Hestia led Persephone to a huge raised platform where gods and goddesses had already gathered in the front. Behind the platform multiple plain tents had been constructed. They stood out from the splendor that oozed from every section of Olympus.

Persephone and Hestia made their way to one of the smallest tents. Hestia held aside the front flap, and Persephone passed into the tent's darkened depths. Inside, the torches suspended in mid-air allowed Persephone a good look at the tent's other occupant.

The god raised the goblet he held, and a coppery red liquid sloshed out and over his fingers. He pressed his free hand to his full lips and giggled. A strange light brightened his purple eyes.

Persephone didn't want to be alone with him. She'd met a few unhinged creatures in her time, but this god was worse than all of them combined.

"What did I say?" Hestia demanded as she stepped around Persephone.

"This is a different wine," the god responded, his voice dark and threatening as thunderclouds. It was at such odds with his delicate, feminine features.

Hestia grabbed the goblet, unfazed by the horrible glare the god pinned her with. She tossed it into the air, and it disappeared the next instant; no wine spilled. That done, she gestured for Persephone to stand beside the god.

Persephone was reluctant to do so but didn't argue.

The god eyed Persephone. After a moment, he pushed the few strands of his long, ivy-covered hair out of his face. "Persephone, right?"

Persephone nodded.

A strange, hysterical laugh escaped the god. His face didn't change expression, though.

Persephone's apprehension grew to an earth-shattering height. She stepped back.

"I'm another of Zeus' bastards. Dionysus is the name my mother saddled me with."

"I..." Persephone swallowed.

"Enough small talk. We have little time before you face the Fates," Hestia said. She gestured for Persephone resume her spot beside Dionysus.

With stone feet, Persephone complied.

Hestia stared at the two younger gods for a long moment and then began. "I'll guide both of you to the stage beyond the tents. The Fates will be waiting. Both of you will stand before the Fates, your backs to the crowd." Hestia nodded at Dionysus. "As the oldest they'll start with you."

Dionysus nudged Persephone. "I'll get the better Purpose, you'll see."

"The Fates will mark each of you," Hestia said a little too loudly, "before announcing your Purpose."

"That's all?" Persephone asked.

It couldn't be. Nothing as monumental as receiving a Purpose could be so uncomplicated.

Hestia chuckled. "The ease of this upcoming event is deceptive."

"Will it hurt?"

Dionysus leered at Persephone. "Pain can be fun. Want me to teach you?"

Hestia stepped closer to Persephone and took the focus away from Dionysus. She shot him a look cold enough to freeze Hephaestus' forges before saying to Persephone, "You might feel out of sorts once it's finished, but that won't last long."

Persephone swallowed hard and tried to ignore the obnoxious humming Dionysus had started. "Sounds—That's fine."

Hestia took Persephone's hand. "You'll do marvelous."

A quick glance at Dionysus told Persephone her aunt wouldn't say the same for him.

"I—"

The music that had swelled through the city stopped.

Hestia squeezed Persephone's fingers and nodded at Dionysus. "It's time."

None of the thousandths of audience members spoke as Persephone and Dionysus mounted the stage. Their lack of noise and the intense expressions Persephone saw when she risked a glance at the crowd weakened her knees.

Could they all know who Persephone was? Did they laugh at her for being another one of Zeus' mistakes? How many of the spectators hated her because of her lineage?

These questions weighed on Persephone, seeming to cling to the bottom of her peplos. She could hardly follow Hestia and Dionysus to the center of the stage where three white-haired goddesses in identical blue-black peploi that rippled with moving star constellations stood.

But Persephone didn't lose her footing. She couldn't imagine the mortification she'd suffer if she fell.

Once by the Fates, Hestia kissed Persephone's cheek and offered Dionysus a lukewarm farewell. Then she left.

Before the Fates for the first time, Persephone absorbed every detail of the stoic, identical goddesses. Their round, expressionless faces had a dewy quality to it that almost distracted from the translucency of their skin.

Underneath their skin, their delicate golden veins twisted and pulled into intricate designs that unraveled moments later. The sight was captivating, beautiful and horrible in equal parts.

The middle Fate cupped Dionysus' head in her hands.

His breath caught and the ruddy color faded from his cheeks. He tried to make a carefree quip, but then the other two Fates touched Dionysus and studied him as hard as their sister. His words came out as a meek whisper that almost made Persephone laugh.

After a long moment of gazing at Dionysus, the Fates placed their right thumbs against the young god's forehead. A glow formed where they touched him.

"From this day forward," the Fates intoned, and their harsh, light voices carried over the crowd though Persephone couldn't understand how, "Dionysus, one of many sons of Zeus, you will be known as God of Madness."

The Fates dropped their hands from Dionysus, and he wobbled in place.

Then Dionysus shook his head and the dreamy look he'd been wearing disappeared. He blew kisses to the crowd as he ran toward the end of the stage, where he dived into the crowd.

Cheering and laughter greeted him, but Persephone couldn't tell if anyone attempted to catch Dionysus or if he plummeted to the ground.

Distracted, Persephone didn't notice the Fates until they were a breath's length away from her. Like they had with Dionysus, they gazed at her just before they pressed their thumbs to her head.

Warmth spread from the skin contact and flooded through every part of Persephone's body. She was reminded of long summer days spent watching the sky while lying in a field; body warmed from the sun. Absolute calm overcame her.

"From this day forth," the Fates said, "Persephone, a daughter of Zeus, you will be known as Goddess of Spring."

A sense of completeness, of rightness, filled Persephone then, and she was almost sad when the Fates withdrew their thumbs and took it with them. She expected them to back away from her, but they stayed in place.

They must be waiting for her to walk off the stage.

Persephone turned to leave.

"Stop," came the Fates' voices.

Persephone faced them a second time. "W-What?"

The middle Fate leaned in close enough that Persephone could hear the next words she spoke but not enough that would draw attention. For good measure, her sisters shifted so that Persephone and the third Fate were partially hidden from view.

"What's wrought in bitter desire and unashamed envy will always suffer."

The Fate's words wrapped around Persephone and settled into her flesh; made bumps rise. They burrowed, becoming bone-deep before Persephone had clearly heard them.

Still, the words sought deeper.

Somehow, Persephone knew their destination was her spirit, and once there, they'd change her. They'd —

Unlock. That's what they were, a key to a secret self Persephone hadn't been aware of until now.

Was this how getting a Purpose worked?

Had Dionysus been whispered these same words and experienced this same moment?

But, no, the Fates hadn't had any more to do with him once they announced his Purpose. How they were acting was just toward Persephone. She'd garnered their special attention.

The Fate's words hit their mark.

The oddest sensation filled Persephone, more meaningful and reality-altering than when she'd been assigned her Purpose. A higher sense of self-awareness came to her, almost like she'd been asleep her whole life until this moment and she'd woken up.

This was who she truly was, whatever that meant.

"The suffering is only a tool to mold the greatness beneath the surface," Persephone said; the words flowing from this unfamiliar part of her.

With them came a sense of confused repetition. She'd said this very thing many times in her youth, but that couldn't be right.

She'd never uttered that phrase before today.

A small smile flitted across the Fate's lips. "The greatness you will find."

"What—?"

All three Fates walked away without another word.

Persephone watched them go, slack-jawed on stage for all on Olympus to mock. Harsh twittering tried to draw her focus, but she couldn't care less what the other gods and goddesses thought.

Let them have their fun. What were they but weak forces that couldn't stand to the might of —

The ridiculous thought slammed to a halt. Persephone could have laughed at herself.

Now that she had a Purpose, she believed herself an unstoppable well of power?

Was she showing traits she'd inherited from her father, and the first one that manifested was a massive ego?

Persephone's shook her head.

No, she was just feeling off because of the ceremony. All the oddness with the Fates was just that, oddness. She couldn't read more into it.

What had happened wasn't intended to harm her. Maybe it was just meant to make it easier for her to work alongside Demeter.

A heavy sigh escaped Persephone as she trailed off the stage.

To be the entity of spring sounded incredible (and daunting in its importance), but she'd been hoping for a Purpose that wouldn't give her mother an excuse to keep her near. Her Purpose would allow her to explore the world, but only if Demeter let her.

It didn't matter that they were both full-fledged goddesses. Her mother was an Olympian and one of the most powerful beings in existence. If Demeter didn't want her daughter to do something, Persephone had no way to stop her.

Like before, few beings milled around the back of the stage.

Persephone had half-expected Demeter to be waiting there, ready to gush about all she had planned for them. She wasn't disappointed to be left alone, at least for the time being. She had a lot to shift through.

As Persephone cleared the nondescript tents, a figure appeared before her.

She opened her mouth to snap at her mother but swallowed her pertinence when she realized who the goddess was that had almost run into her.

"M-My Queen," Persephone squeaked and then remembered to bow.

It took everything in her to do it, though. From the look Hera was watching her with, Persephone knew it was unwise to take her eyes off the God Queen.

Hera stood taller, and despite her swollen midsection, was as threatening as all the sea monsters in existence. Icy fury radiated from her sharp, sculpted features. The peacock feathers woven into her curled black hair enriched Hera's beauty while enhancing her dangerous edge.

Stiff, demanding fingers grabbed Persephone's chin and tilted her head up.

Now, Persephone had no choice but to hold the God Queen's stare. She fought the urge to squirm but knowing Hera could kill her with a single flex of her hand didn't give comfort.

"You aren't beautiful," she said, her tone slurred. She sounded like Dionysus should have before The Deciding.

Persephone swallowed.

Was she supposed to respond?

Hera rested a hand on her rounded stomach. "My daughter will be everything Demeter wanted you to be."

The jab was pathetic, yet still smarted.

Persephone had never craved her father's attention like she had seen the mortals without fathers did. One overbearing parent was enough, but she still wanted Zeus to notice her. If he could make her, the least he could do is acknowledge her existence.

But, from what Hermes had explained over the years, Zeus rarely took notice of the bastards he produced. Zeus claimed it was to keep the children safe (from Hera), but Hermes didn't think that was the reason. He theorized the only child Zeus loved was Athena, and the rest of his ilk would never compare to her.

It would probably be the same for the godling Hera carried (neither of their previous children had Zeus' favor), but only the Fates could know for sure.

What if Hera was right and the new daughter was as perfect as Demeter had hoped Persephone would be? How would that make her feel?

Just like all the rest of Zeus' bastards, a small voice within Persephone said.

It both saddened and comforted her. At least in that misery, she wouldn't be alone.

Hera tightened her hold on Persephone's chin.

Persephone didn't cry out. The God Queen was already enraged, and Persephone couldn't risk driving her fury higher.

"I could ensure it, though," Hera mused like she was discussing what peplos to wear. She nodded to herself. "Yes, that could work. Demeter wouldn't be much trouble. Besides, it's not like daughters are scarce."

Hearing her murder so causally discussed stripped away Persephone's fear.

How dare this pathetic goddess think she could do away with her?

Persephone wasn't the nymph of the day who'd drawn Zeus' unwanted affection. She was powerful, more powerful than —

Had she been about to think she was stronger than Zeus?

Persephone almost chuckled at the absurdity of it. The Goddess of Spring more powerful than the God King?

Ha.

In what delusion?

A hand as large as Persephone's head materialized from nowhere and wrenched away Hera's grasp.

As quick as a viper, the God Queen turned to the intruder, a snarl on her lips. Her venomous demeanor didn't change even as she realized it was her husband who'd intervened.

"Be gone!"

Zeus shook his head. "Leave her alone. You don't need the stress, not in your condition."

Hera got so close to her husband's face they could have been about to kiss, if not for the seething rage clinging to Hera like a cloak. She embodied the mortals' idea of a vengeful goddess, ready to do anything to fulfill her need for justice.

Zeus looked bored with her show of anger.

No wonder, Persephone thought. He must see it daily.

"You prefer her to your actual daughter," Hera said, pointing at Persephone.

"Can we not do this today? It's a day of celebration."

Hera laughed, a nasty, wretched sound that could give godlings night terrors for years. "Oh, yes, the products of your wandering paraded for all to see is such a celebration."

Zeus rolled his eyes. "I'm not discussing this now."

He pushed past his wife and took Persephone's arm. He hauled her away at a fast gait, led her around the stage.

Hera's cruel and hate-filled words followed them, but neither paid her any mind.

Zeus' grip was all consuming but gentle. Persephone could never dream of escaping his grasp. Just this simple gesture showed how weak she was in the grand scheme of the cosmos.

The longer Zeus' flesh touched hers, the stronger the sense of cold, disgusted loathing grew.

At first, Persephone had thought it was directed at Hera, but it didn't fade as she moved away from the God Queen. It rolled her stomach; made her think of nothing but clawing at Zeus' face.

How dare he touch her?

After all he'd put her through, he had some nerve to think he could muscle her into doing his bidding. The bare minimum he could do was apologize. Yet, he never once had in all her years of visiting him.

That strange thought drew Persephone from her rage.

Why would that come to her?

She'd never been to Olympus before today and hadn't seen Zeus before this moment. She hadn't even known he was her father until a few days ago.

It must be from The Deciding. All her nerves hadn't settled. She'd calm once she had the chance to test her Purpose.

Zeus let Persephone go (much to her relief) just before they reached the nearest path. His startling blue eyes rested on her, and she couldn't read what he thought.

"Did she hurt you?"

"No."

"She will, if you return."

He'd do nothing to stop his wife.

So, what if he lost a child he'd never spoken to until now?

Hermes had been right, only Athena (and maybe not even her) mattered to the God King. His pleasure was all that concerned him, be damned the consequences.

Right then, Persephone hated her father. She'd never hated before, not truly, but the feeling was undeniable.

It wouldn't break her heart not to visit Olympus again.

Persephone gave a curt nod. Then, without being dismissed and not caring, she turned on her heel and marched into the enormous crowd before her.