"Oh, Ophelia, you've been on my mind, girl, like a drug..."
She was a flower caught in the frost, petals trembling against the weight of winter. He was the tide, relentless and deep, drawn forward by a force he couldn't name.
Their paths were meant to be cross-spring and sea, earth and water, life and storm. Fate is a cruel gardener, weaving roots through the cracks, letting vines curl around the edges of what was destined to be.
When Ophelia Meadows meets Percy Jackson, the ice begins to thaw. But with every bloom comes a flood, and when the snow melts, something must be left drowning.
"...Oh, Ophelia, heaven help a fool who falls in love."