⌜𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: Knowledge of EPIC: The Musical isn't technically needed; this can be read with just common knowledge of Greek mythology and The Abduction of Persephone.⌟

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⌜Cycles of Me, Cycles of You | Chapter 01
Chapter 01 | The Beginning⌟

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Summer stretched long and golden, its warmth clinging to the hills and fields like a lover reluctant to let go.

The days in the mortal world felt endless, bathed in golden hues, the scent of ripe fruit and tilled earth filling the air. Yet, for all its beauty, for all the life bursting from the land, Persephone couldn't shake the weight pressing against her chest.

Her time above was slipping away.

A week.

That was all she had left before the seasons turned against her, before the call of the Underworld pulled her back into the arms of the dead. It had been eons since she first became Hades' wife, and while time softened the raw edges of her fate, it didn't erase the ache that grew every summer's end.

She still missed her mother. No matter how many times she left, the separation always carved a hollow space inside her, an emptiness nothing else could fill.

Persephone sat beneath the shade of an olive tree, fingers running absently over the earth, deep in thought. The soft hum of cicadas filled the air, the sound mingling with the distant laughter of nymphs dancing in the wheat fields.

She should have been spending these last days savoring every moment, clinging to the warmth of the sun and the feel of soft grass beneath her feet. But instead, her mind churned, restless.

She hated leaving her mother with nothing but sorrow.

Then, a thought struck her suddenly, sharp and certain—a gift. Something that would last even when she was gone. Not just a token, not some lifeless trinket, but something living, something that would carry their love through the seasons, even when winter swallowed the land.

Her fingers pressed into the soil, feeling its richness, its quiet, waiting power. And then, she knew.

A seed. A tree. A living memory of the love they shared.

She worked quickly, with the kind of focus only a goddess could possess. From her palm, she summoned a seed no larger than a pearl, cradling it in her hands like something sacred. It was more than just a seed—it was a piece of herself, woven from love, sorrow, and longing. She breathed upon it, whispering secrets of life and growth, feeding it with the warmth of her presence.

It took root beneath her fingertips, delicate but determined, a tiny twiglet pushing through the soil. Its leaves trembled under the summer sky, catching the golden light like pieces of the sun itself.

Each day, she nurtured it, whispering to it in the quiet hours of dawn, running her fingers over its fragile form.

She spoke of her mother, of the love that stretched between them like an unbroken thread, of the ache of parting and the joy of reunion.

She infused it with memories—the way Demeter's hands brushed over her hair, the laughter that echoed through the fields, the way her embrace felt like home.

And against all odds, the twiglet survived.

By the final day, it had sprouted three small leaves, vibrant and full of promise. Persephone's heart ached at the sight of it, pride and sorrow mixing in equal measure. It was ready.

The hour of departure arrived too soon.

Demeter stood at the edge of the field, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her usual radiance dulled by the weight of another goodbye. Hades was already waiting, standing just beyond the trees, his presence like the creeping shadow of winter itself. His dark robes fluttered slightly in the breeze, but his face remained unreadable, patient.

He would not rush her.

Persephone turned to her mother, cupping the small twiglet between her hands. "For you," she said softly.

Demeter blinked, her gaze flickering down to the fragile thing resting in her daughter's palms. For a moment, she didn't move, as if afraid it would crumble beneath her touch.

"What is this?" she asked, though her voice betrayed her—she already knew.

"A gift," Persephone murmured. "A piece of us. It will grow... even when I am gone."

Demeter swallowed hard. Slowly, almost reverently, she reached out, her fingers brushing against the tiny leaves. She could feel it—the power humming within, the undeniable imprint of her daughter woven into its essence.

Persephone smiled, though there was sadness in her eyes. "I don't want you to only feel loss when I leave."

The silence between them was thick, heavy with unspoken things.

Then, with a deep breath, Demeter pulled her daughter into a crushing embrace, her fingers tightening as if she could keep her here, as if sheer willpower could stop the turn of fate. Persephone buried her face in her mother's shoulder, holding on just as fiercely.

A cough from behind them—Hades.

The moment shattered.

Demeter let go first, reluctantly, her hands trembling as she stepped back. Persephone didn't look away as she moved toward her husband.

And then, as always, it happened.

The sky darkened...

...The warmth faded...

...The world stilled.

Hades reached for her, and Persephone took his hand.

As the ground split open beneath them, swallowing them into the depths of the Underworld, Demeter felt the weight of loss settle into her bones once more.

And then—

A tear slipped down her cheek, falling silently onto the tiny twiglet's leaf.

The moment the tear met the fragile green, something shifted. The air thickened, the earth hummed, and for the smallest fraction of a second, the twiglet pulsed with something—something ancient, something more.

But Demeter, lost in grief, didn't notice.

She only clutched the fragile thing to her chest and whispered, "Grow well, little one."

And so... it did.

☆
✩

Seasons passed, turning the world in endless cycles of warmth and decay. The twiglet, so fragile in its first days, rooted itself deep in the sacred soil, stretching toward the sky with quiet determination.

It grew in silence, through years of sun-drenched summers and frostbitten winters, its leaves shifting through the colors of time—spring's soft green, summer's golden glow, autumn's russet reds.

Centuries blurred together, yet the tree never stopped changing.

It didn't grow like a typical tree, standing tall and straight, reaching evenly toward the heavens. No, this tree was different. Its trunk twisted in an elegant spiral, its base thick and sturdy but curling upward like a slow-moving river frozen in time. Its form bent toward the sky as if seeking something it had lost.

At the very top, nestled within the curvature of its branches, was something rare—a cocoon-like teardrop, a natural cradle formed by the tree itself. The spiral of the trunk led to this suspended sanctuary, where the branches branched out in wide, sweeping arcs, creating a woven canopy of leaves and buds that shimmered in the sunlight like molten gold in the autumn months, only to fade to silver in the winter's hush.

Each season left its mark on the tree, but none more than autumn.

Autumn, the season of longing. The time of change. The quiet in-between.

It was during those months that Demeter stayed closest to the tree.

In the early years, before the tree had taken its full form, she had simply tended to it as she would any beloved plant—watering its roots, whispering to its branches. But as the decades rolled into centuries, it became more than just a tree.

It became a ritual. A sanctuary. A place where mother and daughter could exist together, untouched by the passing of time.

When Persephone was aboveground, they spent their days beneath its shade.

Some days, the young goddess would weave crowns of flowers with the nymphs as they sat beneath the twisting trunk. Demeter would sit at her daughter's feet, Persephone's fingers deftly working through her long hair—dark as fertile soil—braiding it with delicate strands of wheat and olive twigs.

On warmer evenings, Persephone would sing songs with the dryads, their voices carrying through the rustling leaves, as the two of them cared for the tree together. They would lay beneath the tree's spiraling form, speaking of old memories and new hopes, their words winding between the roots as if the tree itself were listening.

But when Persephone was gone—when autumn deepened into winter—Demeter cared for the tree alone.

She would run her fingers over its rough bark, tracing the familiar twists and turns, whispering to it as though it could somehow carry her words to the Underworld.

She would sit beneath it in the evenings, singing soft lullabies to the empty air, filling the silence with a mother's longing.

She would press her forehead against its trunk, closing her eyes, feeling the pulse of life within it—the life she and Persephone had nurtured together.

The tree never withered, never failed to bloom again. But in the colder months, its cocoon-like top would tighten, its branches drawing inward, as though curling in on itself to endure the absence.

It was as if the tree mourned with her.

Demeter had always noticed this—how the mythical tree responded to the seasons as if it, too, longed for something lost. In the winter, its buds would seal themselves away, wrapped tightly like sleeping seeds. In the spring, it would unfurl once more, stretching toward the sky with renewed life. And in the autumn, just before Persephone was called back to the Underworld, it would always tremble slightly, its spiraling trunk seeming to waver—as if bracing itself.

But this time, something different happened.

It was the morning after the first deep autumn frost. A crisp, golden dawn stretched across the sky, casting long shadows over the sacred grove.

Demeter sat beneath the tree's twisted trunk, her voice weaving through the rustling leaves as she sang softly—a song of longing, of missing someone who was too far away.

She didn't expect an answer.

Then the ground trembled.

At first, it was just a small shift beneath her feet, like a sigh escaping the earth. But then it grew—a deep, rhythmic pulse, as if something buried within the roots had awakened. Loose leaves trembled, the grass quivered, and birds from the nearby trees scattered into the sky in a flurry of startled wings.

Demeter's breath caught. Her first instinct was to rise, her divine senses flaring—was it an omen? A shift in the balance of seasons? A threat?

But before she could act, she felt it—the pulse of life, raw and undeniable, radiating from the tree's core.

Then, the tree moved.

The great spiral shuddered, a slow, creaking groan filling the air as the branches at the very top began to unfurl. The cocoon-like cradle—sealed for centuries—peeled away in delicate layers, like petals of a blooming flower.

Demeter could only watch, her hands hovering in the air, her breath caught between fear and wonder.

And then—

A small, fragile coo echoed through the grove.

It was soft, almost lost beneath the rustling of leaves. A sound not of the wind, not of the earth, but of something new.

The last of the cocoon's spiraling layers peeled away, revealing a figure curled within—tiny, wrapped in vines and petals that shimmered like early morning dew.

You.

You were small, your form delicate, yet undeniably human in shape. Your skin, soft like the inside of a freshly bloomed flower, was tinged with the faintest hues of autumn—warm undertones of amber, traces of deep russet curling along the edges of your fingertips.

Petals crowned your head like a newborn's first wisps of hair, their colors shifting subtly as they caught the light. Vines wove gently around your arms and legs, not restricting, but cradling, like remnants of a protective cocoon not yet willing to release you fully.

Demeter took a step forward, hesitant, yet drawn to you in a way she couldn't explain.

The nymphs and dryads, sensing the shift, had begun to gather. They emerged from the surrounding trees, peering between the branches, their wide, curious eyes reflecting the newborn light.

"Ohhh," one of the younger nymphs gasped, clasping her hands together, "A dendrite!"

Another nymph knelt beside you, her fingers hovering just above your shoulder. "He's beautiful," she murmured, voice filled with awe. "Look how delicate he is! A gift from the land itself!"

A dryad, older and wiser, observed you carefully. "He is unlike any tree spirit I've seen before," she mused, tilting her head as she traced the way the vines curled around your limbs, as if reluctant to let go. "But there is no doubt—he belongs to the earth."

The nymphs cooed in delight, reaching forward to gently brush your petals, to whisper sweet words of welcome.

But you didn't react.

You didn't giggle or cry, didn't reach for warmth or pull away in shyness. Instead, you simply watched.

Your eyes, still adjusting to the world, were deep and strangely aware, as if you had been observing long before you had even been born.

You blinked, taking in the figures around you—their eager, delighted faces, the way their hands moved, the sound of their voices.

But you felt no urge to respond.

You only absorbed.

Demeter, watching this, felt something stir in her chest.

Dendrites were born from the land, silent and enduring, their essence brimming with emotion. Yet you... you were different. Too quiet, almost.

Still, she couldn't deny what she felt—the connection, the certainty.

Her heart, so often heavy with longing, softened.

She stepped forward, and with careful hands, she lifted you from the cradle of vines. The moment she held you close, she felt it—something deep, something old.

You weren't just any spirit.

You were born from something more.

A gift from the land. A gift from her.

And so, she named you.

A name whispered like the first autumn wind. A name shaped with longing, with sorrow, with love. "____."

You nestled into her arms, your body warm against the lingering chill of morning.

The nymphs continued to whisper around you, their delight filling the grove, believing you to be a child of the earth, a young tree spirit given form by Demeter's lingering emotions.

And so, they welcomed you as one of their own.

But later that evening—when the golden hues of autumn bled into twilight—something changed.

It was subtle, almost imperceptible.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, as the leaves whispered in the cooling breeze, you shifted.

The nymphs, once so quick to chatter, felt it first. They paused mid-laughter, their eyes flickering toward you, as if sensing something just beyond their reach.

Demeter, holding you close, felt it too.

It wasn't power. Not some divine force shaking the heavens.

It was simply... a feeling.

The air around you thickened, tinged with a quiet melancholy. The wind slowed, the trees shivered—not in fear, but in recognition.

And for the first time, your gaze—so passive, so still—shifted toward the falling leaves.

You watched them descend, slow and soundless, drifting to the earth like fading memories.

And for a fleeting moment, the air felt heavier.

As if autumn itself had exhaled.

And from that breath, you began to change.

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Born from the unbreakable bond between a mother and daughter, your existence weaves together the warmth of Demeter's care and the longing of Persephone's heart. Each season shapes you as you grow, whispering secrets of the earth in a rhythm you're just beginning to understand.

As the cycles of nature sway around you, and you come into your own, feeling the pull of the seasons and the call of something deeper, you start to wonder:

Are you merely a creation of divine will, or is there a path of your own waiting to be discovered?

≿━━༺❀༻━━≾

⌜𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐞!𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐭!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐕𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬!𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐂 𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐅𝐢𝐜⌟

∞

╭─↬ ❗𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆❗ ↫─╮
There will be mentions/descriptive scenes of the following:

╭ ⁞ ❏. N/A

🔺 Reader Discretion Advised.

Lol, I don't know if I got them all, so if you see anything I didn't list, come back and comment right here so I can add them to the list later ➡

Also, before you start, if you're new here, welcome! But if you're a returning reader/came from my other books, hi winxies🥹❤️ Enjoy (•͈˽•͈)

A/N: hey, winxies! 🌟 first off, thank you so much for deciding to give 𝐂𝐘𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐄, 𝐂𝐘𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 a shot. i know this is just the first chapter, but Iireally hope it was enough to hook you and keep you curious about what's to come! honestly, i didn't want to make this too long—mainly because i've started so many stories that ended up shelved because i didn't know how to wrap them up. (relatable, right? 😅)

that's why i came up with the one-shot idea for this universe! it lets me explore different stories and scenarios while keeping things manageable and fresh. i'm so excited about the possibilities, and i hope you'll be just as excited to send in your requests! want to see the MC in a specific situation or interacting with a certain character? let me know—i'm already hyped to start crafting those one-shots. 😄

thank you again for starting this journey with me. can't wait to see where it takes us! (p.s. i know i said i'd post it all at once, but  it's like 4am where i'm at so imma just post the first part and the rest when i get up)