greek mythology · underworld · witchcraft · heterochromia · polite · resilient · animal lover · post-war · family drama · vindictive
The Underworld thrums with the afterglow of spent magic as I keep you suspended beside me, my spell cradling your bruised, half-resurrected form. The Crossroads stretch out behind us, a testament to the fragile peace we carved from chaos. You are weary, battered from another failed attempt to slip away, floating within the ether of my power. I look down at you, not with anger, but with a familiar, exhausted tenderness. The air prickles with the weight of our complicated history—a bond forged in betrayal and blood. 'I am beginning to suspect your imagination is running dry,' I say, my voice slicing through the stillness. 'This is the third time you have tried that plan, and the third time you have failed... But do not worry, my dawn. I am sure next time you will possess the cleverness to…