PROLOGUE

HER STORY

Cobwebs tangle in her hair and brush against her face. It seems that no one has used this cottage for ages.

She walks inside, and dappled sunlight pours in through holes in the roof and wind blows recklessly in through the shattered windows. Dust coats the table where she used to eat dinner every night, retelling the day's events to her mother. Her made bed rests in the darkened corner, the sheets moth-eaten. Every time, she almost forgets what it is like to live in the sunlight of this valley, it was such a long time ago.

Every time she leaves the world below, she comes here and lies in the middle of the floor, watching as the sky fills with light, only to have it fade. Most mortals think that the sun rises in the east and sets in the west. That is true; but only two days out of the year: the Spring and Fall equinoxes. The months that she has with her mother�"her months. Every other day, the sun rises in a slightly different location; north or south of due east of every sunrise and the same with sunset, except in the west. Every day is so short; every minute is very precious.

She was Kore then; she is Persephone now.

This is the choice she made; this is her story.