I saw a glimpse of a little girl with platinum blond hair tied into pigtails running down the alleyway. I chased her onto the main street and tried to see where she went. Her form was translucent, and she passed through the people on the street quickly, unnoticed except as a warm breeze.
How am I going to tell my mother? This past year had been such a whirlwind of events that I hadn’t had the time or seen a clear enough path to approach her. Between the Titan attack, Dad’s coma, and then Mom being gone, then returning. What am I gonna say?
I unfolded a slip of paper and read the note that had been delivered to the house in the middle of the night. It had been signed with a monogram I had come to know as Melisseus’s signature. He was taunting me, trying to lure me out. Not this time. I had learned over the years that demons had many faces. Mine was Melisseus.
I do not cover my face. My tears are for them. I grieve for them. I mourn for them. The remorse I feel is like a weight that would pull a mortal soul to the very depths of Tartarus. I sob my apology.
