The Daughter of War - Chapter 41: The Light Between Us

Chapter 41: The Light Between Us

Warmth.

It was the first thing Josephine felt, a golden heat pressing against her skin, sinking into her bones. For a long moment, she let herself exist in it, afraid that if she moved, if she opened her eyes, it would all disappear, and she’d find herself back in the suffocating darkness with Hades.

The world around her was different. The air smelled of something sweet—jasmine?—and when she shifted slightly, her fingers brushed against silk, soft and cool beneath her touch. A bed.

I’m in a bed.

Her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. No sulfur. No souls trying pulling her under. Just the sound of a gentle breeze from two open windows.

Josephine opened her eyes.

Blinding white light flooded her vision, and she winced, lifting a hand to shield herself. As her sight adjusted, the room came into focus—tall marble pillars stretched toward a ceiling painted with pink and gold constellations. Golden sunlight spilled in from the open balcony, carrying the scent of blooming flowers.

Home. 

She exhaled shakily. They had won. They had escaped.

A rustle of movement drew her attention. Jase sat in a chair beside the bed, his posture slouched in a way she had never seen before. His usually sharp features were full of exhaustion with dark circles beneath his eyes. He was just Jase, and something about that made her heart hurt.

He sat there, half-asleep, with his head rested against the back of the chair, arms crossed loosely, one foot tapping absently against the floor. Slowly, Josephine reached out, fingers brushing his wrist. At the touch, Jase stirred, inhaling sharply as his eyes snapped open.

For a second, he just stared at her, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. Then, before she could say anything, he leaned forward, his hand wrapping around hers, gripping it tightly.

“Josie,” he breathed.

Something in her melted at the sound of her name on his lips. She had so many questions, but none of them mattered right now.

She licked her lips, her throat dry, “We made it?”

Jase let out a breath, smiling faintly, “Yeah,” he murmured, “You did it. We did it.”

Josephine smiled as wide as she could. Jase opened his mouth to speak again before the door creaked open, revealing the second most important person that Josephine needed to see—Persephone. “You’re awake.”

Her voice was breathless, almost frantic. Then, in a blur of dark curls and green silk, Persephone was at her bedside, gripping Josephine’s other hand.

“You scared the hell out of me,” Persephone choked, eyes watering, “I thought—” She cut herself off, squeezing Josephine’s hand tighter.

Josephine leaned her head back onto her pillow, “I’m fine,” she gripped Persephone’s hand back.

Persephone let out something between a laugh and a sob, “Barely,” she pulled her hand back, running a hand through her wild curls, pacing the length of the room, “Gods, Josephine, I wanted to come. I tried. But he—Zeus—he wouldn’t let me. The second Hades took you, I fought to go after you, but they stopped me. They said it was out of my hands. That it had to be you,” she shook her head, “I should have fought harder. I should have—”

“Persephone—” Josephine reached out, catching her wrist, “You couldn’t have. I understand.”

Persephone’s expression softened while she nodded, “I just—I couldn’t lose you.”

Jase sighed, “She didn’t need you to save her,” he sat up in his chair, stretching slightly before looking at Josephine with a tired grin, “She saved herself.”

Persephone rolled her eyes, smirking, “Oh, for once you’re not an asshole.”

Jase smirked. “There’ve been plenty of times where I’m not an asshole. You just never listen.”

Josephine blinked between them. Usually, they could barely be in the same room without gnawing at each other. But something was different. There was still tension, but there was less hostility, more understanding.

Persephone huffed but didn’t argue, “You got her out.”

Jase looked at Persephone, nodding, “I wasn’t leaving without her.”

Josephine gripped Jase’s hand tighter. If she could hold onto it forever, she would.

Persephone sighed dramatically, but her lips curved in a small smile, “Guess I have to start tolerating you now.”

“Guess so,” Jase yawned, “Josephine, do you have enough energy to stand? I think there’s someone else you’d like to see.”

Josephine perked up slightly, “My mother?”

Silence filled the room. Neither Persephone or Jase spoke.

Josephine’s looked at them, her relief now replaced by anger, “Tell me.”

Persephone bit her lip, glancing at Jase before finally sighing, “Aphrodite is… alive.”

The world tilted.

Josephine looked to her lap, her hand anxiously playing with the blanket over her, “No. That’s not possible. I saw her,” Josephine shook her head, voice lowering to a whisper while she shook her head, “I saw her die.”

“You saw what Hades wanted you to see,” Jase said, “He knew it would break you. Knew it would make you reckless. So, he made you believe she was gone. He had her imprisoned, as leverage.”

Josephine didn’t know how to feel. She’d spent the last few days thinking her mother was dead. She remembered Hera’s words: Gods don’t die. In this case, Hera was correct. But her mother got lucky.

“I don’t understand. How…?” Her words faltered.

“You’ve been through enough,” Persephone said, “I’ll explain everything later. But right now, your mother’s waiting for you. She’s alive. Come with me. She’s been waiting for you. She’s been... worried.”

Josephine’s chest tightened. She didn’t hesitate to stand.

Josephine’s legs felt weak, but Jase was right there, steadying her as she rose. The world seemed to spin for a moment, and she clenched her fists to ground herself. Jase kept his hand at her back, guiding her through his chambers, the walls lined with blue accents and portraits, some of whom Josephine didn’t recognize. Everything felt dreamlike.

Persephone led the way, her pace quickening as they moved toward the entrance. The palace was silent, almost unnervingly so. Jase’s words repeated in her mind, over and over again. You saw what Hades wanted you to see. But Josephine couldn't bring herself to trust it, not fully, not yet. It felt too much like a dream, a cruel illusion.

The door before them creaked open, and Josephine stepped inside. The room before her was bathed in soft golden light, and there, standing by a large marble column, was her mother. Aphrodite’s golden hair shimmered, and her eyes—the one’s she gave to Josephine—met Josephine’s with a slight twinkle.

Aphrodite’s smile softened with a gentle curve of her lips. She stepped forward, her arms open, and without a word, Josephine collapsed into her mother’s arms.

For a moment, they just stood there. Josephine clung to her, breathing in her scent. She didn’t know how long they stood like that, but when Aphrodite finally pulled away, they both took a deep breath.

“You did it, Josephine,” her mother cooed, “look at you. You remind me so much of your father.”

“Doesn’t she?” Jase scoffed in the background, “I almost couldn’t tell them apart,” he joked.

Josephine smiled and glanced at Persephone and Jase, “I never thought I’d hear that. That I resemble my father.”

“Look at all you’ve done,” Aphrodite moved to the windowsill, gracefully sitting down on the pale wooden bench. She patted the area next to her, “Come sit, darling.”

Josephine moved to sit next to Aphrodite but was interrupted by a set of heavy footsteps approaching from the connected hallway. A shadow fell across the doorway, and Josephine looked up, not surprised at who she saw.

Ares, her father, stood in the frame. He moved and took the spot next to Aphrodite instead, his armor clinking with every step. He almost refused to make eye contact with Josephine. She didn’t forget the favor he granted her; the fact he defended her in the first battle against Hades.

Neither of them spoke for a long few seconds. Aphrodite tilted her head slightly toward him. She gave him a glance that was equal parts longing and patience. Josephine had longed for Ares to see her—really see her. To hear the approval in his voice, the reassurance that she hadn’t been just a child of circumstance, of politics, of an affair between gods. That was the whole reason she got into godly affairs in the first place—the Trials. Even though she didn’t win, she still felt like she proved she was a force to be reckoned with. She just hoped that her father felt the same way.

Finally, it was Aphrodite who broke the quiet, "Ares," she began, "I think it’s time."

Ares’ jaw tightened slightly, a muscle ticking at his temple. But he didn’t argue. Instead, he sighed deeply. He turned slightly toward Josephine, though his gaze never fully met hers. There was a flicker of what looked like regret in his eyes, but it disappeared before Josephine could even truly register it.

“You’ve done well, Josephine,” he said, “You have defied all odds. Not only have you proven to the council that you’re more than capable of your own, but I’ve also underestimated you. I’m… sorry…” his voice trailed off, as if he was unsure whether those words were enough.

Josephine blinked. He had acknowledged her. After everything, after the years of waiting for a moment like this, it was finally here. Ares continued, “Don’t mistake me, you remind me of myself. Of what I was, before everything. I’m proud of you, Josephine. More than you know. I... haven’t been the father you deserved. But I’ve never stopped seeing you. Never stopped wondering if you were capable of greatness. You are, Josephine. You always were.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. She wasn’t sure who she was thanking, but it didn’t matter. For the first time, Josephine didn’t feel like she was waiting for something to change. It had changed. She had changed.

“You’ve earned it,” Ares said, his voice now quieter, the edge of his earlier coldness fading away. “And in time, you’ll earn more.”

Finally, Ares extended his hand to hers, grasping it firmly.

Josephine glanced at Persephone and Jase, who were hovering in the doorway awkwardly. Persephone waved discretely before disappearing behind the wall. Jase stayed for a few more moments, just staring at her with a look of approval. Not long after, he nodded his head once and left Josephine with her parents.

And as she had her first real conversation with her parents as equals, she realized she was no longer just a pawn in a game of gods. She was the daughter of war—the one who had overcome the darkness, the one who had burned through the trials to become something stronger.

Josephine knew this wasn’t the end for her. No gods, no fate, could change that.