He lost his heart. Shattered, torn apart by those who he loved... Those who he thought loved him. He gave up all hope of ever finding it again. Yet he did, but he would have never thought that he would have to go tens of thousands of years to the pa...
The location Persea teleports them to is the Montauk beach of the past. For the purpose of this story, at this time (in the past), instead of a beach, it used to be a cliff.
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Lì's POV
When the shadows parted, we stood on a narrow cliff, a few steps away from the edge, in the heavy rain. I held the umbrella over us but Persea slipped out from under its protection, walked towards the edge, and stood staring out at the sea stretched as far as the eye could see as the waters rose in big waves—crashing at her feet—in their attempt to get closer to her. I made no move to follow her and simply watched as she closed her eyes and lifted her face towards the falling drops, seeking the comfort of the waters that reached for her.
"It's my birthday today, you know." She said without looking at me, her voice small—barely a whisper—her eyes still fast shut. "And every year, I'd come here fifteen minutes from midnight and wait. And for the four years since I turned 17, my father would appear right here at this very spot to wish me. When I turned 17, he gifted me with my own throne in the palace so I never felt like I wasn't part of the family. When I turned 18, he allowed me to sit on his throne (in Olympus) without ever being rejected. When I turned 19, he presented me with a circlet that allowed me unlimited access to his domain (Aura). When I turned 20, he personally crafted me that umbrella. This exact day, this exact moment, at this very spot, and yet how things have changed."
I didn't say anything. I couldn't... I just listened. It was frustrating that it was all I could do. Listen as she pours out her heart to me. Or what was left of it after she was betrayed. Persea took a deep breath, tilted her face towards me, and slowly opened her sea-green eyes for a full minute before shutting her eyes and turning back toward the heavens.
That's all it took—1 minute, 60 seconds—to see it. The bottomless depths of sorrow that were no longer buried deep behind the sea green. Instead, they had clawed their way to the surface and shone as clear as day
Raw.
Vulnerable.
Exposed.
I recall that day in my room and all the signals my brain kept trying to send that something was wrong. It didn't click because she seemed normal, but I didn't realize until that day that I had associated the pain in her eyes with something normal. It was always there, swimming deep within, and I knew that. I had known that since the first time I saw her eyes. She had a lifetime's worth of pain inflicted on her but would smile like she was never bruised. That was one of the things I liked about her.
A melancholic melody rose from the falling rain and the crashing waves, filling the silence around us. Little sparks of light floated around her, from which a certain music seemed to resonate. Persea took a step closer to the edge—her eyes tightly shut, her hair sticking to her back, her hands held out to the rain—and parted her lips, letting the rain carry her song.
