My fingers tremble as I tear the envelope open, an uneasy feeling curling in my stomach. I suddenly remember the Greek myth Hayes’s father told us about Pandora’s jar.
Pandora was the first woman, given a sealed container full of the world’s evils and warned never to open it. But curiosity got the better of her, and the moment she lifted the lid, all the suffering, disease, and hardships of life escaped into the world. I wonder if this is what she felt right before she opened it. Whatever I find inside—good or bad—there’s no undoingit afterward.
Still, even knowing I might regret it, I dive in anyway.
The first thing I see is a small 4x6 photo tucked into the corner of the envelope. A man in his late twenties. Handsome. Thick black hair, the longest lashes I’ve ever seen, and a grin like he doesn’t have a care in the world. He’s standing in front of the Laguna Hills pier, head thrown back mid-laugh.
He looks like me.
I know instantly—this is my father.
Mom always said she didn’t have any pictures of him. She claimed he hated cameras, and that since they never married, there were no engagement shots. No wedding photos.
Clearly, that was a lie.
But what really surprises me is how normal he looks. How… happy. He doesn’t look like someone who’d abandon the woman he supposedly loved or their two baby girls.
I flip the photo over. Scrawled on the back is his full name—Sonar Delios—and a date around seventeen years ago. The picture must have been taken right before he left.
A weird flutter rises in my chest. After all these years, I finally know my father’s last name. Mom would never tell us. I think she was always too afraid we’d try to find him—or worse, try to find his family.
Delios.
It sounds Greek. Does that mean I’m part Greek too?
I can’t wait to tell Hayes. He’sgoing to love this.
Beneath the photo is a slim stack of letters, bound with a gold ribbon. Each one is written in my mother’s hand and addressed to my father. No stamps. No return address.
They were never sent.
I open the first one carefully. The paper is soft and yellowed at the edges, the date marked just a few months after Amber was born. My stomach twists as I begin to read.
My Dearest Sonar,
I know there’s nowhere to send these letters, but I needed to write you anyway. Maybe somehow, wherever you are, you’ll feel the words. I miss you. Every single day.
More than anything, I wish you could see our girls. Alysander and Ambrosia are happy and healthy. They grow bigger, and bolder, by the day. Alysander is already stringing together sentences and little Ambrosia has started crawling. They have your spark. They’re so special, just like you said they’d be.
You’d be proud.
But, my love, it’s been nearly a year since you left, returning home to that awful place I still can’t bring myself to name out loud. You told me to watch for the signs. And to be careful. I’ve made the girls their amulets, like youinstructed. Kept the protection stones under their pillows. I’ve stayed alert for hellhounds… for Watchers… for any Olympian emissaries.
But there’s nothing.
I can’t help but wonder if it’s safe now. If maybe it’s time for you to come back to us.
I hate the thought of you trapped there all alone, sacrificing your life for us, if the danger has passed. I know you believe this is the only way to keep us safe, but… what if it isn’t true?
Please, Sonar. Come home. Our daughters need you. I need you.
Yours forever,
Mel
I continue on to the next letter, reading with a growing mixture of fascination and horror. This one is dated a few years later.
My Dearest Sonar,
