━ ⭑─⭒━

━ ⭒─⭑━

Days passed, as it always did, and the weight of winter slowly began to lift.

The snow that once blanketed the world in cold silence began to retreat, dripping from the trees, pooling in the low valleys. The air shifted, no longer sharp and biting but softer, carrying with it the faint, earthy scent of new beginnings.

The first blades of green broke through the frosted ground, tiny and brave, while the rivers began to stir beneath the melting ice. Birds returned, their songs hesitant but hopeful, filling the once-silent sky with life.

Your body had changed again, growing taller, your limbs less delicate now and more defined, your features beginning to hint at the sharp elegance of adolescence. At 11 years old, you now resembled something closer to a young tree—still growing, still unshaped, but stronger, steadier.

The warmth of spring brought with it a subtle change in your demeanor. The quiet melancholy of winter softened, giving way to something curious, something alive.

And Demeter noticed.

She fussed over you more than ever, her watchful eye never straying far.

That morning, she had bathed your face with cool water, smoothing stray locks of hair with care. She had pressed sweet treats into your hands—honey-dipped figs, candied nuts—though you didn't need to eat.

"You'll need your strength today," she had said, her tone light, but her movements overly precise, her hands lingering longer than usual.

You hadn't asked why. You rarely did.

But now, as you sat beneath the twisting branches of your tree, you began to wonder.

The sun, bright and warm, filtered through the canopy, casting dappled light across your face. Your back rested against the smooth curve of the spiral trunk, your eyes closed as you let the new warmth sink into your skin.

For the first time in months, the world felt alive again.

And then—

Giggles. Whispers. The sound of movement.

Your eyes opened.

Beyond the edge of the grove, the spirits of the land—nymphs, dryads, tree spirits—moved about with an energy you hadn't seen all winter. Their voices were excited, their footsteps quick, their forms darting between trees and meadows.

You furrowed your brows, sitting up straighter, watching them with quiet curiosity.

It wasn't until she appeared that you understood their excitement.

Ciro bounded toward you, her bare feet light against the grass. She stopped just a few feet away, her hands on her hips, her grin as wide as ever. "Do you know what's happening?" she asked, her voice nearly a sing-song.

You shook your head, silent as always.

Her eyes sparkled, and she leaned in closer, lowering her voice like she was about to share a great secret.

"She's coming back. Persephone is returning from the Underworld."

You blinked.

Before you could fully process her words, the ground beneath you shuddered—not harshly, but enough to make the roots tremble, enough to send a ripple through the earth.

Ciro gasped, her excitement spilling into a delighted laugh. "It's time!" she exclaimed, grabbing your wrist with a firm but playful tug.

You didn't resist as she pulled you to your feet, guiding you through the grove, her steps quick and eager.

The meadow stretched wide before you, its grass dotted with the first wildflowers of the season. The air hummed with energy, filled with the quiet rustle of nature spirits who had gathered to witness her return.

Demeter stood at the center of the field, her golden robes flowing in the gentle breeze, her presence commanding yet soft. Her hands were folded in front of her, but her shoulders were tense, her gaze fixed on the ground just a few feet before her.

You slowed as you approached, watching the way the other spirits stood behind her, their movements stilled, their anticipation almost palpable.

And then—the earth cracked.

The ground split open, slowly at first, before spreading wide enough to form a dark, jagged fissure.

You flinched at the sight, your eyes narrowing as you watched. Figures began to rise from the depths, emerging from the shadows of the Underworld.

The first was a tall, broad figure wrapped in heavy, dark robes. His face was pale, his eyes sharp, like the glint of ice in deep winter. His presence felt like a weight pressing against the meadow, a cold contrast to the warmth of spring.

You paused, your breath catching in your throat as your eyes locked onto him, a low gasp escaping you. He felt... familiar.

A deep, almost forgotten memory stirred within you, resonating with the chill that emanated from his form. The recognition was not of the mind but of the soul, an instinctive pull towards a presence you had inexplicably known before.

Before you can ask Ciro who he was, the name whispered into your mind like a memory. Hades.

Behind him came others, figures shrouded in shadows and adorned in dark finery—attendants, guards, spirits of the Underworld who moved silently, their faces unreadable.

And then—

Her.

A smaller figure stepped forward, her form bathed in the soft glow of new light. Her hair, light as gold, flowed in loose waves over her shoulders, and her eyes—vivid and alive—seemed to reflect the very essence of spring.

Persephone.

You didn't know her, but something in her presence made the air feel warmer, lighter.

Before you could fully take her in, Demeter moved.

She surged forward, her steps quick and desperate, her arms reaching out. In an instant, she engulfed Persephone in a fierce, unrelenting embrace, her golden robes wrapping around the smaller figure as though trying to shield her from the world.

"My flower, my sweet girl, you're home," Demeter whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

Persephone smiled, her hands reaching up to hold her mother in return. "I'm home, Mother."

You stood still, watching the reunion, the warmth of it sinking into your chest like the first touch of sunlight after a long winter.

For the first time, you felt you were witnessing something... whole.

Something that had been missing, now returned.

The warmth of the reunion hung in the air, soft and tender, as Demeter held her daughter close, murmuring quiet words of love and relief. Around you, the nature spirits stood in reverent silence, their joy filling the meadow like the first bloom of spring.

But then—

A cold voice, low and steady, shattered the moment.

"Remember, Demeter," Hades said, his tone cutting through the air like a blade. "She is mine as well. When the first day of fall arrives, I will return for her."

The warmth in the meadow faltered, a chill creeping into the edges of the gathering as his words settled over them.

Demeter didn't turn away from her daughter, but her body stiffened, her embrace tightening around Persephone as if to shield her from his voice. Slowly, she lifted her gaze, her jaw clenched, her golden eyes cold and sharp as they locked onto his pale, unyielding form.

"Understood," she said, her voice low, steady, and full of restrained fury.

The dark god held her gaze for a moment longer, as if testing her resolve, before he turned away, his black robes flowing behind him like shadows made solid. His entourage followed, their silent figures descending into the fissure in the earth.

And then, as suddenly as it had opened, the crack in the ground sealed itself, leaving no trace of its presence.

The chill that had crept into the air began to lift, the warmth of spring reclaiming the space.

Demeter exhaled slowly, her shoulders relaxing slightly as the weight of Hades' presence faded. Then, with trembling hands, she engulfed Persephone in her arms once more.

"You're safe now," she whispered.

Persephone returned her mother's embrace, her own relief visible in the softness of her expression. But then, as if sensing something, she opened her eyes, her gaze drifting across the meadow.

Her eyes landed on you.

For a moment, she simply stared, her expression curious, almost puzzled. Then, she gently pulled back from Demeter as she tilted her head slightly.

"Mother," she began, her voice soft but inquisitive. "Is that... a new tree spirit?"

Demeter turned, her golden eyes following her daughter's gaze until they landed on you, standing silently at the edge of the meadow. Her stern expression softened, her shoulders lowering as a faint smile touched her lips.

"That," she said, her voice warmer now, "is ____."

Persephone blinked, her curiosity deepening. "____..." she repeated softly, testing the name on her tongue as she began to step forward.

Demeter followed, her hand resting gently on her daughter's arm as they made their way toward you.

As they approached, you straightened slightly, your gaze flickering between the two goddesses.

Demeter stopped a few steps away, her voice calm but carrying a quiet pride. "He was born from the tree—your tree. A gift from the land, nurtured by my love and... my longing for your return."

Persephone's lips parted slightly, her expression shifting from curiosity to something softer. Understanding.

She crouched before you, her movements slow and deliberate, her hands resting lightly on her knees. "Hello," she said, her voice gentle.

You didn't move, your gaze locked on hers. There was something about her presence—warm, inviting, alive.

She reached out, her hands cradling your face, her touch soft and careful. Her thumbs brushed against your cheeks as she studied you, her eyes tracing the delicate features of your face—the faint golden undertones of your skin, the way your hair shimmered like sunlight through autumn leaves.

But there was something different now.

Something new.

Her voice was a soft murmur as she spoke again. "You look like him... but also not."

Her words lingered in the air, but she did not explain them. Instead, she smiled, her expression brightening with something close to delight.

"What's your name?" she asked, though she already knew it.

For a moment, you hesitated. You had not spoken much since that day by the river. Words still felt strange on your tongue, heavy and unfamiliar.

But something about her made it easier.

"____," you said, your voice quiet but steady.

Her smile widened, her hands still cupping your face. "It suits you."

Her warmth seemed to sink into your skin, wrapping around you like sunlight. You didn't understand why, but something about her words, her touch, made your chest feel lighter.

"You're beautiful," she said softly, tilting her head as if admiring a delicate flower.

You blinked, your lips parting slightly, and for the first time, you felt something that wasn't just warmth or curiosity. Joy.

Her hands fell away, resting on her lap as she leaned back slightly, her gaze still on you.

"I can't wait to spend more time with you," she added, her tone playful yet sincere. "We're going to have so much fun, aren't we?"

Before you could respond, something stirred.

A soft rustling sound filled the air, and the nature spirits nearby gasped, their eyes widening.

Persephone tilted her head, her expression curious. "What's this?"

You felt it then—the gentle pull of energy running through you, surging.

From your hair, small blooms began to sprout, their petals delicate and vibrant, their colors shifting in the light—pink, yellow, white, green.

The nymphs gasped in delight, whispering among themselves.

Persephone's hands flew to her mouth, a small laugh escaping her. "Oh! Look at that—flowers!"

Demeter, standing just behind her, smiled, her eyes soft with pride. "It seems you've brought spring to him, my flower."

You reached up, touching one of the blooms gently, feeling its soft petals against your fingers.

In her presence, you felt different—lighter, warmer.

Persephone continued to study you, her gaze still curious but filled with affection. She didn't ask why you were different, didn't question the oddness of your existence.

She simply smiled and said, "You're perfect, ____."

And for the first time, as the warmth of spring settled into your chest, you believed it.

☆
✩
☆

The days that followed were unlike anything you'd known before. Persephone, as if drawn to you by some unspoken bond, spent nearly every moment at your side.

She was a constant source of light, her energy vibrant, her laughter contagious. She pulled you into the warmth of spring, showing you a world that felt alive in a way it hadn't before.

Every day was spent outdoors.

She taught you the names of the flowers blooming in the meadows and how to weave them into garlands that she draped over your shoulders.

She led you through the forests, her voice light as she sang songs that made the trees seem to sway with her melody.

At night, she would lie beside you beneath the stars, pointing out constellations and telling you stories about the gods and the heavens, her voice soft and full of wonder.

You followed her everywhere, watching, listening, absorbing.

And for the first time, you felt alive.

You smiled more often now, laughed quietly at her jokes, and found joy in the simplest things—the feel of grass beneath your feet, the sound of rivers flowing freely once again, the way the sunlight filtered through the trees.

But with Persephone back, Demeter's protectiveness seemed to double.

She was never far, her golden eyes watchful, her hands lingering on your shoulders or your back whenever she passed you.

Even when Persephone coaxed you into games or adventures, Demeter's presence was always there—a shadow of worry, a quiet reminder of her fear.

She called you back earlier from the meadows, insisting you eat, rest, or stay close to the cottage.

She fussed over Persephone in the same way, smoothing her hair, pressing her hands to her cheeks as if to reassure herself she was truly there.

But with you, it was different. Her grip on you felt tighter, her watchfulness sharper. It was as though she feared that if she blinked, you might vanish.

You didn't protest. You never had.

But you felt it—the restlessness building inside you.

The world around you was bursting with life—flowers blooming, rivers flowing, the air warm and endless.

And yet, you felt bound.

Demeter's protectiveness, once comforting, now felt like a cage. Every time her gaze lingered too long or her hand pulled you back, you felt the ache of something unnamed inside you.

You didn't know what it was.

You didn't understand why the world beyond the fields seemed to call to you, why the wind brushing through the trees made your chest feel tight, or why the stars above felt like they were whispering secrets you couldn't hear.

But you allowed it.

You allowed her worry, her commands, her presence. You stayed within the boundaries she set.

Because you loved her.

Because you knew, in some quiet part of yourself, that her fear wasn't just about you. It was about something she had already lost.

But that didn't stop the feeling.

The restlessness.

The sense that you were bound to something you didn't understand.

.☆.
    .✩.
       .☆.

Persephone sat beneath the shade of a flowering dogwood, her nymphs gathered around her in their usual lively chatter. She was absentmindedly braiding flower stems into a garland, her fingers quick and nimble, but her golden eyes weren't focused on her task.

Instead, she watched as you and Demeter walked further into the meadow, your figures growing smaller and smaller.

Demeter had insisted you help her tend to the fields, reviving the growth of crops that had been dormant through winter. The goddess always kept you close when there was work to be done, her protectiveness never wavering.

Persephone tilted her head slightly, her gaze lingering on you as you walked beside her mother. You looked so different now.

When she had first arrived, you had been small and delicate, your features soft with the youth of spring. But now, as the sun shone down on you, she could see the changes that had taken place in just a few short weeks.

You looked to be about 14 years old now. Your limbs were longer, your features sharper, more defined. The faint glow of your skin seemed richer, deeper, and your hair had grown fuller, the blooms within it brighter, more vibrant.

For a goddess, time was a fluid thing—days felt like moments, and seasons passed like breaths. But even so, she couldn't ignore how quickly you seemed to be maturing.

Her fingers stilled in their braiding as the thought struck her.

"How fast do tree spirits normally mature?" she asked aloud, her tone light but curious.

The nymphs, startled from their chatter, glanced at her. One of them, a soft-spoken dryad with mossy green hair, tilted her head thoughtfully.

"It depends on the tree," she said. "Some grow quickly, others take their time. Why do you ask, Lady Persephone? Are you thinking of making more tree spirits?"

Persephone smiled faintly, shaking her head. "No, I was just wondering."

Another nymph, this one with golden curls and mischievous eyes, leaned closer, a teasing grin spreading across her face. "Is it about ____?"

Persephone blinked, her expression briefly stunned. "W-What? No!"

The nymphs burst into soft laughter, the golden-haired one clapping her hands lightly. "It's always about ____ lately! You can't hide it, my lady. You're as curious about him as we are."

The others giggled in agreement, their voices overlapping as they began to share stories.

"When he was born," the moss-haired dryad began, "he didn't smile or cry. He just... watched. He was so quiet, it was almost eerie."

"Remember when we tried to make him laugh by throwing leaves in the air?" the golden-haired nymph added. "He just sat there, staring at us. It was like he didn't even understand what laughter was."

Another nymph hummed thoughtfully, twirling a strand of her hair. "He's still not like the others. He doesn't play or chatter. Even when he smiles now, it's... different."

"But he's maturing quickly," the dryad noted. "If he keeps this pace, he might be fully grown by the first day of fall."

The golden-haired nymph's grin returned. "Maybe Demeter's keeping a closer eye on him because she knows he's not a typical tree spirit."

Their laughter quieted as Persephone listened, her fingers resuming their braiding but at a slower pace.

They were right.

You weren't like the other spirits. From the moment she had met you, she had felt it—the subtle but unmistakable difference in the way you moved, the way you watched the world, the way the earth itself seemed to respond to you.

Her golden eyes softened as she glanced back toward the meadow, though you and Demeter were long