Persephone twisted the delicate silver chain around her pinky finger. She attempted to use it to tie up her white hair from where the locks kissed the ground but, as always, the chain was just short.
That's right. She thought to herself, not for hair, but for binding. Forlornly, she looked from where the chain was unbreakably wrapped around her pale ankle to where it kept her bound to the caravan which she now stood beside. Sometimes it was easy for Persephone to get drawn in by the chain's magic and forget that that magic was used to keep her from freedom.
Tonight the chain drew her in more than usual as she stood amidst the bustling night market. She always loved magic, it called to her - but even moreso tonight, as this market was in the nonmagical village of Henrietta, and the only magic to be found here was the objects that surrounded Persephone. She vaguely recalled that her captor expected her to sell these objects, but Persephone never could keep her mind in one place.
At that moment, her captor tugged harshly on the chain to capture Persephone's attention.
"I'm going to get a drink," Piper Greenmantle huffed, seemingly annoyed at Persephone's very presence, as usual, "Make sure you sell all this stuff. Or don't. Whatever. These idiots never see magic, they'll eat it up." And with that Piper's figure disappeared into the night's crowd.
As Persephone watched her leave, her attention was caught by a small boy standing away, under the shadow of an old oak tree. He leaned against the edge of the wall that separated the village from beyond, from Cabeswater, Persephone's home, and a land of magic. Persephone could see the longing in the young boy's eyes, as his mind drifted beyond the mindless chatter and bustling crowds of the world of Henrietta.
Underfed, Persephone thought, looking at his boney body that made him look years younger than he likely was.
Underloved, she thought, looking at the aching in his blue eyes as he gazed out at the world beyond this village.
"IDIOT BOY!" A large man appeared beside the boy, the scent of whiskey on his breathe clear even from where Persephone stood. The man grabbed the young boy by the scruff of his neck, throwing him bodily to the ground. "Get up, boy. Quit mooning." The boy obeyed, scrambling to his feet, his eyes downcast.
Does he not realize that the boy is magic? For years she had been kept a captive, away from her magical home, yet still Persephone could not understand how easily these people overlooked the magic that was right before them.
With a final scoff at his son, the man headed back into the crowd, following in the steps of Piper, back towards the bar.
With a final longing gaze beyond the wall, the young boy began to walk back into the market.
"Excuse me," Persephone whispered as the boy passed. He turned, fixing his blue eyes on her. As he gazed at her, the caravan, and the chain that bound her, his eyes widened. Smiling gently, Persephone waved the child closer. As he approached, she reached deep into the yellow caravan and felt around until her hand touched what she was looking for.
She kneeled down before him and held out the large black candle.
"I believe that this is yours." But the boy just continued to gaze in wonder at Persephone.
"No, ma'am, I'm sorry, but that-that's not mine. I have no money to give you for it." He had a strong accent, which Persephone's distantly decided she liked.
"No money. It's already yours, or it will be. Or rather has been." She lifted his small hand and wrapped it around the candle. "Time is not a line." The boy held the candle close to his chest as though it's black was that of a baby raven.
"I think the candle is meant to help you find him," Persephone told him.
"Find who?"
"Your true love."