Page 42 of Hekate: The Witch (Goddesses of the Underworld #1)

‘What Will I Do Now?’

I begged her to give me answers that a part of me knew she could not possibly have.

But grief was a cruel, selfish thing. It wounded the one who carried it so deeply, that when others saw them, they only saw the wound.

And that was all I was now. A wound. A motherless thing.

A child grieving without even knowing what grief was.

The question hung in the air. Styx simply held me in her cold arms, her wet hair against my body, but in my numbness I could not even feel the cold.

She did not say a word; instead, just let me sob.

For how was Styx to know how to comfort a child who had lost the only parent they had ever known?

We sat like that for hours, her holding me close, this dreaded river that even the Gods were afraid of tenderly consoling a grieving child.

Finally, when my tears had stopped from exhaustion, I heard her say, ‘I promised your mother I would keep you safe, Hekate.’