ever so slightly. She reached her hand up and then closed her fist, as if she was attempting to grab a molecule of oxygen, “Why don’t we find out?”

Persephone summoned roots from the ground, and as they rose a small barrier formed around the flora. She concentrated, allowing one to two flowers to bloom, and then within seconds the plants died, and the flowers closed.

What. The. Fuck.

Josephine’s eyes widened along with Jase’s.

The son of Poseidon pushed himself off of the tree and gazed across the wilderness, the trunks lined with obscure lines and rounded patterns, “So any magic conjured here, doesn’t last.”

“No,” Persephone countered, “I used magic against Malakai. It lasts, but only for a short amount of time. Time has changed here. Either we’ve been here much, much longer than we think… or we’ve only been here for a rather short duration of time.”

Jase began to speak when a large shadow overtook the trees. Josephine’s vision blurred, and she was no longer with her companions. She wasn’t in the arena; she was now in a dark room with a singular torch lit in the corner. Her heart raced as she struggled to her feet—finding she was dressed in only a robe. The picture changed, and the room lightened.

She was in her old bedroom. Her skin started to crawl as her vision was restored to normal. Faint music played yonder, and the sky was black; stars illuminated the sky as if she really was back to reality. Except, this time, she knew it was an illusion. If this was her nightmare that Zeus and Persephone spoke about…

Her father burst through the door, yelling in Greek about something she had no control over. He threw over every single instrument she owned—from her beloved violin to her trumpet that she barely used. Still, this was a nightmare come true. Josephine’s pupils shrank and her throat made a whimpering sound, but she found she couldn’t open her mouth. She couldn’t speak. Ares continued to ruin her quarters, throwing books off the wall and destroying lovely pieces of art that her mother gifted to her. He screamed and tipped over her bed, while she stayed silent in the corner of her room. Tears fell from her face, and she couldn’t think of anything except—

This is hell.

It hit her that her father has to be what—or in his case, who—she was afraid of most. She was frightened by just him, because she knew he was the god of war and destruction, and she was never of that nature. She knew, deep in her soul, that he never wanted a daughter. He didn’t want to produce weaklings.

But Josephine was no weakling. At least, not anymore.

She stood up to her father. Her fingertips sparked and she exploded into a million pieces, glass beams of light and heat filled the air in bursts of three. A ringing noise sounded in her right ear, and she followed it with her magic, drawing it more and more into her veins. She allowed the flames to engulf her—heat and screams of the crackling embers in her eyes voiced no retaliation… she was strong. Her father froze, and he burned. Oh, how he burned…

His body was no longer mighty and was now an ash sculpture, his hand raised in attempt to strike Josephine in the face—but to no avail. He was stuck in time. Josephine understood, now, what Persephone meant. Her magic died down and she stumbled backwards into the wall. She started hyperventilating—she squeezed her eyes shut and begged to the gods for it to stop. Her skin was still burning hot to the touch; she could now observe how she cooled down.

The picture shifted again, this time though, she was back in the arena. She stayed laid out on the floor with Persephone and Jase surrounding her. The air smelled of burnt flora and dark charcoal smoke weakened her view.

“Josephine!” Persephone’s voice echoed through the void, “You’re okay. Breathe, princess. Breathe.”

Josephine obeyed, trying to steady her heartbeat with every breath. Jase ran a thumb along her forehead and furrowed his brows, “What did you see?”

Josephine’s vision cleared and she struggled to sit up. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t explain what she had just experienced except for three words, “I saw hell.”

Persephone’s face tightened and she glanced around them, “You destroyed the whole arena. The shield cracked. We need to get out of here.”

Josephine glanced around them and saw that the trees were completely charred, fires raged in the underbrush and smoke piled into the air as if it was dancing to the sounds of the flames. She was filled with nothing but confusion. 

It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. Snap out of it.

Jase helped her to her feet, and she wiped a spare tear that ran down her cheek. She wasn’t sure why she was crying, but she knew it was one of two things: she got over her fear of her father, or she realized just how powerful she really is. If this illusion was meant to seem real, she had the magical capacity to defeat her father if she really wanted to. Who really knew what else she was capable of—because now she had defeated two gods, even if one of them wasn’t real. The only thing left to consider was why she had to experience her nightmares, and Persephone and Jase did not.

Maybe she saved them all.

Josephine turned around and noticed a crack in the shield surrounding them, as if it was made of glass. She placed her hand on the impact spot gently and closed her eyes. She could feel and hear people chanting her name. She smiled faintly and flicked the glass, watching as the cracks spread throughout the whole dome like spider webs. It dissipated shortly after, and they were back in the arena. Two other groups were alive with them— the daughters of Artemis and the sons of Hephaestus. Then, there was Josephine, Persephone and Jase, cattle amongst wolves.

“That was rather quick,” Zeus proclaimed on his pedestal, eyes interlocking with Josephine’s. He knew. He knew her gift, he knew what she was capable of. And by the look in his eyes, he was not happy nor comfortable with it, “I proclaim the victors of this Trial: Persephone, daughter of Demeter and myself; Jace, son of Hades and Hecate; and Josephine…daughter of Aphrodite and Ares.”

Josephine gulped and the crowd exploded into thousands of cheers. She was triumphant once again, but to what cost? This Trial may be over, but the fight for freedom was just beginning.