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Melinoë slowly opened her eyes. She was lying beside the dark mirror in her brother’s room, trying to remember at least something. She clearly remembered giving him their father’s improved spear so Zagreus could kill Chronos, but… why was she still here, lying on the dirty floor? Why had nothing changed? Had something happened to her brother in the past?
The young witch almost managed to stand on her trembling legs when she suddenly collapsed again, screaming and clutching her head. She was breathing fast, desperately trying to focus her eyes on anything at all. Foreign memories began to force their way into her mind, stabbing her with unbearable pain.
How she, as a child, played with Chronos.
How her mother sang to her while sitting on Cerberus.
How Lady Nyx picked out her outfits.
How Zagreus and Achilles taught her to use the sickles.
How she watched her brother and grandfather play a chess.
All of it felt so wrong—and yet as if she had lived through it herself.
Melinoë screamed again, squeezing her head tighter, pulling her hair as if pain could drown out the torment in her mind. She had no idea what was happening. Shaking, she looked around the room, which had been intact just a minute ago. Or was that yesterday? Or another set of someone else’s memories? Or… were these the real memories, and the others the false ones?
Everything twisted into an incomprehensible mess. One moment Hecate was training her to exhaustion, the next moment the scene changed—her mother was showing her garden and teaching her about herbs. Then Selene was demonstrating a spell; then her brother was shielding her after she’d gotten herself into trouble. Then everything shifted again—Hecate arguing with Artemis about Melinoë, and then another jump, and she was listening to her grandfather telling stories of the Titan era.
The girl bit her lip until it bled, suppressing another scream of agony. She tried to calm her beating heart and take in the torrent of information. Her mind was chaos incarnate. She simply could not understand which memories were real and which were not. She needed to ask someone.
Her grandfather.
Her mentor.
Her father.
The Lunar Sisters.
Lady Nyx.
Anyone… please… someone help her understand what is happening to her!?
She pressed her forehead to the floor, hitting it as her breath came in frantic bursts. She had to get up and go. She had to get up, walk out, and see Chronos’s corpse. To see that she had finally fulfilled her destiny. To look into the eyes of the tyrant who deserved the cruelest death in all existence. The one who had taken everything precious from her.
Then Melinoë blinked rapidly as tears blurred her vision.
No, no, no—let grandfather be alive. Let her brother not have harmed him.
She had promised to protect the Titan of Time with her own life.
Oh Chaos, let her not be the cause of his death. Let him be safe, let her brother not have done anything yet.
Melinoë sobbed again and shook as she closed her eyes. What was even happening anymore? What was real and what was a comforting illusion? Just a moment ago she had been discussing Zagreus’s latest mischief with Nyx in his room—and now she was sitting in this same room, destroyed, in a world swallowed by chaos and brutal war.
The young witch felt panic suffocating her, her breath growing shallow. All thoughts dissolved into deafening cacophony. She could not tell what truth remained. Selene’s words about humans being vain, foul parasites; Zagreus telling her that gods and humans were not so different; Nemesis scolding her harshly for resting at the wrong moment; Meg giving her a break when she collapsed from exhaustion; Hecate calling Chronos the worst being in existence—and Chronos gently reading her tales of Heracles before bed.
And worst of all, she didn’t even know where she was supposed to go once her mind cleared enough for her to stand.
To the Crossroads, where she had lived one life and where the Lunar Sisters waited?
Or to the House of Hades, where she had lived another life and where her family waited for her?
She remembered the protection she had in her father’s home—the love, the indulgence, the safety, the absence of burdens. But she also knew she had to return to the Crossroads. She had duties. She had a destiny. What would her mentor say, who was somehow both close to her and a stranger?
Where was she supposed to go after all this?
What was truth and what was a lie?
Who was her enemy now, and who was her ally?
What was she supposed to do?
The girl collapsed onto the floor, breathing hoarsely. Her eyes saw nothing through tears and lack of air. She tried to stand again, but her shaking body refused to obey. Melinoë blinked one last time and, unable to endure any longer, fell into merciful unconsciousness.