This Is Stella's Reality

July 28, 2015 PT 2

The dusk had settled; the air was quiet and still with only the gentle roll of waves hitting my ears. The full moon showed her pretty face overhead, and the pinpoints of stars seemed to kiss the horizon.

I walked through the thickest parts of the island's forest. Trees wavered around me, as if sensing my trembling heart. The grass was lush beneath my feet, soft and comforting as I walked barefoot over my island.

A shrouded cloak kept me hidden in the shades. The Olympians could not see me. Nobody could. My draughts were strong and my magic stronger.

When I knelt beside a tree, I could feel the fear in myself. It gleamed like water. Hope rose through me only to be drowned by terror.

Drink to remember.

Overhead, the branches of willows rustled. Constellations dipped and wheeled with the passage of the night.

For three years, I had lived with only the previous day building upon the next. But now I was here. I was the daughter of Hades and Persephone. Let me have her memories too.

I lifted the phial to my lips and drank.

The visions blossomed, vivid as the break of dawn over the ocean waves and the silver moon staring down at me.

My echoing childhood laughter ripping through the black corridors of Hades' House. Servants rushing after me as I haphazardly used my budding magic to cause chaos through the halls.

Persephone singing me soft lullabies as she carried my dozing body through the flower fields. My mind, half awake, would reach for the soft petals and smile when I ripped one from its stem.

As I grew older, and my magic flourished, teacher upond teacher would be replaced, afraid of my abilities and the pace at which they grew. Soon, only Hecate herself was left to teach me.

She terrified yet fascinated me. Pale and ghostly. Her eyes were dead, unmoving yet everwatching.

Hounds followed her every move, howling through the shadows of the Underworld that seemed to bend with her presence. They were not really dogs. She told me once they were the manifestations of restless souls and demons.

We burned yew boughs on funeral pyres. Brewed poisons and potions of every kind. She taught me the names and uses of every herb on earth. Aconite, belladonna, dittany.

Her House laid at the entrance of the Underworld. Hecate's Grove, it was called. She was my mother's closest friend. Her most trusted confidant.

In turn, Hecate was my godmother. She raised me as her own, guiding the ebb and flow of the black magic in my blood. Teaching me all she knew of the world, both mortal and Olympian.

I saw my journey to Olympus. My father was having a quarrel with Hermes. I was sent to fetch him. To force that weasel god to do his damn job.

Being the diligent daughter I was, I had gone happily. The Underworld was dark, and Olympus was quite the opposite. I was always glad to have an excuse to walk amongst those white fountains and bright walkways.

The path to Hermes' House was long. Winding up steps and through floral gardens. It was then I heard him.

Eros was calling for me. We had met before. He was an arrogant god, mischievous and irritating with his boastful pride. He was forceful and often did not take no for an answer.

My steps quickened, and my heart raced. Hermes House was not far. I could make it. But I tripped, and his arms wrapped around me.

I squirmed to get away from him, nearly using my magic to fling him back, but before I could, I was being flung. Aphrodite's spiteful eyes were glaring daggers into my skull as her white magic hit my face.