True Blue ✷ Leo Valdez.

24 : Hecate.

    BLAIRE SULLIVAN WAS DEAD. The daughter of Hecate had bled out onto the trembling hands of a boy she'd only just began to consider a friend. She'd been impaled through the stomach by a non-tangible curse that had been sent by an unknown source, obviously aiming to kill her.

  Blaire was dead— which is why she didn't understand the circumstances of her whereabouts—or, her mental whereabouts. It didn't make any sense whatsoever.

She had died, so why was she in her quaint childhood apartment?

  It was empty, devoid of any life. Something about the small space didn't seem quite right. The radiant aura she remembered it emitting was gone, instead the scarce space seemed so dim and dull. Not at all like she'd recalled.

A thousand pounds of dread nestled itself low into the acidic pits of Blaire's stomach, making itself a home as she looked over the familiar apartment.

She didn't know what she expected, or why she was back in her childhood home, but then again she knew nothing about death or what happened after. Maybe this was her own personal hell. A demented version of the undeworld perhaps.

The apartment that once felt so grand and special now seemed quite opposite. It once filled her with a secure sense of hope and comfort, embracing her in a bout of warmth. However, then it made her frown. Something wasn't right, she thought.

And she was correct; something wasn't right. This was made evident when an unfamiliar woman shimmered into veiw, frowning wistfully as if all she ever knew of was misfortune and tragedy.

The woman looked wrong standing amidst the rundown living room in all her glory. Her auburn hair cascaded in waves down the front of her deep purple cloak, and her sharp features were pulled taut with disappointment. She didn't seem to be very old, but she also radiated wisdom and melancholy that was very clearly millenniums old. Her eyes, which were a startling shade of ruby, gleamed with heady emotion.

She radiated a sort of power that made Blaire want to kneel at her feet, but she fought the urge upon realizing exactly who this woman located before her was.

  Hecate.

  Her mother who had been absent for the past sixteen years.

Her mother who had the power to rearrange constellations if she wished yet refused to use any of this aforementioned power to help Blaire as she lost everything she'd ever cared for.

As if reading her mind, the godess took a weary step forward. "I'm sorry."

"Mo— Hecate."

   She wouldn't refer to the goddess as her mother so long as she could help it. Becasue weren't mothers supposed to guide their children and provide them with a helping hand no matter what? Weren't mothers supposed to show their children unconditional love and support through both thick and thin?

  Hecate had never done that. She didn't deserve the maternal title. In fact, she didn't deserve any title besides the cruel one that was her official Olympian name.

It had been an entire sixteen years and this was the first time Hecate even thought to contact her daughter. After she was dead. Great parenting.

The goddess looked upset, more upset than Blaire who had just died. She was frowning as if she were the one who had just bled out onto an innocent boy's hands.

"Why am I here?" Blaire managed, speaking only one of the seemingly million thoughts on her mind. There was so much she wanted to say, she didn't even know where to start.

"Blaire, you must understand, I wanted to see you. They wouldn't allow it," Hecate told her, her voice practically pleading. Begging the young girl to understand— or at least attempt to understand.