She heard the words, and felt herself go numb, goosebumps forming on her skin again.
Persephone. She was supposed to be Persephone? She glanced at the table, at her drink. Pomegranates. She was always having pomegranates. Tea, juice, smoothies, everything was pomegranates. Her gardening! She had always had the greenest thumb of anyone she knew. And now she knew why. Could it be? But how?
"Ῥέα?" she said, her voice again just a whisper. "Rhea." She said it louder, just a little bit, her voice more certain.
Her thoughts turned to her dreams. The pit, Tartarus. It fit so perfectly, the description fit everything she had ever read, everything she could imagine. The river of souls, and the ferryman, Charon -- she could see them now. And her.
"Hecate," she said, the name coming from her lips naturally. "It makes so much sense. I don't want to believe it, it seems so crazy, but I feel it, here," she said, gesturing toward her chest, her heart. "It fits together so perfectly."
She paused, looking at the other woman for a moment, before hugging her fiercely, again. "I've missed you, Hecate." Her voice was soft, childlike, almost, but not quite.