Page 62 of Blood of Olympus

She believed she was incapable of wielding her powers over life.

He reminded her that she had once believed that about her powers over death.

She believed she was only going to lead the realms into ruin.

He told her that the Fates have decreed otherwise so why should she believe any different?

By the time he was done, her tears had vanished, replaced by a steady resolve humming beneath her breastbone which echoed beneath mine — and I had woven the reeds into a completed ring, intricately entwined, just like our threads of fate.

The ring gave me an idea.

Two, actually.

Growing in patches along the shore were long-stemmed plants with leaves shaped like arrowheads, and white, triple-petalled flowers. I’d discarded a handful of them after learning that their stems weren’t so easily woven together. But they could be useful for something else.

Reaching over, I plucked a dying flower from the pile at my feet and squished it in my clenched fist. The petals bruised and tore, and the slight scent of grapefruit now coated the skin of my palm.

“What about this?” I called, approaching her with a tentative smile, and held out my hand in offering.

Nyssa cupped her hand beneath mine, catching the pulverised plant with a frown. “I don’t understand,” she said, the wrinkle between her brows deepening. “What am I supposed to do with a very sad looking Katniss flower?”

“Heal it. Bring it back to life.”

Her face shuttered. “Caelus, I can’t.”

“Nyssa,” Charon interrupted from somewhere between us and the lake. “If you can bring this solid lump of a god back from the dead, I know you can do it with a tiny flower.”

“Hey,” I scowled.

But it was worth the smile that graced her lips. I would endure far more for far less reward.

“I’ll try,” she said, more to herself than to us.

She raised her palm, eyeing the flower like it had personally offended her, and — nothing.

“Ugh!” Nyssa roared a minute later, loud enough to startle some nearby waterbird, and clenched her own fist around the flower.

She began pacing again.

“What were you thinking when you saved me?” I asked her quietly.

She stumbled mid-step, her cheeks flushing copper when she finally met my gaze. “What do you mean?”

“I mean: what specifically did you think of? How did you do it?”

She hesitated a heartbeat before answering. “I remember pouring everything into it.”

“Into what?”

“Into the link that I could feel fraying more and more every second,” she whispered. Her eyes glazed over, lost to the memory. “I poured every ounce of my power into trying to drag you back. Everything I had, even if it meant I followed you into the next place... And when my darkest powers were exhausted, I found a small pocket of lighter energy right at the bottom — like a pebble at the bottom of a deep well. So, I threw that in, too... And I think that pebble is what brought you back.” Her eyes cleared, latching onto mine once more. “That pocket… it felt different. Brighter. Weightless. Full of possibility.”

I cleared my throat, nudging the overflowing emotion back down. “Then that’s what you have to find.”

She huffed an exasperated breath.

“He’s right, Nyss,” Charon added. “You can’t keep throwing all of your power — or all of yourself — at everything all of the time. You’ll burn out.

“Find where they deviate. Look for the lightness within yourself.”