Chapter 4: The Daughter of Spring
Josephine watched Persephone. The daughter of Demeter was swift and
dodged every single blow that Abderus had for her. Her brown hair was tied back
in a braid, and her skin was dripping with sweat. She still managed to make it
look easy. Josephine had heard about
every story regarding Persephone and how her mother kept her locked away for
years. She’d learned earlier that Persephone had just recently discovered her
powers—shifting seasons, making flowers bloom. Not very useful gifts to have in
battle, though.
Persephone made up for it with how absurdly quick she was. Josephine had
never seen anything like it. Abderus was the son of Hermes, the fastest god, and
he was a well-known hero. Persephone’s
win would be an upset—causing millions of people all over Olympia to lose tons
of coins.
Eventually, Persephone took out Abderus with one more slice of her sword
to his leg, and he fell, leaving the daughter of Zeus and Demeter victorious.
Josephine decided right then and there that she would make the daughter of
spring and lightning her ally.
A wide smile spread across Persephone’s face as she wiped the blood from
her blade and disappeared under the over path. Abderus was dragged away by
guards.
It was Josephine’s turn. As she entered the arena, onlookers cheered and
screamed. She couldn’t make out any plain sentences—it was all a blur. All she
could focus on was the way Dimitra was staring at her from across the dirt. The
tall, toned, tanned-skinned girl met her eyes with malicious intent, causing
Josephine to draw her sword and get into stance.
“Ladies and gentlemen, deities and gods, children and yonder!” The
announcer, Hermes, exclaimed, throwing his hands up wildly in the air, “We now have the
daughter of Ares and Aphrodite, versus the daughter of Enyo and Asclepius!”
The crowd roared. It seemed like this was the main event. An evil smile materialized
on Dimitra’s face and made Josephine’s skin crawl. Maybe she wasn’t ready.
Maybe Theseus was wrong—
“Begin!” The announcer blew the loud, obnoxious horn.
Next thing she knew, Dimitra was wielding a bow and arrow. Josephine had
to think fast. She noticed that Dimitra must have injured her left leg in
sparring, as she was slightly limping. Dimitra was doing so much to hide it—she
wore a clear double layer of armor and instead of standing with her left leg
first, she was standing with her right. Dimitra was left-handed.
Josephine just needed to get to her before the arrow killed her first. Dimitra
raised her arms, and pulled the bow back, raising the weapon to her eyes to get
a clear shot. Josephine waited, never breaking eye contact, and grinned.
This seemed to confuse Dimitra enough that the young goddess missed
Josephine by two inches. Josephine ran for Dimitra and lifted her left leg to
connect with her injured leg.
Dimitra cried out and grabbed Josephine by her neck, lifting her up so
that her feet were dangling beneath her. Josephine could feel nothing but her
lower body getting colder… and colder… and colder… as she was being choked. She
couldn’t move, she tried moving her hands to Dimitra’s to pull them off—but
nothing seemed to work.
She started to get insanely cold. She knew something was happening, but
her face was now so swollen that she couldn’t even open her eyes. The crowd
went quiet for the most part, the onlookers whispered to each other, and
Dimitra squeezed Josephine’s neck even harder.
“What trick is this, huh?” Dimitra whispered with rage, “Please don’t
tell me the daughter of Ares and Aphrodite can control the seasons! What a
surprise that would be, wouldn’t it, weak one?”
Control the seasons? No, that couldn’t be. Aphrodite could do no such
thing, and Ares would rather be killed than to—
Persephone.
Dimitra’s hands got so cold that they started to become literal icicles.
She loosened her grip. She screamed and tried to move her arms, but she could
not. Wind was blowing only around Dimitra’s hands, as if Persephone was
wielding their power only to free Josephine.
Josephine twisted her neck to the left and Dimitra’s hands exploded into
a million pieces of blood, ice, and bone fragments. Josephine dropped to the
floor, her vision fading, as the daughter of Enyo dropped next to her, except now,
only one of them was breathing. Dimitra’s eyes rolled into the back of her head
as she bled out.
Josephine couldn’t help but feel bad for her as they dragged Dimitra’s
body out of her line of sight. She took a deep breath and touched her cold neck
as the crowd burst into a million emotions: some angry because they lost money,
and some extremely happy because they won money. Some of those people would
never have to work again—all because they bet on Ares’ and Aphrodite’s daughter.
She stood up reluctantly and disappeared into the inside of the arena.
She took a seat in one of the spare rooms used to prepare for battles and took
her head in her hands. She immediately started sobbing. She killed someone. In
the first trial, the son of Zeus lived—just barely—but he lived.
The door slowly opened, and Josephine didn’t bother to look up. If it
happened to be another contestant, she didn’t want to make herself look weaker
than she already is. Although, she did somewhat prove herself as a force to be
reckoned with today.
“Congratulations.”
The female voice was worm and inviting, and Josephine allowed herself to
look up. Persephone stood there, her hazel eyes scanning the handprints on
Josephine’s neck. Persephone was no longer dressed in battle gear, she was
wearing a white lace dress that covered her modestly, yet still hugged her
shape; and silver sandals that wrapped around her feet like vines. She looked absolutely
stunning.
“Why’d you help me?” Josephine asked. Her words barely came out—and
delivered as more of a whisper.
Persephone waltzed across the room and glanced out the window at the
crowds of people exiting the arena, “A ‘thank you’ would do just fine.”
“Thank you,” She looked back down at her feet and played with her hands.
She wasn’t going to ask the goddess anything more. She’d already done more than
enough and asking for answers seemed a little greedy. Josephine was just lucky
to be alive. She felt Persephone’s gaze land on her.
“My lover told me about you,” She started as she took a seat next to
Josephine, “He saw your fate. And I think we could help each other.”
Her fate? This lover she spoke of must be Hades, as she’d learned from
others around Olympus. Hades had kept her locked away In the Underworld and forced
her to plant a garden—to create life. That’s what was in the storybooks, but Josephine
wondered if Persephone ever truly loved Hades, or if she was planning her way
to escape. The Fates, however, were soulless beings, the unliving, who decided
how you were eventually going to perish. Hades had the ability to see what Fates
decided. He could also save souls—at the risk of tarnishing his own power.
Josephine didn’t bother to ask any questions about her fate. She knew
that even if Persephone knew, she wouldn’t be able to tell. The Fates will
automatically condemn you to the Underworld for speaking of someone’s way of
death.
“You do not die today, nor tomorrow, nor the next day,” Persephone
continued, “If you were wondering.”
Josephine mustered out a soft laugh and stood up, brushing herself off
in the process.
“How do you think we could help each other?”
In Josephine’s case, it was pretty obvious. Persephone, having a gift, could defend her and give Josephine time to discover hers. As for Persephone’s advantage, Josephine couldn’t think of anything—unless
Persephone already knew what her gift would be.
“I would defend you, but I need your help with something more,” She
stepped in front of Josephine, “Help me take down that scumbag of a god.
Hermes.”
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