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I 019. I
𝑮𝒍𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑮𝒐𝒓𝒆
❝ cafe ❞
SHE BEGGED ON HER KNEES FOR THE GODS ABOVE TO KEEP HIM ALIVE. That was something she had done a few times after he went missing. No matter how much she disliked them, they were the only ones who could see where he was, and she needed that.
Ariadne reluctantly opened her eyes to see where she was.
A cold wasteland of ice and snow. There was nothing that stretched past the horizon, as if it continued on forever. Specks of bergs along with flurries of snowflakes blazed the colorless landscape.
There was no one else there, as if she was the only one alive. She shivered, even with her coat, it wasn't enough to keep her even slightly warm. She imagined her lips were a dark blue thanks to the freezing temperatures. Of course, there was no way this had to be real. There was no way she was blown all the way to Alaska.
But maybe it had happened.
Aeolus was the master of the winds, no matter how much he insisted he was a god. His powers could've surely blown each of her quest group to further corners of the nation, or even the earth.
Piper could be in the tropical jungles, Leo in the sandy desert, Jason in the middle of the ocean, and Hedge somewhere where he would end up being detained for clubbing people with his weapon out of his bloodlust. Nothing sounded good.
She somehow was in Alaska, alone.
Ariadne brushed a strand of hair from her eyes, but her eyebrows furrowed when there was no sight of the grey streak often present in her chocolate locks. Her hand searched and searched for a sign, coming up empty. So whoever she was wasn't real. Whatever had happened her body was somewhere while she was stuck in her own mind.
How ironic.
It could be worse, she supposed. At least she could possibly find her way out of the tragic weather, but even then she would have to find a way. Sometimes that was hard. Sometimes, a person's own mind won't let them escape, in fear of learning the cold truth that it was attempting to protect itself from.
Wind whipped through her hair, sending daggers of cold through her clothes, piercing her skin every second she kept walking. She had to keep moving, to keep herself warm.
It was a bland and lackluster sight for her. With every step, her foot seemed to be pulled to the ground, as if gravity was becoming her mortal enemy. She was afraid she would be pulled through and would never escape—that would be true terror for her.
She tugged her feet along the icy floor while keeping an eye out. Nothing caught her eye, minus the other shadow figure moving in her direction. It made her stop.
