This Cold Year ― Percy Jackson & Annabeth Chase²

―xvii. the song of naomi sakura

NAOMI OPENED HER EYES TO THE UNDERWORLD. None of her companions were with her, so she could only guess that Hera had sent them back to Camp Half-Blood.

But why had she sent Naomi here?

Before Naomi could even take a step, her mother appeared.

"Mom," she breathed. She was torn between relief at seeing her mother again after months of silence and worry over what the meeting meant.

Worry won as she took in her mother's somber expression.

"What's wrong?" Naomi asked. "What—what am I doing down here? Why—"

"It's alright, Naomi," her mother said, but her tone wasn't convincing. It was quiet, just as somber as her expression. "Everything's alright."

"Mom, it's not that I'm not happy to see you, but... why am I down here?" Naomi asked. "I—I need to get back to camp, to fill Chiron and Annabeth in on the quest, to keep looking for Percy—"

"Your companions will fill them in," Persephone promised. "And as for Percy..."

Naomi's heart stopped. "He's not—he can't be—"

"He isn't down here," Persephone reassured her, and Naomi felt her heart restart. "Kore, we... we need to talk."

Naomi blinked. "Is... is this really a good time? With everything going on, I can't—"

"There is no good time for this," Persephone murmured. "But I... I've kept you in the dark too long. I wish I could have planned this better, but... you need to know. Now."

Naomi took a step toward her mother. "Mom, you're scaring me. What's going on?"

Persephone's expression was tight, her eyes just a little too shiny. "I need to tell you about your father."

To say Naomi was startled would be a drastic understatement. "Wha—now? Two years of asking, and now you want to talk about him?"

"Please, Naomi." Persephone held out her hands. "Just... go with me on this."

Naomi looked down at her mother's hands, then back at her face. With slight hesitation, she placed her hands in her mother's, and in an instant, they were somewhere else.

❈

Naomi and her mother stood in a living room.

Persephone held a newborn to her chest, and a man so like Naomi it made her head hurt knelt beside them. She had seen a picture of her father, before, but this—it felt strangely like looking into a mirror. Their hair, their eyes, the splash of freckles across both their noses, the smile... the resemblance was uncanny. 

Both of their expressions were ones of untamed awe, their focus on the sleeping baby cradled in Persephone's arms. It was as if they were flowers turned toward the sun, as if that baby was the only sight they cared to see. 

Naomi swallowed hard, looking at her mother. "That... that's me, isn't it?"

Her mother nodded. "An hour after you were born," she murmured. "We were so happy."

"She's beautiful," Ben whispered, drawing Naomi's attention back to the memory—her mother's memory. "Just look at her."

"I don't think I'll ever be able to look away," the Persephone in this memory confessed, blinking away tears. Her smile was enough to erase winter and usher in an infinity of spring. "What will we name her?"

"We could name her Lily," Naomi's father suggested, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Like the daylilies from when we first met."

Persephone laughed quietly. It sounded like a lullaby—soft and sweet. "No, I don't think so," she said. "Something else. Something... fierce."