Scorpio Season is upon us.

The time of year when the veil thins, when darkness rules over light, and the world is commanded to confront the things it tries to bury. That is exactly the energy that Persephone—the Maiden turned Monarch—embodies: the energy of death and rebirth. The truth of trauma and transformation, along with the resulting empowerment.

Let’s rewind for a minute, though—I need to preface this particular tale with a bit from my own.

Since this piece is heavily focused on the intense energy of Pluto (the planet and the God of the Underworld), we respect the Roman lineage. However, to ensure maximum familiarity and clarity for most readers, we will be mixing the Roman and Greek names based on common recognition.

The key takeaway is that the characters are the same. We are using the name most often associated with the figure.

Look, I’m not saying I peaked in third grade, but there was this one Halloween where every kid in my elementary school had to dress up as a mythological figure. The choices ranged from the obvious to the utterly boring, but I bypassed the whole Jupiter/Aphrodite/Hercules show and went straight for Persephone. She was always my homegirl.

I was maybe eight. Did I know, in any meaningful depth, the dark, devastating truth of the goddess who got abducted and subsequently ate the seeds of her own sovereignty? Hell no. TBH, I probably just liked the sound of the name. And being both a princess and a queen is badass as fuck.

Once I got older and became acquainted with my own cosmic blueprint (aka, natal chart), that pull towards Persephone started to make perfect, terrifying sense.

Here's a quick overview of what that means: at birth, the planets fall into a zodiac sign, and astrology believes these signs correlate with specific themes and archetypes, essentially baking that energy into us.

For me, at the moment I was born, the Sun was in Scorpio. And so was Mercury. And so was Venus. And yes, the heavy-hitter himself, Pluto, was also in Scorpio (very much at home and right where he belongs) as is the case with all us millennials.

Scorpio was also rising over the eastern horizon the moment I took my first breath at 4:48 am, which makes me a Scorpio Rising (Ascendant).

I embody this Scorpionic / Plutonian energy. I am a living archetype of that intense, passionate, crisis-burdened, psychologically literate, driven, transformative power. The trade-off is this: if you bear the cross—if you not just survive, but embrace the crisis and the pain—you have to feel the depths of grief, stigma, and sorrow. But then you get to feel the elation and euphoria of the highs. You have to use the darkness to create light. Then you get to heal yourself and others. And you get the gift of the power of Pluto.

Hey, pros and cons, right?! Anyway...

It turns out, Persephone wasn't just a costume; she was a foreshadowing. She was my soul-level anthem.

She is the ultimate mirror for someone with so much Plutonian or Scorpionic energy. Her journey is not about surviving a kidnapping; it’s about radical self-possession achieved in spite of, and in fact, through trauma. It’s about the resilience required to look at the darkest, most terrifying corner of existence and say, "I'll take the throne here."

She is death and rebirth, power, and the integration of uncomfortable truths. She is the ability to descend into the abyss for half her existence and emerge not as a victim, but as a motherfucking monarch. When she rises, she brings life back to the earth; when she descends, she administers justice to the dead. She’s the boss of transformation, and she got there by eating the seeds of her own fate.

Persephone is the patron saint of anyone who knows the immense, uncomfortable power of radical self-acceptance. To get a real understanding of the power this archetype holds, let's dig into the myth behind the Maiden. From her POV.

My name was Persephone—"the Maiden." I was the sun-drenched daughter of Demeter, Goddess of the Harvest. Yup, all that golden grain... and those endless summer days... That was my childhood. Pretty much ideal. We were a duo, Mom and me. My father, Jupiter, was too busy with all his ruling and abductions to notice us.

The narrative was simple: I was pretty, I was sheltered, and I picked flowers. That’s the official story, the one everyone knows. But the truth? It’s always darker, always more complex and nuanced.

Look, this was always going to be my story. My mother, bless her fierce heart, tried to keep me in a perpetual state of Virgo season—pure, orderly, endlessly productive. But you don't have a father like Jupiter and expect a quiet life.

So here's how it went down. I was on my morning flower-pick route when the hole opened up. Then, there he was. Pluto. My fucking uncle. He burst through the bedrock in a chariot that smelled permanently of sulfur and existential dread. A crime? Absolutely. Let’s call it what it is: a high-stakes, premeditated kidnapping. I was ripped from the light and taken to the Underworld.

In an instant, childhood innocence turned to... this. Down here? It's the land of shadow and truth. No more hiding behind a floral motif. And you know what surprised me more than it will surprise you? I fucking dig it! Pluto isn't the monster everyone paints him as. He's the ultimate Capricorn placement: disciplined, reserved, and ruling a whole domain by himself. Lonely. Not a bad man; just lonely and completely misunderstood.

I had to come alllllll the way down here to realize the heights that life brings us to up there. The Underworld is authentic. Nobody feels like frolicking and flower picking every single god damn day. Some days I feel like wallowing in sorrow. There's nothing wrong with that. It’s tasting the bitter that makes the sweet taste oh so sweet. I knew, with every fiber of my being, that I could never go back to being just the Maiden permanently.

Up on the surface, Demeter was throwing the ultimate temper tantrum—famine, drought, total planetary meltdown. She just wanted her baby girl back. That smiling, compliant Maiden. But Persephone was already dead. She was buried under the weight of this new reality.

The crisis of the barren Earth finally forced the Olympian men into action. Mercury, the messenger, shows up with Dad’s decree, a late-game attempt at damage control. He was like— ”Listen Bro, (Pluto is his brother, remember) You gotta let her come back up to the surface or this whole thing will collapse and neither of us will have anything to rule anymore.” Dad's word is the ultimate word.

But while the men were negotiating power, I was making my move.

This is the thing everyone always wants to talk about: the pomegranate seeds. Six little seeds. Six tiny, blood-red jewels of commitment.

I should explain the rules of the ancient world. You share a meal, you share a life. That's how we vow commitment. And so, by eating the food of the Underworld, I bound myself to it. I merged with it.

For the record, Pluto had nothing to do with the seeds. I was the mastermind behind that beauty, thank you very much. I was fully aware of the “consequences” and I made the fully informed decision to merge completely with Pluto and the Underworld and on my own. My husband didn't trick me into anything. He didn't have to force me or trick me into staying. I had seen the authentic truth of reality and I wanted more.

I ate those seeds. This wasn't a trick; it was a choice. My choice. It meant that Jupiter’s decree could not force a full-time return. My transformation was complete. I was now tethered to the underground. I made myself the Queen.

So, the deal was struck. Six months down here, six months up top. The cosmic negotiation of a goddess who finally found her own power, balancing the love for her mother with the sovereignty of her throne.

When I leave, Demeter grieves. The earth freezes. That’s her mourning her daughter. When I return, she finds joy again. Spring bursts forth.

But for me? This cycle is my purpose. I am no longer defined by a single environment or a single relationship.

I am the bridge.

I’m the one who goes into the void and brings back the wisdom. I know what it’s like to live in the light and to rule in the dark. I embody the cyclical nature of death and rebirth.

I am the Queen of the Underworld. My truth is not found in endless sunshine, but in the power I claim by embracing the shadows. I descend so that the world can learn how to bloom again. The abduction was the inciting incident, a trauma, a true crime. But my return? That’s the legacy. I chose the throne, and every year, the earth stops breathing until I make my way back up. They wait for me.

That, my friend, is real power.