Page 18 of Curse the Flame

The way she says that… I get the vibe that she doesn’t mean, like, cosplaying or something like that. But what can she mean?

What the heck is going on here?

She uses her free hand to gesture at her chest. “I am Cassandra.”

Cassandra. If we’re going with this is some sort of Greek mythology-inspired world—which, yeah, cyclops—then I know exactly who she’s pretending to be. Cassandra, the princess of Troy who was cursed by Apollo to see the future, though no one would ever believe what she prophesied.

Well. She did say she foresaw me coming…

Okay. Okay. If it wasn’t for that cyclops guy, and how he reminds me of what happened in The Odyssey when Odysseus faced off with Polyphemus, I’d immediately tell this Cassandra—this witch with freaking fire in her hand—that she has to be messing with me. There’s a pocket of Ancient Greece on the other side of the mirror that came with my condo? That… that just doesn’t make sense.

Then again, they say seeing is believing. And I saw that cyclops. I saw the flowers that bloomed beneath my bare feet. I see the fire and the banked rage in her eyes that, the more I look at her, the more I can’t deny is there. Though, to be fair, if my fate was destined to be like Cassandra’s, I’d be pretty pissed off, too.

Maybe she needs a friend. I definitely need someone who knows what’s going on here.

So I offer her a friendly smile rather than telling her that this… all of this… can’t be possible.

Magic, right? That’s what she said.

Do you believe in magic?

I definitely do now.

“I’m Willow.”

Cassandra shakes her head. “You’re Persephone.”

That’s a new one. “Um. No. I’m Willow Ackerly.”

“Your mortal soul might be. But the goddess you carry around with you… you are Persephone, and it’s about time you returned to the Other.”

I open my mouth to tell her that I at least know who I am when, suddenly, the same musical, feminine voice from earlier fills my head again.

I’m sorry. I’ve been so distracted, returning to Olympus. Have I forgotten to introduce myself? I am Persephone, goddess of spring. It’s so good to finally be awake and able to go on this quest with you, Willow.

I grit my teeth. The alternative is to shriek in fright, and since I know it’s rude to scream in the face of someone I just met—especially when she’s holding fire in her hand, can’t forget that—I swallow it back.

Cassandra gives me a knowing look. “I’ve seen that expression before. I’ve made it myself the first time I understood that, as much as I was once Poppy, I was now Cassandra, with all the history that comes with it. Persephone said ‘hello’?”

I nod weakly.

“Good. The sooner you understand who you are, the sooner you can do what you came here to do.”

What’s a nice way of saying that I was concerned for Sir and only followed him through the mirror because I felt bad for the pup?

I… I didn’t come here to do anything. Even if there is someone talking to me from inside my chest, inside my head… that doesn’t mean I am Persephone.

I can’t be⁠—

Ah, but you are. You always have been. If you doubt it, touch the dirt. You bring spring everywhere you go now, and that’s because you finally awakened me.

Welp. There’s no denying that. I don’t even have to touch the dirt. All I have to do is look behind me and see the flowers that have started to bloom in my wake even with my slippers on.

Seeing is believing, and being in denial won’t help anyone. Might as well just go with it.

“Okay. I guess I’m Persephone. That’s swell. Only… I’d like to be Persephone back in New Jersey, if I can. So… can you tell me how to get home?”

“Yes.”