Epitaph Empress
Author's Note: Ah! To write again! To rediscover my beautiful, beautiful muse! To not be punished by evil, evil university, interviews, forms, essays and coursework! Life is wonderful! And Christmas is here! Now, getting off that high for a moment, my apologies to those kept waiting for the next update (I hope the fact that this chapter is extra-long makes up for that) and my thanks to those who didn't spare me from a good prod when I deserved it. I hope to have more time to update this more often from now on, especially as the holidays are coming. On with the story - enter Hekate! Enjoy!
Epitaph Empress
Chapter XIII
Zeus had spoken. His command rang and thrashed throughout the heavens, roaring and rumbling like the most furious and brilliant of tempests. None could ignore his words.
"Here this, my brethren. It is my command and it shall be so that we must all search. Not one of us shall be spared. All will aid in searching for the Spring Maiden. No stone shall be unturned, no creature with eyes or ears unquestioned. No place will be too small or too insignificant to look. Our duties will come second to Persephone. We shall scour our kingdom and beyond. We shall use all our powers, all our servants. We shall inform our priests and priestesses, so humankind will know of our search. We shall tell of our quest to all wise animals, that they may also play a part. Persephone, daughter of Demeter, shall be found. Go."
And so it was. In a blaze of light, in a deluge of brightness, the Pantheon departed Olympus and spread out. First, Sicily had been thoroughly poured through. Then, the search spread to the kingdom of heavens, as the Gods fled across the great sky and divine lands, calling out to the missing child. Now, the search had reached the earth, the humanlands. The Pantheon rained down upon the earth, spreading their influence far and wide, calling assistance from all, covering the lands like a war, their desperation reaching outwards towards the lost goddess. All searched, scanning, tilling, toiling: they flurried across the earth, pouring over land, spilling across areas of enormous population to the quietest, remotest region Above.
All searched. All searched with frantic anxiety burning their hearts, none with a heart more frantic than that of the Lady of the Harvest, none with a heart so scorched with pain. All searched, and yet not a trace of young Persephone could be found. Not even a whisper of the name of one who may know what had befallen her was heard. The Daughter of Spring was lost and Demeter was thrust into a world of anguish.
* * * * *
The divine kingdom was empty. Empty of every divine presence, save one - one most divine. From the shadows and shades of the past present and future, she wove herself from intangible thoughts into the appearance of flesh. All around her was hushed as whispers of knowledge heaved out of the darkness with her. She watched, as was her destiny. To watch and to know.
To those with the wisdom (or perhaps foolishness) to look upon her unabashedly, she would at first appear to a shape as formless and sexless as the cold, dark moon. She was tall, imposing, casting a long dark shadow behind her that always rested upon the doomed. She was swathed in thick black robes, robes that appeared as heavy as knowledge, as stark as the truth, as grim as the future. These robes trailed to her feet, gathered at her shoulders and concealed her face beneath a dark cowl. It seemed impossible to discern whether or not this figure was old or young, male or female, weak or strong, pitiable or fearful. Until one looked harder. . .
Looking at her face beneath her hood, one could see nothingness. Her face was not there, in its place a semblance of a face that seemed made entirely out of a flat, black rock. It looked like a mask carved out of deep, polished onyx of the most penetrating black, a black that shimmered a pure white when touched by the light of the moon. It was a face without features, save one. Her eyes. At first, they appeared white and ghostly, like the eyes of one born blind. But these were eyes that saw all. If one dared look hard enough, they would see beyond the appearance of murky whiteness, clouds, deepening, greying clouds that held everything within them, all the wisdom of all worlds past and all worlds to come. Beneath the blind white was a dark splendour that held boundless knowledge and reflected a thousand fates. She was Hekate.
This was her form, and yet, it was not. When she became the maiden, the robes around her would shift in a slow, gnarled dance, concealing her utterly, and when they fell back into place, this time they would cling sensuously to a clearly feminine figure, diaphanously. The hood would reveal a face, no longer like dark, unfeeling stone, but warm, pale and fleshly, full of the beauty and freshness of the future. The cowl would fall back to release ebony black hair, flowing wilder than the waves. Her eyes, as wide as innocence, would darken to a thunderous, tempestuous grey- black, thick and heavy with wisdom beyond that of any mortal maiden. This was Hekate. This was the maiden.
This was also her form, and yet it too was not. When she deemed it that she should cast aside the knowledge of youth and take upon herself the knowledge of experience, yet again the robes would consume her with their blackness. Her face would age, ripen, mature, become lined with the passing of life, begin to sag with the shadows of the future, of the decline it must inevitably bring. Her robes, still dark and imperious upon a goddess reverberating with ancient knowledge, understanding and power, would cling to young flesh no more and now press against the stomach of a woman great with child. Her hair would begin to lose its youthful richness and begin to thicken and dry, and of course, become touched by thin slivers of age, threaded with grey. But in her eyes, still, lie power and wisdom, the wisdom to observe all in the present, to still look towards the solitary moon. This was Hekate. This was the mother.
Yet as always, this was her form, and yet it was not. Her eyes could dim, pale and appear glazed and weary with age, the benevolent knowledge within a mere spark that only the wisest of mortals could deserve to see within their perceptions. Her skin could wither, yellow and fold upon itself, twist into something lined and knobbly but wise and become home to a thousand scars of longevity. Her robes would shift, the child within her disappearing within the barrenness of age. Instead they now betray a gnarled lump of a woman; a small, twisted body, built by brittle bones. Her solid robes, looped and festooned down her form like a candle dripping wax, would cling to a frail, breakable body, a hunched back, her hood hiding a face bearing all the reflections of all experiences of life, the greyness of the slow departure from that life. From beneath that hood, thin straggles of unkempt white hair would fall awkwardly forward, perhaps in an attempt to hide her barren, haggard old face. But within her eyes, hidden beneath the eyes of age, lie the eyes of a crone. One who is stronger than others allow themselves to believe. One deeply immersed in all the knowledge and wisdom of the ages, one who has seen all of the past and understands all. She is Hekate. She is the crone.
Hekate watches. She watches the silence. She watches the emptiness. She watches the bare traces of grief, panic, fear and concern. She watches all that went on before. She watches and knows. She knows of Zeus' command and the reason for it. She knows the outcome that will weave itself, given time. She knows that Zeus shall command her to give aid also. She knows that he undertook this decision, despite knowing her oath to never intervene in the shaping of events. She knows where it will all lead. She glances over the frail emptiness and her eyes flicker for a brief moment. She flickers with it, and with the darkness, she disappears.
* * * * *
As she ploughed her way through the mortal coil, weary with fear, calling out again and again to her child, allowing herself no rest and no respite, none could be more frantic than Demeter. Cold terror bred inside her heart as she thought of her darling child. Where was she? What was happening to her? How could she find her? She was filled with livid horror at the thought of how afraid her daughter must be, what terrible tortures her child might be put through. She was terrified. All that mattered to her was that Persephone was found, was safe once more. Nothing else could ever take precedence over that.
The child that had never left her side was gone. For a moment, a brief and tiny flicker of a moment, she lost all fight. Worry had left her weary. She felt as though she had not the strength to go on, to push ahead. All she wanted was for everything to fade away and leave her in peace. She felt entirely bereft of any feeling other than the questing need to rescue her poor child.
But the terrible, dark moment passed and was gone forever. She knew that whatever she suffered, Persephone was suffering much, much more and no matter what, she could never give up. She had to find her. She had to make sure her poor little girl was safe again. Fear and love renewed Demeter. Her Persephone was lost, afraid! She was waiting for her mother to save her! She could not the gathering darkness destroy her will, or her love for her daughter. Her love for her child was what caused her such anguish, such crushing weakness, but it was also what drove her on; it was her undying light, the core of her unfading heart. Demeter shed tears but was undefeated. She would not stop. She would never stop.
If the situation were reversed, if it was Demeter that had vanished, then Persephone would never think of abandoning her search! Persephone would search always! And so she must search always, she would search until her beloved child was safe in her arms again.
The Pantheon (including Eris, who observed the sorrow and confusion around her with a malicious smile teasing her mouth and a scathing light in her glimmering eyes) had emerged from the lounging carelessness of Olympus to attempt wave after wave of searches for the child goddess. It was all they could do, and yet Persephone remained lost.
It was an agony for Demeter to face Eris - she felt her heart weigh down within her, reaching down to her very bowels in a terrible hybrid of heartache and nausea as she beheld the Lady of Spite, sick with certainty that it was she who had stolen her Persephone. And Eris' sly, spiteful mockery of her pain only confirmed her suspicions, setting them in stone. And yet she was helpless - she could do nothing about it. Her heart boiled and seethed with love and anger.
She remembered with sharp poignancy the first time she had taken her child to Olympus: Eris had encouraged the little child to wander off and then she had disappeared, leaving the child goddess quite lost and alone in the expansive halls of Olympus. Demeter remembered with a pang of fear how she felt her child's cold terror reverberating down their bond, how she had instantly appeared by her daughter's side, scooped her up in her arms, and comforted her crying child. She remembered Persephone's tiny whimper, the trembling of her voice as she told her how frightened she had been all by herself. She also remembered how she had held her daughter - how small, how fragile she seemed! - promising her that she would never again let her lose her way, that if anything happened to her, she would never stop searching until she was found. She also remembered how she could scarcely believe how even Eris could do such a cruel thing to a harmless child.
A whirling confusion descended upon Demeter - she was sure that Eris had stolen her child and yet Hermes had told her that this was impossible, that he had been with the Goddess of Discord the entire time. And yet she was so certain! Who else could it be? Who else was capable of such cruelty? And where was Persephone? Worry blurred all her thoughts and rationality and she was only able to focus on two things: her pain of being without her daughter and her fierce, heroic determination to never stop searching. The most important thing to her was finding her child.
She thought of her brethren. The atmosphere was thick with an intense sense of anxiety. Since the great search had began, she felt her own fear and uncertainty take root in her divine kin. Persephone was beloved by all the Gods; each had their own sentimental attachment to the child (for they still thought of her as a child) and more and more the thought of something dreadful happening to the daughter of Demeter shook them to the core.
Others were concerned because their thoughts were tending upon themselves - if such a thing could happen to her, could it not also happen to them? What if a new creature had arisen that had the ability to destroy Gods, its first victim being the maiden goddess Persephone? What if she had slipped into a new world, a fate that might also be their own?
However, most were concerned with Persephone. The Pantheon all knew her to be a sweet, innocent, bright and loving little child and none wished her ill. It chilled their hearts as nothing else could to think of her, torn from her mother. To think of the sweet girl alone and afraid was a new kind of pain, even to the most thoughtless among them.
Zeus Thunderer grumbled to himself and though he, as always, bristled with brute masculinity, prowess and divine glory, he had the appearance of one troubled by deep-reaching thoughts. He was magnificent and his presence drew all his kin around him, as if to bask in his kingly glory and yet all his selfish and lawless thoughts melted away into worry for his one child by Demeter. He looked toward his sister-lover often now and saw such uncharacteristic misery look back upon him. She had inherited so many qualities of their mother, Rhea, and once he had desired her and taken her as his own and then allowed himself to think of her as a sister once more. He had been pleased by Demeter's adoration of the child and even took moments to observe the sweet youngling. As she had grown, beautiful though she became, no desire for her untouched body inflamed him. To him, she would always be a child. Now that she was gone, taken away by some terrible force, his wrath was as great as his determination to have his daughter returned. His anger sparked the sky with terrible strips of hot lightning and the thunders gathered and roared his fury.
Apollo and Artemis stood as partners in guilt. They felt nothing but the sickness of anxiety burning deep within them, the knowledge that were it not for their few minutes of neglect then Persephone's whereabouts would be known. Apollo gazed into emptiness, trying to discern from faint images of the future what would happen to her. But all was darkness. Artemis was swifter, prepared for movement and action. Already she had her nymphs, hounds and deer on the ready, prepared for a massive search. She was a natural hunter and had thoroughly planned how to use her talent to locate the missing child.
Athena was poised and still as one turned to stone, but her mind was racing ahead as she considered all the possibilities, as she thought of all that could have happened to Persephone, as she also considered the best place to look. She had decided upon commanding Arachne and her kin (who were now all naturally obedient to her) to weave their webs, scattered throughout the lands, with messages, instructions words of comfort, in the hope that they would be seen by the young goddess. Yes, if Persephone still dwelt upon the face of the earth, then she would see at the very least, one web. She frowned inwardly, her turn of thoughts sorrowful, as she hoped to herself that her sometime-student would remember her lessons and use her wits.
Hera was beginning to soften and concern began to breed within her breast, although her pride would never allow her to admit it. She felt bitter at seeing the Lord Zeus' worry for the girl and once more felt the coldness of being supplanted by another woman, however different this case was. And yet, as she saw a terrified and broken-hearted Demeter, her heart swelled with pity for her, her home and hearth. She was also somewhat disturbed that some terrible darkness should prey upon gentle and pure Persephone; of all of them, why the innocent girlchild? She resolved to ardently aid her sister in her search. Also, if her most-glorious husband saw how passionately she devoted herself to their search, perhaps she could once more inspire his marital loyalties, she mused to herself.
Aphrodite clung to Ares, much to the amusement of others and to the ire of her own ugly husband. She cared not. In her tearful state, she chose to cling to her lover for support. The goddess of love felt overcome by a terrible agony of melodramatic grief for the young Persephone. What had happened to her best, best little companion? Oh, her poor virginal little friend! What could have happened to the little girl? Thinking of all the times they had talked and laughed together made her full of anger and grief. If someone had hurt the little thing then she would put the worst, most terrible love-curse she could conjure and would fully unleash the terrible, vengeful, spiteful, merciless side of love upon the creature! She was certain that she felt her heart breaking - to lose the darling little thing, the one goddess that did not treat with disgust, suspicion or jealousy. Oh, how terrible! What could have happened to the poor thing? Had a centaur ravaged her, perhaps? How awful! She deserved not to lose her purity in such a violent way, but to a lover that attracted her, that aroused her, one of her own choosing! What a tragedy this was! The Goddess of love felt full of love's wrath. She buried her face in Ares' chest as she searched wept beautifully.
Everyone seemed terribly shaken, each moved in their own way. But none so shaken, so disturbed, so fearful, as Demeter. Hermes kept near, speaking with her often and trying his utmost to personally aid her in searching, giving a wan smile and attempted to cheer her up and give her hope but his attempts were quite useless. His words of comfort fell on ears that no longer knew what comfort was, not without the presence of Persephone. Demeter had looked upon the God of Messages and saw that he was no longer so bright and chatty, but deeply moved and faded somewhat by the extent of his concern, by the loss of his friend. He could not pretend to Demeter any more than he could pretend to himself that he was not full of sickness and fear at the thought of something happening to his favourite child, his little friend. Whatever had happened to Persephone, he was certain that she was entirely incapable of defending herself in any way.
Demeter lamented to see what fear and love had done to all those around. Her heart bled as she saw the suffering of others, as she saw how deeply Persephone had been loved. She longed for her precious daughter. She longed for the world to be alright once more. She longed to make the world alright for Persephone. She burned with bright determination - her little child would be found as soon as possible, whatever forces responsible for her disappearance would be punished. Everything would be well. Persephone would be found and she would never leave her poor child all alone ever again and soon, Persephone would forget whatever had happened to her in the midst of all her mother's love and all she loved from the world she knew.
She gave out a silent command and soon, nature shifted and danced and in the flicker of a moment, a nymph was by her side. The fair creature looked troubled.
"My lady." She said, her voice trembling with respect and exhaustion.
"How goes your search?" Demeter inquired desperately.
"We have found no trace of her as of yet, our Goddess of the Grain. She seems quite removed from this land." She spoke with her eyes lowered, both from reverence and from nervousness of her Lady's reaction.
Demeter somehow that her hope would be crushed, even before it had happened. She spoke, her voice low and plaintive: "Do not say such things, little nymph. My daughter, your charge, shall be found. We shall not give up until the Lady Persephone is safe and restored to her mother's side. We must search and search again, we must spread ourselves across areas far and wide - she cannot have utterly vanished. We will find her, we must. Have you gathered all your fair sisters?"
"Yes, milady." She replied timidly.
"Are they searching as we speak?"
"Yes, milady - they do search as each of us has done, including yourself whom you show now mercy to, but -"
"But what?" Demeter asked, her voice suddenly strained and tired by her worry.
"But. . .my sisters and I. . .we are all so tired, Ladyship. We need rest. The earth begins to ache and we ache with it. Lady, you have neglected it and it begins to become brittle, dry and cold. It is affecting our strength."
"Are you so tired? So weak? Persephone has not been lost overlong!"
"With greatest respect, my lady -"
Demeter interrupted. " Do dispense with the formalities. Readily and speedily give me any news that affects my search for my beloved daughter."
"Bounteous Demeter, you punish the earth and you punish it most harshly. It is unbearable and looks to become so very much worse. You feed your anger, your anguish, your grief into it. It screams as you scream inside. It aches with your agony. You allow it to feel your pain too keenly, Lady."
Her face softened. "I allow your kin some respite; I forget you are unlike myself and that your bodies demand rest. Understand, I shall forego my duties as Goddess of the Grain in order to search for my child, I cannot afford to waste time -"
The nymph ventured further. "But time spent tending the earth and crops is not time wasted -"
"All things that distract me from finding precious Persephone is time wasted! This time we use to discuss the matter is time wasted! Whatever agonies my daughter must endure, she must endure more with each passing moment! I cannot waste the tiniest amount of time! She needs me! She needs me more than the crops need my attention and kind ministrations. I will search for her and I shall have no rest until I find her. The mortal lands can survive my absence for a short while. I shall diligently return to my duties once my daughter is safe and happy."
"My lady -"
Demeter gave a slow shake of her head. "Nay. Say no more, nymph. I know your concerns for they are mine also but greater yet are my concerns for my child. Rest, if you must, but it is my command that you give all you have in your waking hours to aid in Persephone's rescue."
"I will do so with all my heart, Lady." The young nymph replied.
"Then leave me and speak no more of this. I shall continue my search." She concluded the conversation, her voice troubled and grave.
The nymph bowed and vanished and Demeter was once more alone and feeling the solitary agony of a mother without her darling child. In this state of grief and determination, surrounded by bitterness, love, fear and hope alike, she abandoned all reason and rationality and strode forward in the musky night air, calling out her child's name. No, she vowed. She could never stop until her sweet Persephone was with her and safe from harm once more. She did not notice the small flower at her feet begin to wither and decline in its own tiny, starving agony.
* * * * *
The darkness was not a darkness Persephone's eyes could eventually get used to. No matter how many times she tried to breed bravery within her heart, the chilling darkness would slash through her courage effortlessly. She shivered, and unconsciously stepped a little closer to her husband. The only sign that betrayed that he noticed this was the tiniest glow of warmth in his striking blue eyes.
They had walked together in silence since leaving her room. She had questions she fiercely burned to ask, but her resentment of this held her back. They stopped at a balcony, overlooking much of the dreary, dead land. Hades hoped to explain much of it to her, hoped that she would begin to feel awe, begin to appreciate the magnitude of what he offered her. But it struck fear and disgust deep in her heart. Oh, how she missed the light! How she needed to see but a single flower!
"My Lord Hades?" Her gentle voice was quiet and timid, yet somehow brave and searching.
"Yes, sweet Persephone?" he replied. Each time she spoke to him (with that maddeningly gentle voice!), new hope, new warmth was born in him.
The dense silence of the realm in which she resides absorbed her into it. She thrust her lower lip out, putting her chin up assertively as she looked at him. She was determined to speak. What little, false, lights there were in the halls of Hades' grand abode caught the line of her jaw and emphasised the pearl beauty of her skin.
"I dislike it here. It is too dark, too terrible. I do not want to live here."
He turned his face away from her. "I know. I know that you are unhappy. I understand your feelings."
She shook her head, her rich curls swaying out of their elaborate wiring a little more. "No, no - you misunderstand." She said in a glowing rush. "I was about to ask you, why is it that you chose to dwell here, in the company of shadows? You seem to long for warmth and brightness so fervently - why is it that you chose this tomb as your domain?"
He looked at her, surprised. He blinked, shocked that she could show any curiosity about him. She was still walking, trying to ignore his scrutiny - it still clearly made her uncomfortable, in fact, every time she saw him looking upon her intently, she would tremble and look frightened. And yet, he saw the open honesty of her question in her eyes. She always looked so earnest. It moved him.
His voice was grave. "I did not choose."
"What happened?"
"After the defeat of the Titans -"
"Oh! My mother has told me this tale of the war against the Titans, and how she was swallowed by her father, the Lord Cronos, as an infant! Athena told me the tale of how the three great realms were divided - I remember now! - although my mother is a better storyteller, I believe. I prefer the way she told it." She said delightedly, her face brightening up.
Hades did not mind her interruption, as the memory had her beaming. He didn't mind that she already knew the tale, to see her momentary happiness was reward enough. Of course, he somewhat doubted Persephone's fervent belief that Demeter was a greater mistress of the spoken story than wise Athena, he made no comment, instead taking joy from the brightness and freedom of her smile.
But of course, she fell silent, her cheeks flushed slightly with embarrassment for interrupting him, and the colour faded entirely from her cheeks as she remembered her mother. Her mother, who had embraced her. Her mother, who had told her tales and stories of her great family. Her mother, who she might never see again. The ache of her loss, her alienation, her sorrow had flown away to circle her overhead for a brief moment, but now they came tumbling down back towards her. The blow when that loss struck her once more, was difficult to bear whilst remaining perfectly composed. She hated herself for having forgotten her mother and her world, even for a few brief moments. She felt tears pressing.
Hades spoke again, before she could fully sink into silence again. "Are you well, Persephone?"
"No." She said childishly, her voice shaken and thick, as though she was holding back a tide of tears.
"Do not cry, Persephone. Please, do not cry."
"But I want to go home!"
"Would you like me to continue?" he asked, his tone kind.
She snapped her head up and scrutinised him. She looked pensive, behind the frightened tearfulness. She thought of him, of her curiosity and it made her courageous once more.
She gave a wan imitation of a smile. "Yes. No, wait. No. No, I do not desire it, thank you."
Hades said nothing, but nodded in acceptance. His face betrayed no emotion.
Persephone faltered, having no wish in her to hurt his feelings, only to spare her own. "You see, I already know the tale - I do not wish to hear it once more. My mother was the last one to tell me the story and I want it to remain so. It is a precious little something that I have left of her; my memories of her warmth and love. I do not want to hear her telling of it replaced by your own."
Persephone paused, thinking of Hades, and of her mother. She considered apologising to him, but decided against it. Still, she glanced at him, scanning his face for an outward sign of any reaction to her words. She was uncertain what to call the face that looked back at her through the pale darkness.
Hades was hurt but not overly so, for her was soon lost in his own thoughts. He had not spoken of how he had earned his kingdom until now, nor considered ever letting a single soul know of it from his own perspective. He became lost to the throes of memories, to the bitterness of ancient regrets and despair. He remembered how full of hope and dreams he had been - if only he picked the correct straw, then all could be his. The heavens and earth, expansive, glorious, bright, as well as boughs of fresh, innocent life, all the glory and all the potential. . .everything it could have been his. If not, then deep, unfurling, temperamental and beautiful oceans and waters of unending blue could have been his. But no, his luck had been less. Zeus inherited the greatness of heaven and earth, Poseidon inherited the kingdom within the waves, and Hades, unfortunate Hades, had inherited the darkness of the Underworld.
He had never lamented, never cursed his luck, never cursed his fortunate brothers. He had instantly resigned himself to his destiny and pushed down all sadness, regret and longing. He had even shown more grace than the blessed Poseidon, who had sulked and raged at not winning Olympus, oblivious to his other brother's greater misfortune. Now, he began sinking beneath those thoughts, those long-buried regrets and secret sorrows. The enormity of that day now fully hurled itself upon his mind, as he thought how very different things could have been. For the first time, that knowledge haunted him.
Persephone noticed this change in him, she had sensed him become morose and sink in to grim thoughts and feelings. She thought it her own fault and felt instantly remorseful and wanted to make amends.
"My Lord Hades? Are you well? I did not wish to offend you, nor harm your heart. I am sorry." She said and hesitantly, timidly touched his arm, lost under swathes of black robes, with her dainty hand.
He turned towards her. The sudden sadness in his eyes made her sympathetic soul ache. She retracted her hand and held it her own once more.
"What are you feeling?" she asked searchingly.
He did not know how to answer her and before he could form and answer, she ventured, guessing his thoughts.
"How did you feel about your fate, my Lord?" she enquired quietly.
"It is my fate, my destiny. It is eternal and unshakeable."
"Shall I tell you my thoughts?"
He looked at her deeply. "I would dearly like that, sweet Persephone."
"My Lord, I think you are sad."
Silence was the only answer she received.
"My Lord? Are you sad?"
He disliked denying her answers, but the subject made him uncomfortable and that was answer enough for the innocent Spring Goddess. He resented being so reticent, when she was taking the incredible effort to speak to him. It should have been all he desired - his beloved Persephone was speaking to him with sympathy, friendliness and understanding, she was eager to learn about him, and he returned her goodness with cold silences. He was wasting a perfect chance to show her how deeply she was loved, to show her why he deserved her golden love in return.
"You are sad. I know it."
"Ah. As you are sad, my Persephone?"
Was this what she was trying to do? Was she, by bringing up his own sadness at living in such a dark realm, attempting to convince him to release her?
"No."
He looked at her sharply. Had she read his very thoughts has they were born in his mind?!
"No, my Lord." She continued. "I do not think that your sorrow is the same as mine."
Ah. So read his mind she had not accomplished. It was merely a misunderstanding, a misinterpretation of her words, on his part and nothing more. Yet, her words interested him greatly. The gentle green of her eyes burned with a compassionate, almost tender flame. More than beautiful, it was awe-inspiring.
She spoke again, nervous of any attempt to understand him or sympathise him, though that did not stop her from saying that which she needed to say. "My sadness is the sadness of one torn from their element, from all I loved and was and thrust into a place of despair and horror. I have been ripped away from my strength, my lifeline. I am alone and weak without my mother, our bond. . .I miss her terribly."
"I understand your pain, dear Persephone."
"I believe you wish to, and that you see my suffering, but I do not believe you understand, or can ever understand it. If you did understand the agony the agony I suffer lost and without her in such terrifying darkness, then you would understand me."
"Persephone -"
"No, I do not wish to discuss that! That was not my wish! I know you will refuse me, no matter how I plead. It is quite hopeless."
"Persephone. . ." he said gently, almost hating her for making him feel such unjust torment. But he could not feel any bitterness towards her, only love. He hated himself even more for giving her cause for such grief. And yet it was a torture to have a queen he adored who would never return the feeling.
"Let me say what I intended to say, then I will hold my peace, if you so desire. I have told you of my own sadness. I think you are sad, my Lord Hades, but your sadness is different to mine. Your sadness, I think, comes from your dreams of more being rejected, the sadness of one unable to stop how their character is moulded by their destiny. You see the darkness around you and then you see it inside you, as a part of you, as what you are - and you loathe and fear it."
Though he said nothing, he was moved. She had seen what he had not even dared look upon inside himself. He felt as though she was still reaching inside him, her small hand touching his heart, warming it. He looked at her, her open, trusting, faithful face, glowing with innocence. He was helpless.
Knowing not what to do or say to show his feelings, he followed the natural course of his instincts and took a step forward towards her. She sprang back in shock and turned away, her eyes sad and downcast. She had no wish to be cruel. She felt unhappy for turning away from him, yet at the same time, she could not suffer the sickening terror of being any closer to him. She still felt the imprint of his merciless arm around her waist, binding her to him and stealing her away from her light. She still felt the ugly chill of his lips on hers, the night of their cursed marriage. She paled in horror at the memory.
But another memory flourished - the memory of beautiful blue eyes, full of light and emotion and truth, so unlike this entire dead world. It was a strange comfort, though she did not fully understand it.
"Persephone," Hades said "do not speak of sadness. I accept my destiny, as I did those many centuries past. I chose my straw and in that, I chose my fate. Had my decision been different, then my fate would be altered. But it is as it is - there is no changing it. To think about such things is what brings true sadness, my sweet bride, not acceptance or resignation."
"But it is so dark here, so awful!" she cried.
"It may be dark, but it is a great realm, to rival that of Zeus. There are worlds within worlds here. It is a most magnificent kingdom, Persephone, and I am even king to all the riches the bountiful earth has to offer. As Lord of the Underworld and God of Wealth, I wield great power and influence; I am not in any way less fortunate than my brothers, to have been given the precious gift of rule of this domain. I am grateful for my destiny to reign here. Even my mighty brothers decided that my situation was agreeable; that the Underworld befitted my own cold, dark and solitary nature."
"No! If you were naturally dark and solitary then the last thing you could have needed was darkness and solitude! You should have been able to come out into the light!"
"Is the light truly so glorious?" he asked.
"I carry it in my heart even as it trembles in fear here." She said, strongly.
"Then it is glorious."
She flinched, still uncomfortable with him saying such things to her. She had never set out to appear beautiful. She had simply blossomed without being at all aware of it. She knew not how to warm the blood of men, nor did she care to know. Such things only confused her.
"Persephone," he spoke "you must understand, that in this darkness is loneliness for which your light is the only balm. I love you, as I have since I first saw such a soul shine upon me. If you could only let your sorrow die and embrace this kingdom and my loving heart, then you will know happiness. Your presence gives brightness and life to this dreary world, for your laughter to ring through these lonely halls would make the Underworld a paradise."
"I can never appreciate it, my Lord. I shall ask you to return me again and again, each day. I do not want to live here."
"Yet you asked to see more of our realm. Have you changed your mind?"
She was reminded again of her purpose, the mission she had assigned herself. Her heart shook with the force of her sympathy for the dead souls as trapped here as she was. Persephone did not tell Hades that the reason she had showed eagerness to learn of the Underworld was because she felt an affinity for the souls wandering there, not from any resignation to her situation (she refused to think of it as her fate!). The thought that she could say so out of spite never even occurred to her.
"No." she answered, not without feeling a pang of guilt. "My mind is unchanged. Please allow me to explore this dark realm. There is much I feel I need to see with my own eyes."
"Would you desire my company, Persephone?" He asked, unwilling to escort her if it made her so uncomfortable and fearful.
She was surprised that he had asked, that he had given her the option, rather than insisting that they travel together. She was grateful. This time, her smile was not forced.
"Yes, if it does not trouble you. I would like to know of your duties."
His smile was a hesitant, self-doubting thing, almost as though it feared emerged from worry of mockery. He said nothing, but the look in his eyes puzzled her, as if she was a most precious, cherished treasure. He walked and kindly indicated for her to follow, that she was safe from the darkness at his side. She followed, as they departed the lonely balcony and twisted through the desolate corridors.
She was walking through the dark halls of Hades' (and hers, she remembered with a quiet sense of totality) castle, about to see her domain, and grateful for the fact that she didn't have to walk alone. Even the presence of her captor was preferable to the waking nightmare of having to brave the darkness alone. Curiously, she looked up at him, wondering how he could stand it. Looking at him, he seemed so dark, so stern, so cold. She could hardly believe that there was any love in him. And yet, she had seen a tender, guarded heart when first she met him. The very fact that she was trapped at his side was living proof of a nature more passionate than any could ever have guessed. His deep blue eyes were glittering with life and emotion none had ever credited him with. She wondered why.
"Have you ever fallen in love before, my Lord?" she asked, unsure of why she had done such a thing. She did not know if she wanted an answer. She was awkward and gauche in her handling of the fact that he professed such love for her.
He looked upon her with something she couldn't understand. Once again, the pale smile appeared.
"No, Persephone. It has always been you."
She made no reply, but continued following him, subdued in many thoughts. Persephone began to feel her heart spill over with cold dread at the prospect of venturing out into the Underworld. Her own nature, the virtues and flaws of her personality encouraged her towards courage, to see this un- land, to learn what she could, to bring brightness to it, to help others. But fear still had her tight in its sway.
The presence of Hades at her side both comforted and terrified her - to not be alone and unloved made the darkness an easier burden to bear, but her deep-reaching and instinctive fear and uneasiness of him, of all he was capable of, frightened her. In the blackness, a small sense of conflict was born.
The worst fear that preyed on her mind was how much worse the outside of the cold walls must be. And the castle itself frightened her beyond words! How much worse it would be once the pair of them left its grand, black walls. This was her own decision, she reminded herself, but she was sure that, despite her most desperate and brave wishes, she would never cope. The darkness was too much.
Retrieved from her reverie with cold, sharp immediacy, she glanced around, muted by a sense of awe and horror. It seemed to go on forever! Was there no end to it, no end to the fear, to the darkness? She seemed little more than a frightened and overwhelmed child. She caught a thick strand of her chestnut hair in her hair and wound it around her index finger nervously. The darkness stretched, expanded, thickened and deepened. The castle seemed to be as great and unending as the misery of death. Indeed, the castle was immense; there existed room after room after room through corridors, cloisters, tucked away in towers, or hidden in the more shadowed parts of the castle. And most rooms were unused and had not been used for as long as the Lord Hades could remember.
It seemed so strange to her, such a vast home to be so empty. Every inch of Sicily had been filled with love, warmth, fun her mother's presence and memories. She had never been truly alone. For a moment, she thought that it must be terribly lonely to have a huge but empty castle all to oneself. But how she could be expected to make any difference to it was quite beyond her. She suddenly longed for the ability to make it bright and full of warmth and song and laughter. For a wild, benevolent moment, she even - especially, perhaps - wanted to bring light to Hades, despite everything, as he seemed to long for it and seemed so sad in the dark. But as the only audible sounds being the hush of death and her own vulnerable breathing, it seemed an impossible dream.
They turned a corner together, looking almost like the perfect Lord and Lady and descended down a nightmarish spiral of treacherous onyx steps. She didn't trust them to keep her safe. She didn't trust them not to crumble beneath her and send her plummeting down into some swirling black abyss. She didn't trust anything around her. She didn't trust the Underworld.
"Do not be afraid, Persephone. No harm shall ever come to you." Hades' reassuring whisper shattered the blackness and reminded her of life and warmth, that such things could exist in such a domain. After all, she existed down there, did she not? She was queen here, she thought to herself. And yet, she felt certain that she could not exist in such a realm much longer, that she - like any other living creature - was out of her element here and would eventually wither and die.
She walked through the corridors, wary of the penetrating emptiness, the consuming blackness, the harrowing chilliness, and the frightful shadows that clung to the dead walls and leapt at her aura of light whenever she passed. Hades himself saw how her aura of life attracted them to her the way the scent of human blood attracted terrible beasts. The black shades leapt and darted at her light, greedily lapping up what they could, and she was helpless against them, despite being their queen.
He stopped and spoke. "Persephone, you must not fear them. They mean you no harm."
"But they try to consume what little light I have; they weaken me."
Her took her dainty hands in his own. "Let me show you how to dismiss the shadows."
"I can dismiss them?"
His voice was intense, gentle and wise. "You are their queen. They exist to serve you. You may command them to leave you and never trouble you again; they are only under the impression that you welcome them to feast on your light - you must dismiss them."
She was unsure and small. "I-I do not know how."
"Feel your own powers, your own ability, deep within you, the power that can command these shadows, for shadows are all they are."
"How can I command them? I have no power over creatures of darkness, I only know how to bend flowers and nature to my will. I. . .I cannot do this, my Lord."
"Yes, you can." He said warmly, his voice moving through her.
Her voice and mouth shook. "How? I have not the power."
"You have all the power you need, sweet Persephone. In your spirit exists life, spark, potential - trust me, I can help you use it."
She was wary, but somehow, she felt it best to put her trust in him. She nodded and closed her eyes. She felt his presence keenly, felt his will guide her own.
"Now, Persephone. . .feel as you feel when you create flowers, when you allow them to lean toward the sun and blossom. Do you feel that power gather deep within you? Think of these shades as you think of the flowers; for they are no less natural. Do not fear them. Do you feel how your light nurtures them as it nurtures your flowers?"
She trembled. "Yes, yes I do feel it!"
"Now. . .allow yourself to sense their dependence on it, their love of it, their desire to serve it."
She felt her energy gently pinioning outwards, gently touching each shadow. She felt how they served her. Without needing further instruction, she hesitantly but confidently, allowed a fraction of her will to gather up above them. She let her wishes be know through it. She felt them stop, she felt them acknowledge her.
"Do you feel it?" Hades asked, surprised how she quickly, how naturally she had advanced alone. His admiration of her grew and he felt his own spirit channel such affection around her.
He spoke. "Now, dismiss them."
The words echoed in her mind. Dismissed. . . And with that, they were gone, and her light was renewed. She felt stronger, braver, as if she had touched something within herself that she had never encountered before, as if something new and alive in her was beginning to move. It was a new kind of life for her. New life, found in the depths of Underworld.
She opened her eyes to see Hades' eyes. He looking at her with such affection and admiration that it warmed her. She felt pleased that she had succeeded, joyous at his confidence in her, grateful for his aid. Slowly, she smiled at him with kindness. Her smile was full of the light of the sun, it seemed, for it still amazed him. For her to smile upon him so was such a gift, such an honour! For a moment, all loneliness and longing vanished and he was content.
Persephone noticed that her hands were still in his and starting, she withdrew them, again feeling confused and lost. Though this time the darkness did not reclaim her.
"Thank you." She whispered.
He nodded silently and continued walking. However, his presence seemed to linger beside her, almost comfortingly. He sensed that she did not want to extend the moment and yet love and hope swelled in him. The smile on her face, that had for a rare moment, touched her eyes and heart fascinated him. How he longed for her to accept him, to love him!
Persephone walked, feeling a little happier now. For a moment, the despair slid from her, inching off a little, allowing her to see and breathe. Hades' strange eyes still baffled her, how could such light, such rich, tangible colour and texture exist in the Underworld? And in the eyes of its dread ruler, no less? Playfully, she wondered what would be best to compare them too: a stream? The big blue sky? A blue flower of particular depth and prettiness? None seemed to satisfy her innocent musings.
That the thought brought her pain, following soon after. She had felt such warmth for a moment, it reminded her of the bond she shared with her mother. She reached down their golden bond, desperately calling out once more. The cold and the empty silence that greeted her instead or enveloping love, strength and security made her recoil in fear and anguish. It was like a slap in the face. She called out to her mother inwardly again and again. How she missed her mother! How she needed her comforting spirit! How she wanted to go home!
At the end of a huge corridor, Hades stopped and gazed upon her expectantly. The darkness of his hair and robes, the pallor of his skin and the living, breathing colour shining in his eyes startled her. She looked at him, her eyes wide and uncertain.
"Gentle Persephone," he asked "are you ready to behold our great kingdom?"
Author's Note: Ah! To write again! To rediscover my beautiful, beautiful muse! To not be punished by evil, evil university, interviews, forms, essays and coursework! Life is wonderful! And Christmas is here! Now, getting off that high for a moment, my apologies to those kept waiting for the next update (I hope the fact that this chapter is extra-long makes up for that) and my thanks to those who didn't spare me from a good prod when I deserved it. I hope to have more time to update this more often from now on, especially as the holidays are coming. On with the story - enter Hekate! Enjoy!
Epitaph Empress
Chapter XIII
Zeus had spoken. His command rang and thrashed throughout the heavens, roaring and rumbling like the most furious and brilliant of tempests. None could ignore his words.
"Here this, my brethren. It is my command and it shall be so that we must all search. Not one of us shall be spared. All will aid in searching for the Spring Maiden. No stone shall be unturned, no creature with eyes or ears unquestioned. No place will be too small or too insignificant to look. Our duties will come second to Persephone. We shall scour our kingdom and beyond. We shall use all our powers, all our servants. We shall inform our priests and priestesses, so humankind will know of our search. We shall tell of our quest to all wise animals, that they may also play a part. Persephone, daughter of Demeter, shall be found. Go."
And so it was. In a blaze of light, in a deluge of brightness, the Pantheon departed Olympus and spread out. First, Sicily had been thoroughly poured through. Then, the search spread to the kingdom of heavens, as the Gods fled across the great sky and divine lands, calling out to the missing child. Now, the search had reached the earth, the humanlands. The Pantheon rained down upon the earth, spreading their influence far and wide, calling assistance from all, covering the lands like a war, their desperation reaching outwards towards the lost goddess. All searched, scanning, tilling, toiling: they flurried across the earth, pouring over land, spilling across areas of enormous population to the quietest, remotest region Above.
All searched. All searched with frantic anxiety burning their hearts, none with a heart more frantic than that of the Lady of the Harvest, none with a heart so scorched with pain. All searched, and yet not a trace of young Persephone could be found. Not even a whisper of the name of one who may know what had befallen her was heard. The Daughter of Spring was lost and Demeter was thrust into a world of anguish.
* * * * *
The divine kingdom was empty. Empty of every divine presence, save one - one most divine. From the shadows and shades of the past present and future, she wove herself from intangible thoughts into the appearance of flesh. All around her was hushed as whispers of knowledge heaved out of the darkness with her. She watched, as was her destiny. To watch and to know.
To those with the wisdom (or perhaps foolishness) to look upon her unabashedly, she would at first appear to a shape as formless and sexless as the cold, dark moon. She was tall, imposing, casting a long dark shadow behind her that always rested upon the doomed. She was swathed in thick black robes, robes that appeared as heavy as knowledge, as stark as the truth, as grim as the future. These robes trailed to her feet, gathered at her shoulders and concealed her face beneath a dark cowl. It seemed impossible to discern whether or not this figure was old or young, male or female, weak or strong, pitiable or fearful. Until one looked harder. . .
Looking at her face beneath her hood, one could see nothingness. Her face was not there, in its place a semblance of a face that seemed made entirely out of a flat, black rock. It looked like a mask carved out of deep, polished onyx of the most penetrating black, a black that shimmered a pure white when touched by the light of the moon. It was a face without features, save one. Her eyes. At first, they appeared white and ghostly, like the eyes of one born blind. But these were eyes that saw all. If one dared look hard enough, they would see beyond the appearance of murky whiteness, clouds, deepening, greying clouds that held everything within them, all the wisdom of all worlds past and all worlds to come. Beneath the blind white was a dark splendour that held boundless knowledge and reflected a thousand fates. She was Hekate.
This was her form, and yet, it was not. When she became the maiden, the robes around her would shift in a slow, gnarled dance, concealing her utterly, and when they fell back into place, this time they would cling sensuously to a clearly feminine figure, diaphanously. The hood would reveal a face, no longer like dark, unfeeling stone, but warm, pale and fleshly, full of the beauty and freshness of the future. The cowl would fall back to release ebony black hair, flowing wilder than the waves. Her eyes, as wide as innocence, would darken to a thunderous, tempestuous grey- black, thick and heavy with wisdom beyond that of any mortal maiden. This was Hekate. This was the maiden.
This was also her form, and yet it too was not. When she deemed it that she should cast aside the knowledge of youth and take upon herself the knowledge of experience, yet again the robes would consume her with their blackness. Her face would age, ripen, mature, become lined with the passing of life, begin to sag with the shadows of the future, of the decline it must inevitably bring. Her robes, still dark and imperious upon a goddess reverberating with ancient knowledge, understanding and power, would cling to young flesh no more and now press against the stomach of a woman great with child. Her hair would begin to lose its youthful richness and begin to thicken and dry, and of course, become touched by thin slivers of age, threaded with grey. But in her eyes, still, lie power and wisdom, the wisdom to observe all in the present, to still look towards the solitary moon. This was Hekate. This was the mother.
Yet as always, this was her form, and yet it was not. Her eyes could dim, pale and appear glazed and weary with age, the benevolent knowledge within a mere spark that only the wisest of mortals could deserve to see within their perceptions. Her skin could wither, yellow and fold upon itself, twist into something lined and knobbly but wise and become home to a thousand scars of longevity. Her robes would shift, the child within her disappearing within the barrenness of age. Instead they now betray a gnarled lump of a woman; a small, twisted body, built by brittle bones. Her solid robes, looped and festooned down her form like a candle dripping wax, would cling to a frail, breakable body, a hunched back, her hood hiding a face bearing all the reflections of all experiences of life, the greyness of the slow departure from that life. From beneath that hood, thin straggles of unkempt white hair would fall awkwardly forward, perhaps in an attempt to hide her barren, haggard old face. But within her eyes, hidden beneath the eyes of age, lie the eyes of a crone. One who is stronger than others allow themselves to believe. One deeply immersed in all the knowledge and wisdom of the ages, one who has seen all of the past and understands all. She is Hekate. She is the crone.
Hekate watches. She watches the silence. She watches the emptiness. She watches the bare traces of grief, panic, fear and concern. She watches all that went on before. She watches and knows. She knows of Zeus' command and the reason for it. She knows the outcome that will weave itself, given time. She knows that Zeus shall command her to give aid also. She knows that he undertook this decision, despite knowing her oath to never intervene in the shaping of events. She knows where it will all lead. She glances over the frail emptiness and her eyes flicker for a brief moment. She flickers with it, and with the darkness, she disappears.
* * * * *
As she ploughed her way through the mortal coil, weary with fear, calling out again and again to her child, allowing herself no rest and no respite, none could be more frantic than Demeter. Cold terror bred inside her heart as she thought of her darling child. Where was she? What was happening to her? How could she find her? She was filled with livid horror at the thought of how afraid her daughter must be, what terrible tortures her child might be put through. She was terrified. All that mattered to her was that Persephone was found, was safe once more. Nothing else could ever take precedence over that.
The child that had never left her side was gone. For a moment, a brief and tiny flicker of a moment, she lost all fight. Worry had left her weary. She felt as though she had not the strength to go on, to push ahead. All she wanted was for everything to fade away and leave her in peace. She felt entirely bereft of any feeling other than the questing need to rescue her poor child.
But the terrible, dark moment passed and was gone forever. She knew that whatever she suffered, Persephone was suffering much, much more and no matter what, she could never give up. She had to find her. She had to make sure her poor little girl was safe again. Fear and love renewed Demeter. Her Persephone was lost, afraid! She was waiting for her mother to save her! She could not the gathering darkness destroy her will, or her love for her daughter. Her love for her child was what caused her such anguish, such crushing weakness, but it was also what drove her on; it was her undying light, the core of her unfading heart. Demeter shed tears but was undefeated. She would not stop. She would never stop.
If the situation were reversed, if it was Demeter that had vanished, then Persephone would never think of abandoning her search! Persephone would search always! And so she must search always, she would search until her beloved child was safe in her arms again.
The Pantheon (including Eris, who observed the sorrow and confusion around her with a malicious smile teasing her mouth and a scathing light in her glimmering eyes) had emerged from the lounging carelessness of Olympus to attempt wave after wave of searches for the child goddess. It was all they could do, and yet Persephone remained lost.
It was an agony for Demeter to face Eris - she felt her heart weigh down within her, reaching down to her very bowels in a terrible hybrid of heartache and nausea as she beheld the Lady of Spite, sick with certainty that it was she who had stolen her Persephone. And Eris' sly, spiteful mockery of her pain only confirmed her suspicions, setting them in stone. And yet she was helpless - she could do nothing about it. Her heart boiled and seethed with love and anger.
She remembered with sharp poignancy the first time she had taken her child to Olympus: Eris had encouraged the little child to wander off and then she had disappeared, leaving the child goddess quite lost and alone in the expansive halls of Olympus. Demeter remembered with a pang of fear how she felt her child's cold terror reverberating down their bond, how she had instantly appeared by her daughter's side, scooped her up in her arms, and comforted her crying child. She remembered Persephone's tiny whimper, the trembling of her voice as she told her how frightened she had been all by herself. She also remembered how she had held her daughter - how small, how fragile she seemed! - promising her that she would never again let her lose her way, that if anything happened to her, she would never stop searching until she was found. She also remembered how she could scarcely believe how even Eris could do such a cruel thing to a harmless child.
A whirling confusion descended upon Demeter - she was sure that Eris had stolen her child and yet Hermes had told her that this was impossible, that he had been with the Goddess of Discord the entire time. And yet she was so certain! Who else could it be? Who else was capable of such cruelty? And where was Persephone? Worry blurred all her thoughts and rationality and she was only able to focus on two things: her pain of being without her daughter and her fierce, heroic determination to never stop searching. The most important thing to her was finding her child.
She thought of her brethren. The atmosphere was thick with an intense sense of anxiety. Since the great search had began, she felt her own fear and uncertainty take root in her divine kin. Persephone was beloved by all the Gods; each had their own sentimental attachment to the child (for they still thought of her as a child) and more and more the thought of something dreadful happening to the daughter of Demeter shook them to the core.
Others were concerned because their thoughts were tending upon themselves - if such a thing could happen to her, could it not also happen to them? What if a new creature had arisen that had the ability to destroy Gods, its first victim being the maiden goddess Persephone? What if she had slipped into a new world, a fate that might also be their own?
However, most were concerned with Persephone. The Pantheon all knew her to be a sweet, innocent, bright and loving little child and none wished her ill. It chilled their hearts as nothing else could to think of her, torn from her mother. To think of the sweet girl alone and afraid was a new kind of pain, even to the most thoughtless among them.
Zeus Thunderer grumbled to himself and though he, as always, bristled with brute masculinity, prowess and divine glory, he had the appearance of one troubled by deep-reaching thoughts. He was magnificent and his presence drew all his kin around him, as if to bask in his kingly glory and yet all his selfish and lawless thoughts melted away into worry for his one child by Demeter. He looked toward his sister-lover often now and saw such uncharacteristic misery look back upon him. She had inherited so many qualities of their mother, Rhea, and once he had desired her and taken her as his own and then allowed himself to think of her as a sister once more. He had been pleased by Demeter's adoration of the child and even took moments to observe the sweet youngling. As she had grown, beautiful though she became, no desire for her untouched body inflamed him. To him, she would always be a child. Now that she was gone, taken away by some terrible force, his wrath was as great as his determination to have his daughter returned. His anger sparked the sky with terrible strips of hot lightning and the thunders gathered and roared his fury.
Apollo and Artemis stood as partners in guilt. They felt nothing but the sickness of anxiety burning deep within them, the knowledge that were it not for their few minutes of neglect then Persephone's whereabouts would be known. Apollo gazed into emptiness, trying to discern from faint images of the future what would happen to her. But all was darkness. Artemis was swifter, prepared for movement and action. Already she had her nymphs, hounds and deer on the ready, prepared for a massive search. She was a natural hunter and had thoroughly planned how to use her talent to locate the missing child.
Athena was poised and still as one turned to stone, but her mind was racing ahead as she considered all the possibilities, as she thought of all that could have happened to Persephone, as she also considered the best place to look. She had decided upon commanding Arachne and her kin (who were now all naturally obedient to her) to weave their webs, scattered throughout the lands, with messages, instructions words of comfort, in the hope that they would be seen by the young goddess. Yes, if Persephone still dwelt upon the face of the earth, then she would see at the very least, one web. She frowned inwardly, her turn of thoughts sorrowful, as she hoped to herself that her sometime-student would remember her lessons and use her wits.
Hera was beginning to soften and concern began to breed within her breast, although her pride would never allow her to admit it. She felt bitter at seeing the Lord Zeus' worry for the girl and once more felt the coldness of being supplanted by another woman, however different this case was. And yet, as she saw a terrified and broken-hearted Demeter, her heart swelled with pity for her, her home and hearth. She was also somewhat disturbed that some terrible darkness should prey upon gentle and pure Persephone; of all of them, why the innocent girlchild? She resolved to ardently aid her sister in her search. Also, if her most-glorious husband saw how passionately she devoted herself to their search, perhaps she could once more inspire his marital loyalties, she mused to herself.
Aphrodite clung to Ares, much to the amusement of others and to the ire of her own ugly husband. She cared not. In her tearful state, she chose to cling to her lover for support. The goddess of love felt overcome by a terrible agony of melodramatic grief for the young Persephone. What had happened to her best, best little companion? Oh, her poor virginal little friend! What could have happened to the little girl? Thinking of all the times they had talked and laughed together made her full of anger and grief. If someone had hurt the little thing then she would put the worst, most terrible love-curse she could conjure and would fully unleash the terrible, vengeful, spiteful, merciless side of love upon the creature! She was certain that she felt her heart breaking - to lose the darling little thing, the one goddess that did not treat with disgust, suspicion or jealousy. Oh, how terrible! What could have happened to the poor thing? Had a centaur ravaged her, perhaps? How awful! She deserved not to lose her purity in such a violent way, but to a lover that attracted her, that aroused her, one of her own choosing! What a tragedy this was! The Goddess of love felt full of love's wrath. She buried her face in Ares' chest as she searched wept beautifully.
Everyone seemed terribly shaken, each moved in their own way. But none so shaken, so disturbed, so fearful, as Demeter. Hermes kept near, speaking with her often and trying his utmost to personally aid her in searching, giving a wan smile and attempted to cheer her up and give her hope but his attempts were quite useless. His words of comfort fell on ears that no longer knew what comfort was, not without the presence of Persephone. Demeter had looked upon the God of Messages and saw that he was no longer so bright and chatty, but deeply moved and faded somewhat by the extent of his concern, by the loss of his friend. He could not pretend to Demeter any more than he could pretend to himself that he was not full of sickness and fear at the thought of something happening to his favourite child, his little friend. Whatever had happened to Persephone, he was certain that she was entirely incapable of defending herself in any way.
Demeter lamented to see what fear and love had done to all those around. Her heart bled as she saw the suffering of others, as she saw how deeply Persephone had been loved. She longed for her precious daughter. She longed for the world to be alright once more. She longed to make the world alright for Persephone. She burned with bright determination - her little child would be found as soon as possible, whatever forces responsible for her disappearance would be punished. Everything would be well. Persephone would be found and she would never leave her poor child all alone ever again and soon, Persephone would forget whatever had happened to her in the midst of all her mother's love and all she loved from the world she knew.
She gave out a silent command and soon, nature shifted and danced and in the flicker of a moment, a nymph was by her side. The fair creature looked troubled.
"My lady." She said, her voice trembling with respect and exhaustion.
"How goes your search?" Demeter inquired desperately.
"We have found no trace of her as of yet, our Goddess of the Grain. She seems quite removed from this land." She spoke with her eyes lowered, both from reverence and from nervousness of her Lady's reaction.
Demeter somehow that her hope would be crushed, even before it had happened. She spoke, her voice low and plaintive: "Do not say such things, little nymph. My daughter, your charge, shall be found. We shall not give up until the Lady Persephone is safe and restored to her mother's side. We must search and search again, we must spread ourselves across areas far and wide - she cannot have utterly vanished. We will find her, we must. Have you gathered all your fair sisters?"
"Yes, milady." She replied timidly.
"Are they searching as we speak?"
"Yes, milady - they do search as each of us has done, including yourself whom you show now mercy to, but -"
"But what?" Demeter asked, her voice suddenly strained and tired by her worry.
"But. . .my sisters and I. . .we are all so tired, Ladyship. We need rest. The earth begins to ache and we ache with it. Lady, you have neglected it and it begins to become brittle, dry and cold. It is affecting our strength."
"Are you so tired? So weak? Persephone has not been lost overlong!"
"With greatest respect, my lady -"
Demeter interrupted. " Do dispense with the formalities. Readily and speedily give me any news that affects my search for my beloved daughter."
"Bounteous Demeter, you punish the earth and you punish it most harshly. It is unbearable and looks to become so very much worse. You feed your anger, your anguish, your grief into it. It screams as you scream inside. It aches with your agony. You allow it to feel your pain too keenly, Lady."
Her face softened. "I allow your kin some respite; I forget you are unlike myself and that your bodies demand rest. Understand, I shall forego my duties as Goddess of the Grain in order to search for my child, I cannot afford to waste time -"
The nymph ventured further. "But time spent tending the earth and crops is not time wasted -"
"All things that distract me from finding precious Persephone is time wasted! This time we use to discuss the matter is time wasted! Whatever agonies my daughter must endure, she must endure more with each passing moment! I cannot waste the tiniest amount of time! She needs me! She needs me more than the crops need my attention and kind ministrations. I will search for her and I shall have no rest until I find her. The mortal lands can survive my absence for a short while. I shall diligently return to my duties once my daughter is safe and happy."
"My lady -"
Demeter gave a slow shake of her head. "Nay. Say no more, nymph. I know your concerns for they are mine also but greater yet are my concerns for my child. Rest, if you must, but it is my command that you give all you have in your waking hours to aid in Persephone's rescue."
"I will do so with all my heart, Lady." The young nymph replied.
"Then leave me and speak no more of this. I shall continue my search." She concluded the conversation, her voice troubled and grave.
The nymph bowed and vanished and Demeter was once more alone and feeling the solitary agony of a mother without her darling child. In this state of grief and determination, surrounded by bitterness, love, fear and hope alike, she abandoned all reason and rationality and strode forward in the musky night air, calling out her child's name. No, she vowed. She could never stop until her sweet Persephone was with her and safe from harm once more. She did not notice the small flower at her feet begin to wither and decline in its own tiny, starving agony.
* * * * *
The darkness was not a darkness Persephone's eyes could eventually get used to. No matter how many times she tried to breed bravery within her heart, the chilling darkness would slash through her courage effortlessly. She shivered, and unconsciously stepped a little closer to her husband. The only sign that betrayed that he noticed this was the tiniest glow of warmth in his striking blue eyes.
They had walked together in silence since leaving her room. She had questions she fiercely burned to ask, but her resentment of this held her back. They stopped at a balcony, overlooking much of the dreary, dead land. Hades hoped to explain much of it to her, hoped that she would begin to feel awe, begin to appreciate the magnitude of what he offered her. But it struck fear and disgust deep in her heart. Oh, how she missed the light! How she needed to see but a single flower!
"My Lord Hades?" Her gentle voice was quiet and timid, yet somehow brave and searching.
"Yes, sweet Persephone?" he replied. Each time she spoke to him (with that maddeningly gentle voice!), new hope, new warmth was born in him.
The dense silence of the realm in which she resides absorbed her into it. She thrust her lower lip out, putting her chin up assertively as she looked at him. She was determined to speak. What little, false, lights there were in the halls of Hades' grand abode caught the line of her jaw and emphasised the pearl beauty of her skin.
"I dislike it here. It is too dark, too terrible. I do not want to live here."
He turned his face away from her. "I know. I know that you are unhappy. I understand your feelings."
She shook her head, her rich curls swaying out of their elaborate wiring a little more. "No, no - you misunderstand." She said in a glowing rush. "I was about to ask you, why is it that you chose to dwell here, in the company of shadows? You seem to long for warmth and brightness so fervently - why is it that you chose this tomb as your domain?"
He looked at her, surprised. He blinked, shocked that she could show any curiosity about him. She was still walking, trying to ignore his scrutiny - it still clearly made her uncomfortable, in fact, every time she saw him looking upon her intently, she would tremble and look frightened. And yet, he saw the open honesty of her question in her eyes. She always looked so earnest. It moved him.
His voice was grave. "I did not choose."
"What happened?"
"After the defeat of the Titans -"
"Oh! My mother has told me this tale of the war against the Titans, and how she was swallowed by her father, the Lord Cronos, as an infant! Athena told me the tale of how the three great realms were divided - I remember now! - although my mother is a better storyteller, I believe. I prefer the way she told it." She said delightedly, her face brightening up.
Hades did not mind her interruption, as the memory had her beaming. He didn't mind that she already knew the tale, to see her momentary happiness was reward enough. Of course, he somewhat doubted Persephone's fervent belief that Demeter was a greater mistress of the spoken story than wise Athena, he made no comment, instead taking joy from the brightness and freedom of her smile.
But of course, she fell silent, her cheeks flushed slightly with embarrassment for interrupting him, and the colour faded entirely from her cheeks as she remembered her mother. Her mother, who had embraced her. Her mother, who had told her tales and stories of her great family. Her mother, who she might never see again. The ache of her loss, her alienation, her sorrow had flown away to circle her overhead for a brief moment, but now they came tumbling down back towards her. The blow when that loss struck her once more, was difficult to bear whilst remaining perfectly composed. She hated herself for having forgotten her mother and her world, even for a few brief moments. She felt tears pressing.
Hades spoke again, before she could fully sink into silence again. "Are you well, Persephone?"
"No." She said childishly, her voice shaken and thick, as though she was holding back a tide of tears.
"Do not cry, Persephone. Please, do not cry."
"But I want to go home!"
"Would you like me to continue?" he asked, his tone kind.
She snapped her head up and scrutinised him. She looked pensive, behind the frightened tearfulness. She thought of him, of her curiosity and it made her courageous once more.
She gave a wan imitation of a smile. "Yes. No, wait. No. No, I do not desire it, thank you."
Hades said nothing, but nodded in acceptance. His face betrayed no emotion.
Persephone faltered, having no wish in her to hurt his feelings, only to spare her own. "You see, I already know the tale - I do not wish to hear it once more. My mother was the last one to tell me the story and I want it to remain so. It is a precious little something that I have left of her; my memories of her warmth and love. I do not want to hear her telling of it replaced by your own."
Persephone paused, thinking of Hades, and of her mother. She considered apologising to him, but decided against it. Still, she glanced at him, scanning his face for an outward sign of any reaction to her words. She was uncertain what to call the face that looked back at her through the pale darkness.
Hades was hurt but not overly so, for her was soon lost in his own thoughts. He had not spoken of how he had earned his kingdom until now, nor considered ever letting a single soul know of it from his own perspective. He became lost to the throes of memories, to the bitterness of ancient regrets and despair. He remembered how full of hope and dreams he had been - if only he picked the correct straw, then all could be his. The heavens and earth, expansive, glorious, bright, as well as boughs of fresh, innocent life, all the glory and all the potential. . .everything it could have been his. If not, then deep, unfurling, temperamental and beautiful oceans and waters of unending blue could have been his. But no, his luck had been less. Zeus inherited the greatness of heaven and earth, Poseidon inherited the kingdom within the waves, and Hades, unfortunate Hades, had inherited the darkness of the Underworld.
He had never lamented, never cursed his luck, never cursed his fortunate brothers. He had instantly resigned himself to his destiny and pushed down all sadness, regret and longing. He had even shown more grace than the blessed Poseidon, who had sulked and raged at not winning Olympus, oblivious to his other brother's greater misfortune. Now, he began sinking beneath those thoughts, those long-buried regrets and secret sorrows. The enormity of that day now fully hurled itself upon his mind, as he thought how very different things could have been. For the first time, that knowledge haunted him.
Persephone noticed this change in him, she had sensed him become morose and sink in to grim thoughts and feelings. She thought it her own fault and felt instantly remorseful and wanted to make amends.
"My Lord Hades? Are you well? I did not wish to offend you, nor harm your heart. I am sorry." She said and hesitantly, timidly touched his arm, lost under swathes of black robes, with her dainty hand.
He turned towards her. The sudden sadness in his eyes made her sympathetic soul ache. She retracted her hand and held it her own once more.
"What are you feeling?" she asked searchingly.
He did not know how to answer her and before he could form and answer, she ventured, guessing his thoughts.
"How did you feel about your fate, my Lord?" she enquired quietly.
"It is my fate, my destiny. It is eternal and unshakeable."
"Shall I tell you my thoughts?"
He looked at her deeply. "I would dearly like that, sweet Persephone."
"My Lord, I think you are sad."
Silence was the only answer she received.
"My Lord? Are you sad?"
He disliked denying her answers, but the subject made him uncomfortable and that was answer enough for the innocent Spring Goddess. He resented being so reticent, when she was taking the incredible effort to speak to him. It should have been all he desired - his beloved Persephone was speaking to him with sympathy, friendliness and understanding, she was eager to learn about him, and he returned her goodness with cold silences. He was wasting a perfect chance to show her how deeply she was loved, to show her why he deserved her golden love in return.
"You are sad. I know it."
"Ah. As you are sad, my Persephone?"
Was this what she was trying to do? Was she, by bringing up his own sadness at living in such a dark realm, attempting to convince him to release her?
"No."
He looked at her sharply. Had she read his very thoughts has they were born in his mind?!
"No, my Lord." She continued. "I do not think that your sorrow is the same as mine."
Ah. So read his mind she had not accomplished. It was merely a misunderstanding, a misinterpretation of her words, on his part and nothing more. Yet, her words interested him greatly. The gentle green of her eyes burned with a compassionate, almost tender flame. More than beautiful, it was awe-inspiring.
She spoke again, nervous of any attempt to understand him or sympathise him, though that did not stop her from saying that which she needed to say. "My sadness is the sadness of one torn from their element, from all I loved and was and thrust into a place of despair and horror. I have been ripped away from my strength, my lifeline. I am alone and weak without my mother, our bond. . .I miss her terribly."
"I understand your pain, dear Persephone."
"I believe you wish to, and that you see my suffering, but I do not believe you understand, or can ever understand it. If you did understand the agony the agony I suffer lost and without her in such terrifying darkness, then you would understand me."
"Persephone -"
"No, I do not wish to discuss that! That was not my wish! I know you will refuse me, no matter how I plead. It is quite hopeless."
"Persephone. . ." he said gently, almost hating her for making him feel such unjust torment. But he could not feel any bitterness towards her, only love. He hated himself even more for giving her cause for such grief. And yet it was a torture to have a queen he adored who would never return the feeling.
"Let me say what I intended to say, then I will hold my peace, if you so desire. I have told you of my own sadness. I think you are sad, my Lord Hades, but your sadness is different to mine. Your sadness, I think, comes from your dreams of more being rejected, the sadness of one unable to stop how their character is moulded by their destiny. You see the darkness around you and then you see it inside you, as a part of you, as what you are - and you loathe and fear it."
Though he said nothing, he was moved. She had seen what he had not even dared look upon inside himself. He felt as though she was still reaching inside him, her small hand touching his heart, warming it. He looked at her, her open, trusting, faithful face, glowing with innocence. He was helpless.
Knowing not what to do or say to show his feelings, he followed the natural course of his instincts and took a step forward towards her. She sprang back in shock and turned away, her eyes sad and downcast. She had no wish to be cruel. She felt unhappy for turning away from him, yet at the same time, she could not suffer the sickening terror of being any closer to him. She still felt the imprint of his merciless arm around her waist, binding her to him and stealing her away from her light. She still felt the ugly chill of his lips on hers, the night of their cursed marriage. She paled in horror at the memory.
But another memory flourished - the memory of beautiful blue eyes, full of light and emotion and truth, so unlike this entire dead world. It was a strange comfort, though she did not fully understand it.
"Persephone," Hades said "do not speak of sadness. I accept my destiny, as I did those many centuries past. I chose my straw and in that, I chose my fate. Had my decision been different, then my fate would be altered. But it is as it is - there is no changing it. To think about such things is what brings true sadness, my sweet bride, not acceptance or resignation."
"But it is so dark here, so awful!" she cried.
"It may be dark, but it is a great realm, to rival that of Zeus. There are worlds within worlds here. It is a most magnificent kingdom, Persephone, and I am even king to all the riches the bountiful earth has to offer. As Lord of the Underworld and God of Wealth, I wield great power and influence; I am not in any way less fortunate than my brothers, to have been given the precious gift of rule of this domain. I am grateful for my destiny to reign here. Even my mighty brothers decided that my situation was agreeable; that the Underworld befitted my own cold, dark and solitary nature."
"No! If you were naturally dark and solitary then the last thing you could have needed was darkness and solitude! You should have been able to come out into the light!"
"Is the light truly so glorious?" he asked.
"I carry it in my heart even as it trembles in fear here." She said, strongly.
"Then it is glorious."
She flinched, still uncomfortable with him saying such things to her. She had never set out to appear beautiful. She had simply blossomed without being at all aware of it. She knew not how to warm the blood of men, nor did she care to know. Such things only confused her.
"Persephone," he spoke "you must understand, that in this darkness is loneliness for which your light is the only balm. I love you, as I have since I first saw such a soul shine upon me. If you could only let your sorrow die and embrace this kingdom and my loving heart, then you will know happiness. Your presence gives brightness and life to this dreary world, for your laughter to ring through these lonely halls would make the Underworld a paradise."
"I can never appreciate it, my Lord. I shall ask you to return me again and again, each day. I do not want to live here."
"Yet you asked to see more of our realm. Have you changed your mind?"
She was reminded again of her purpose, the mission she had assigned herself. Her heart shook with the force of her sympathy for the dead souls as trapped here as she was. Persephone did not tell Hades that the reason she had showed eagerness to learn of the Underworld was because she felt an affinity for the souls wandering there, not from any resignation to her situation (she refused to think of it as her fate!). The thought that she could say so out of spite never even occurred to her.
"No." she answered, not without feeling a pang of guilt. "My mind is unchanged. Please allow me to explore this dark realm. There is much I feel I need to see with my own eyes."
"Would you desire my company, Persephone?" He asked, unwilling to escort her if it made her so uncomfortable and fearful.
She was surprised that he had asked, that he had given her the option, rather than insisting that they travel together. She was grateful. This time, her smile was not forced.
"Yes, if it does not trouble you. I would like to know of your duties."
His smile was a hesitant, self-doubting thing, almost as though it feared emerged from worry of mockery. He said nothing, but the look in his eyes puzzled her, as if she was a most precious, cherished treasure. He walked and kindly indicated for her to follow, that she was safe from the darkness at his side. She followed, as they departed the lonely balcony and twisted through the desolate corridors.
She was walking through the dark halls of Hades' (and hers, she remembered with a quiet sense of totality) castle, about to see her domain, and grateful for the fact that she didn't have to walk alone. Even the presence of her captor was preferable to the waking nightmare of having to brave the darkness alone. Curiously, she looked up at him, wondering how he could stand it. Looking at him, he seemed so dark, so stern, so cold. She could hardly believe that there was any love in him. And yet, she had seen a tender, guarded heart when first she met him. The very fact that she was trapped at his side was living proof of a nature more passionate than any could ever have guessed. His deep blue eyes were glittering with life and emotion none had ever credited him with. She wondered why.
"Have you ever fallen in love before, my Lord?" she asked, unsure of why she had done such a thing. She did not know if she wanted an answer. She was awkward and gauche in her handling of the fact that he professed such love for her.
He looked upon her with something she couldn't understand. Once again, the pale smile appeared.
"No, Persephone. It has always been you."
She made no reply, but continued following him, subdued in many thoughts. Persephone began to feel her heart spill over with cold dread at the prospect of venturing out into the Underworld. Her own nature, the virtues and flaws of her personality encouraged her towards courage, to see this un- land, to learn what she could, to bring brightness to it, to help others. But fear still had her tight in its sway.
The presence of Hades at her side both comforted and terrified her - to not be alone and unloved made the darkness an easier burden to bear, but her deep-reaching and instinctive fear and uneasiness of him, of all he was capable of, frightened her. In the blackness, a small sense of conflict was born.
The worst fear that preyed on her mind was how much worse the outside of the cold walls must be. And the castle itself frightened her beyond words! How much worse it would be once the pair of them left its grand, black walls. This was her own decision, she reminded herself, but she was sure that, despite her most desperate and brave wishes, she would never cope. The darkness was too much.
Retrieved from her reverie with cold, sharp immediacy, she glanced around, muted by a sense of awe and horror. It seemed to go on forever! Was there no end to it, no end to the fear, to the darkness? She seemed little more than a frightened and overwhelmed child. She caught a thick strand of her chestnut hair in her hair and wound it around her index finger nervously. The darkness stretched, expanded, thickened and deepened. The castle seemed to be as great and unending as the misery of death. Indeed, the castle was immense; there existed room after room after room through corridors, cloisters, tucked away in towers, or hidden in the more shadowed parts of the castle. And most rooms were unused and had not been used for as long as the Lord Hades could remember.
It seemed so strange to her, such a vast home to be so empty. Every inch of Sicily had been filled with love, warmth, fun her mother's presence and memories. She had never been truly alone. For a moment, she thought that it must be terribly lonely to have a huge but empty castle all to oneself. But how she could be expected to make any difference to it was quite beyond her. She suddenly longed for the ability to make it bright and full of warmth and song and laughter. For a wild, benevolent moment, she even - especially, perhaps - wanted to bring light to Hades, despite everything, as he seemed to long for it and seemed so sad in the dark. But as the only audible sounds being the hush of death and her own vulnerable breathing, it seemed an impossible dream.
They turned a corner together, looking almost like the perfect Lord and Lady and descended down a nightmarish spiral of treacherous onyx steps. She didn't trust them to keep her safe. She didn't trust them not to crumble beneath her and send her plummeting down into some swirling black abyss. She didn't trust anything around her. She didn't trust the Underworld.
"Do not be afraid, Persephone. No harm shall ever come to you." Hades' reassuring whisper shattered the blackness and reminded her of life and warmth, that such things could exist in such a domain. After all, she existed down there, did she not? She was queen here, she thought to herself. And yet, she felt certain that she could not exist in such a realm much longer, that she - like any other living creature - was out of her element here and would eventually wither and die.
She walked through the corridors, wary of the penetrating emptiness, the consuming blackness, the harrowing chilliness, and the frightful shadows that clung to the dead walls and leapt at her aura of light whenever she passed. Hades himself saw how her aura of life attracted them to her the way the scent of human blood attracted terrible beasts. The black shades leapt and darted at her light, greedily lapping up what they could, and she was helpless against them, despite being their queen.
He stopped and spoke. "Persephone, you must not fear them. They mean you no harm."
"But they try to consume what little light I have; they weaken me."
Her took her dainty hands in his own. "Let me show you how to dismiss the shadows."
"I can dismiss them?"
His voice was intense, gentle and wise. "You are their queen. They exist to serve you. You may command them to leave you and never trouble you again; they are only under the impression that you welcome them to feast on your light - you must dismiss them."
She was unsure and small. "I-I do not know how."
"Feel your own powers, your own ability, deep within you, the power that can command these shadows, for shadows are all they are."
"How can I command them? I have no power over creatures of darkness, I only know how to bend flowers and nature to my will. I. . .I cannot do this, my Lord."
"Yes, you can." He said warmly, his voice moving through her.
Her voice and mouth shook. "How? I have not the power."
"You have all the power you need, sweet Persephone. In your spirit exists life, spark, potential - trust me, I can help you use it."
She was wary, but somehow, she felt it best to put her trust in him. She nodded and closed her eyes. She felt his presence keenly, felt his will guide her own.
"Now, Persephone. . .feel as you feel when you create flowers, when you allow them to lean toward the sun and blossom. Do you feel that power gather deep within you? Think of these shades as you think of the flowers; for they are no less natural. Do not fear them. Do you feel how your light nurtures them as it nurtures your flowers?"
She trembled. "Yes, yes I do feel it!"
"Now. . .allow yourself to sense their dependence on it, their love of it, their desire to serve it."
She felt her energy gently pinioning outwards, gently touching each shadow. She felt how they served her. Without needing further instruction, she hesitantly but confidently, allowed a fraction of her will to gather up above them. She let her wishes be know through it. She felt them stop, she felt them acknowledge her.
"Do you feel it?" Hades asked, surprised how she quickly, how naturally she had advanced alone. His admiration of her grew and he felt his own spirit channel such affection around her.
He spoke. "Now, dismiss them."
The words echoed in her mind. Dismissed. . . And with that, they were gone, and her light was renewed. She felt stronger, braver, as if she had touched something within herself that she had never encountered before, as if something new and alive in her was beginning to move. It was a new kind of life for her. New life, found in the depths of Underworld.
She opened her eyes to see Hades' eyes. He looking at her with such affection and admiration that it warmed her. She felt pleased that she had succeeded, joyous at his confidence in her, grateful for his aid. Slowly, she smiled at him with kindness. Her smile was full of the light of the sun, it seemed, for it still amazed him. For her to smile upon him so was such a gift, such an honour! For a moment, all loneliness and longing vanished and he was content.
Persephone noticed that her hands were still in his and starting, she withdrew them, again feeling confused and lost. Though this time the darkness did not reclaim her.
"Thank you." She whispered.
He nodded silently and continued walking. However, his presence seemed to linger beside her, almost comfortingly. He sensed that she did not want to extend the moment and yet love and hope swelled in him. The smile on her face, that had for a rare moment, touched her eyes and heart fascinated him. How he longed for her to accept him, to love him!
Persephone walked, feeling a little happier now. For a moment, the despair slid from her, inching off a little, allowing her to see and breathe. Hades' strange eyes still baffled her, how could such light, such rich, tangible colour and texture exist in the Underworld? And in the eyes of its dread ruler, no less? Playfully, she wondered what would be best to compare them too: a stream? The big blue sky? A blue flower of particular depth and prettiness? None seemed to satisfy her innocent musings.
That the thought brought her pain, following soon after. She had felt such warmth for a moment, it reminded her of the bond she shared with her mother. She reached down their golden bond, desperately calling out once more. The cold and the empty silence that greeted her instead or enveloping love, strength and security made her recoil in fear and anguish. It was like a slap in the face. She called out to her mother inwardly again and again. How she missed her mother! How she needed her comforting spirit! How she wanted to go home!
At the end of a huge corridor, Hades stopped and gazed upon her expectantly. The darkness of his hair and robes, the pallor of his skin and the living, breathing colour shining in his eyes startled her. She looked at him, her eyes wide and uncertain.
"Gentle Persephone," he asked "are you ready to behold our great kingdom?"