Persephone's Point of View
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The instant Professor Ophelia Hrisoverghi stepped through the door, I could feel the atmosphere shift. It was as though the very air had thickened around her presence, and everyone in the room seemed to instinctively recognize the power she carried. As a cyclop with more than three thousand years of experience, Ophelia had a way of commanding attention without even trying.
Her gaze locked on me immediately, and I knew this wasn't going to be a normal day. "That's my favorite student," she said, her voice laced with something I couldn't quite place—sarcasm, mockery, and a chilling kind of amusement all rolled into one. "I see that one time was enough for you to know your place near me, sweetheart," she added, her smile so cold it made my skin crawl. Her silver eyes glinted with something sharp, and for a split second, I felt like prey under her gaze.
Her words stirred something dark within me, a familiar unease that settled in the pit of my stomach. I couldn't help it; the last thing I wanted was to draw attention to myself, yet there I was, unable to escape her unrelenting gaze. I refused to meet her eyes. Instead, I focused on a spot on the floor, my heart hammering in my chest.
Apollo's voice cut through the thick silence, and I could feel his curiosity from behind me. "What does she mean?" he asked, his tone laced with confusion and concern. I heard him settle into his seat behind my girls, Atlas by his side. "Did she punish you? When?" He clearly didn't know what Ophelia was referring to, and for a moment, I considered just staying silent, letting the conversation die. But of course, the professor had other plans.
"Last year, she was being a smartarse," Ophelia said with a snide chuckle, her voice dripping with mockery. "So, I did something to her, but who would've guessed that she would react so… explosively to some of her past memories?" Her words sliced through the air, cold and indifferent, but I could hear the cruel amusement in her voice. "I mean, no kid should have memories like the ones she has. I would've gone..." She let the sentence hang in the air, her gaze flicking toward me with an unsettling smirk.
"Personal, professor," I managed to snap, my voice tense, teeth clenched. I could feel the anger welling up in me, fighting against the flood of memories I desperately tried to keep buried.
Ophelia's smile faltered for a brief second, but she quickly recovered, leaning forward as though savoring the discomfort she was causing. "Quite the traumatized kid you are," she mused, her eyes narrowing with something close to glee. "10. 15. I hope you don't go through any dark shit when you turn 20, child. You seem to have quite the karma with 0s and 5s, apparently." Her words felt like daggers aimed directly at my soul, digging into the very trauma I fought so hard to suppress.
I could feel my pulse quicken, the memories rising to the surface unbidden.
"When we were 15?" Atlas gasped, his voice full of shock and realization. "Is this about the mountain?"
The mention of that place—the mountain—was enough to freeze me in place. It was a place I'd sworn to never speak of again, a place that held too many memories of pain and loss. My throat tightened, and I could feel the blood drain from my face.
"It's about nothing," I bit back, forcing the words out through clenched teeth. "If you bring that bloody mountain up again, I'll cut out your tongue to see if it grows back, Atlas Vincent Bathory-Moreno," I hissed, my voice cold as ice, barely controlled.
Ophelia didn't seem to care about my threat; she just chuckled darkly, her amusement only growing. "Oh, yes. You keep it a secret," she continued, completely ignoring my warning. "Aye, you keep too many secrets, kid. It'll kill you, keeping all that inside. You should seek some therapy. Really, kid. You should go after some help to take care of that mental health of yours." Her voice was dripping with false concern now, and I could hear the patronizing tone beneath it. "Still throwing up at the simple mention of..." she trailed off, the implication hanging in the air like a weight I couldn't shake.
I could feel my fists clench at my sides, my nails digging into my palms as I fought to hold my composure. "Shall I take this comment of yours to the Headmasters, professor?" I finally shot back, my voice low and seething with anger. "Will you keep butting into personal affairs that have absolutely fucking nothing to do with you? Isn't it unethical to expose your students like this? What do you think you're doing right now, Professor?" My glare was like ice, burning with a rage that I couldn't suppress any longer. "Because if you keep this up, you might push the wrong button, and if you do, it won't be pleasant."
Her eyes rolled dramatically, but I could see the subtle shiver that ran down her spine. She swallowed, clearly not expecting such a confrontation. "I was just trying to help," she said, but there was a faint tremor in her voice, a crack in her otherwise steely demeanor.
"Then don't!" I nearly hissed, the venom in my voice sharper than I intended. The rage had been building inside me for days, and now it was spilling over uncontrollably.
From the back of the room, I heard Vain-Dove's voice purring softly, like silk but with a dangerous edge beneath it. "You shouldn't be so rude toward a professor."
I turned my gaze toward her, my eyes narrowing in contempt. "And your mother shouldn't have murdered mine. Seems like things aren't as they should be, huh?" I spat the words out like poison, every syllable laced with a bitterness so deep it felt like it could tear me apart.
Professor Ophelia's expression faltered, and she quickly cleared her throat, trying to regain some semblance of control. "She's not her mother, Persephone," she said, her voice steady but strained, as if she were trying to convince herself more than anyone else.
"It's like her mother only took one thing from me, professor," I retorted, my voice tight with barely restrained fury. "You saw my memories, didn't you? Shouldn't you know better than to get in the middle of my conflicts with the arch-demons?" I could feel my disgust rising like bile in my throat. "You know exactly who I'm talking about. Don't try to pretend you don't."
Ophelia froze at my words, her eyes flickering uneasily. She gulped loudly, the sound echoing in the room, and for a moment, the entire class seemed to hold its breath. "Vain-Dove is as innocent as they were, Persephone," she said, her voice now thin, brittle, almost desperate.
"We both know that's bullshit," I snapped, my voice dripping with disdain. "My siblings were unborn babies. They were as innocent as they come." I felt a surge of emotion, a mix of grief and rage that swirled inside me like a storm. "Eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, professor. I'll keep trying to kill the hybrid twins and their mom until the end. That's the blood debt the Queen owes me." I paused, staring down at my hands as if I could still feel the blood on them. "Though we both know she owes me way more than three lives."
"Revenge is not the way," Ophelia warned, her voice low, almost pleading. "You will pay evil with evil."
"I'm ready to sell my soul for that to happen if needed," I said coldly, a twisted smirk curling on my lips. The words felt like a vow, a promise to myself that I would stop at nothing to make her pay.
Behind me, Atlas's voice broke through, raw with emotion. "Only mom died," he exclaimed, his tone desperate. "Wrath-Grey died, and so did mom. It's enough, Dora. We are even."
"Even?" I scoffed bitterly, turning to face him. My voice was laced with venom, every word a sharpened blade aimed at his heart. "Even?" I repeated, my tone dripping with disdain. I could feel the anger flooding through me, the rage I had been holding back for so long finally boiling over. Almost everyone in the room flinched, and I could see the hurt and confusion in Atlas's eyes, but it only made me more ruthless.
My words were like daggers, and I didn't care who they hit.