Narcissus Flower Persephone Novels & Stories

That faithful moment that changed her and her sister’s life forever. Rie dried her face using the towel hanging on her shoulder and then walked out of the bathroom. She weakly sat down on the bed. She no longer knew what was happening. Rie was still drinking tea made of flax seeds every night. Flax seed was one of the major ingredients for a sleeping potion.

“What does she look like?” “Um, Middle-Eastern or African descent, maybe? She had her hair wrapped in a headscarf and her sunglasses were really big, so it hid a lot of her face.” “Alright. They are in their rooms now?” “Yes, Alpha.” I sit and think for a moment. Who names their child Persephone? She was the queen of the underworld in Greek Mythology? Luckily, I have an expert to answer those sorts of things. “Musu, I need you to look something up for me,” I send her a mind link.

Life always followed them. The small bedroom at the back of the cottage was overflowing with blooms. White roses climbed the walls. Golden lilies crowded the windowsills. Wildflowers pushed through the cracks between the floorboards. The room seemed determined to burst with life, as though nature itself was fighting against what was about to happen. At the center of it all lay the girl. Demeter's heart clenched painfully. The girl looked exactly like Persephone. Not merely similar. Not enough to remind someone of her.

“I know, Nate. I know. But now, you have to fulfill the prophecy.” Tears stream down my face—I didn’t even realize I was crying until she wipes them away. “I love you, Nyx,” I whisper, kissing her once, softly. “I love you too.” Persephone presses a celestial bronze blade into my hand. The only thing that can kill a god. I’m shaking. My hands, my heart, my entire soul are splintering. “You have to do it, Nathan. Now.” Persephone wraps my fingers around the handle and moves my hand over Nyx’s heart.

In the Roman world the goddess was known as Proserpina. According to mythology, the first king of the Underworld, fell in love with beautiful Persephone when he saw her picking flowers one day in a meadow. The god then carried her off in his chariot to live with him in the dark Underworld. In some accounts, Zeus had given his consent to the abduction, the location of the crime being traditionally placed in either Sicily or Asia.

She suddenly wipe her tears due to too much laughing. "Look! We had a guest. She's the famous Artemis from olympus, right your dearest and most treasured best friend." She caressed artemis hair. Persephone hold her hand and twisted it. "Touch her you bitch and i'll send you again in the pit of hell." She's about to lift her hand when a car from behind them shout at them to move their car aside. "Πόρνη" Persephone last word before she passed out.

Of course I wanted his number then I replied, "What is your name?" I sat my phone down so I could dry off and get dressed. Then like clock work another ping from I*******m. He asked, "What is your name beautiful?" I began to blush then replied. "My name is Elisabeth Rose Freeman ,but everyone calls me Beth", I messaged back. He then replied, "Vladius Lee Sinclair, nice to meet you Beth". I then in return sent my number to him. I finished getting ready for the day. I was planning on cleaning up my dorm room.

“I’m really glad you picked me.” In the dream, the sun was always setting, bathing her in a warm, honey-like glow. She seemed delicate yet so strong in his embrace. “Zeke... I love the way your name sounds when I say it like this. I must be special since I’m the only one who calls you this way.” She had leaned closer, her hair carrying a scent of vanilla mixed with sweets. He felt like a protector, a hero, completely unaware that he was just an onlooker to her downfall.

It never occurred to me to ask. In the middle of the early, dark hours of my tenth birthday, Persephone came to me. She had tears in her eyes and she kept apologizing to me. Her eyes were swollen and red. She had been crying. I looked at her as a child would their mother they adore. My hand, wiping the tears from her cheeks. I was terribly confused. She pushed a pearl into my hand, telling me that once she had left me, I needed to place it on the ground and step on it, smashing it. As I did so I needed to think of something that made me happy. If I did this, I had a chance to save my life. If I did this, I wouldn’t truly become a doulos. A slave. My heart broke when she admitted what doulos

A woman leaned close to them, smiling softly as she smoothed my son’s hair. The boy was Eren, the child I had nearly given up half my life force to bring into the world. The woman was not me. I was Persephone, goddess of spring, queen of the Underworld, and Hades’s wife under every sacred law. Not long after, Nympha posted her own update on the social feed. In the illustration, my mother’s pomegranate brooch lay beside a small charm of laurel and asphodel, clumsily woven by a child’s hands. Beneath it, she wrote: