Page 8 of The Survivors (The Children of the Sun God #4)

Persephone

“What we want and what is best for us rarely coincide.”

I defied the Fates. I turned my back on Helios’ gift. It cost me everyone I’ve ever loved and everything I’ve ever owned.

Breaking ties with Ciara was the biggest mistake. She was my anchor. The voice that steadied me when the chaos within threatened to unravel me. I can still hear her words, “Don’t leave, Persephone. The labyrinth may be confining, but it’s home. Ioannis can’t hurt you with the protection of the herd.” I didn’t listen. I thought I knew better.

I entered a world I knew so little of without anyone’s assistance, foolishly believing determination would be enough. It’s not uncommon for heifers to marry human men, but they do so with their family’s blessing. They wait for a proposal, for the rituals and ceremonies to bind two lives together. But I... I walked away from it all. I wanted freedom, or at least what I thought was freedom.

No one warned me that freedom could be a cage of its own.

I foolishly thought I could find a job without human identification or an address. The labyrinth had always provided everything I needed, and I never questioned how the outside world worked. How could I have been so na?ve? No one told me what it took to survive on my own. Perhaps they assumed I’d never leave, or that my bond with Ioannis would hold me fast. That I would grow out of my “childish ways,” as Mitéra called my desires.

I should have gotten advice. Asked Ciara or one of the elders for their wisdom. But my pride refused to let me. I wanted to prove I could do it alone and show that my choice was not a mistake. My pride didn’t allow me to take anything but my clothes with me. Not even my parents’ money, though they offered it with trembling hands and disappointment in their eyes.

I carry that moment with me every day. It’s heavier than the bag I took when I left.

A restaurant owner took pity on me after catching me digging in his dumpster for food one night after closing. Hunger is a cruel teacher. It strips away dignity and leaves behind only desperation. I was ready to cry, ready to scream at the stars for cursing me to this fate, but then José appeared with tired eyes and a voice that was firm yet not unkind.

He gave me a chance, though I hardly deserved it. I wash dishes in his kitchen now, scrubbing pots until my hands ache. “You’re not front of the house material,” he said that first night. I didn’t understand what he meant at the time. Now I do. The front of the house is where the polished and the beautiful go, where charm is currency. The back is for the rest of us—the hidden, the unremarkable, the broken.

I’d find that insulting if I didn’t labor under a mountain of regrets. At least I have work. At least I’m fed.

José took me to a shelter that first night. It’s where I sleep every evening if I can make it before all the beds are taken. It’s not home—not even close—but it’s shelter. Some nights, I lie awake listening to the murmurs of others like me, wondering how many of them made the same mistakes, and how many burned bridges they can never rebuild.

I’d go home and beg for my parents’ and Ioannis’ forgiveness if I could. Only I’ve never heard of Helios restoring a severed bond. Once broken, it’s gone forever. I can’t undo what I’ve done. I can’t take back the hurt I caused or the love I rejected. Ioannis’ face and quiet anguish haunts me. I told myself it was for the best. But was it truly fear of him—or fear of myself?

I don’t deserve his mercy or anyone else’s. I chose this life. It matters not that I didn’t know what I was choosing. Choices have consequences, and this is mine to bear.

Still, in my quietest moments, I wonder if the Fates are watching, spinning and cutting threads as they always do. I wonder if they laugh at me or pity me. Perhaps they already know how this ends.

But I don’t. Not yet. I’m not ready to give up.