I might not have seen it, but even after more than a decade, that sound was firmly trapped in my memories. To the thudding of it striking the sand after severing my mother's head from her body. A moment later, the cane sliced through the air, the sound always so similar to the memory of my father's axe. I leaned over the drawing, smiling down at it. In just a few minutes, I'd have to tuck the sketch away from prying eyes. I dropped my pencil to the page, heaving out a sigh as I leaned forward and draped myself over my desk. With her white hair and fair skin, the lighting seemed to make her sparkle. He was bathed in darkness, hidden in the shadows with only light eyes and the subtle features of his fierce snarl peeking down at the lightness of Persephone. Touching the side of my palm to the page, I smudged the lines until I was happy with the way the shading blended together. Lifting my left hand up from the page, I studied the wisps of smoke floating around Hades' beautiful face. My pencil scratched at the page carefully, methodically outlining the details of the narcissus flowers woven into Persephone's hair.
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