Destroyer of Light

by Rachel Alexander

  “Does it have anything to do with the celebration last night?” he asked with a slight smirk that reminded her for a moment of his younger brothers.

  “In a way.” She bit her lip. “Yes, in fact. Absolutely and completely.” Persephone smiled and leaned back with a sigh. “I’m in love, Charon.” She stopped, tears welling in her eyes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be making a scene.”

  “And why ever not? Should our Lady not make it known that she loves our Lord?”

  “I know. I only—” she sighed. “I love him so much. I can’t explain it without feeling ridiculous or wanting to burst apart at the seams. Do I sound foolish to you?”

  “Of course not.” Charon smiled. “To hear you express your joy and know that is it returned… what could make my heart happier, my queen?”

  As they retraced the path she had first taken across the Styx over a month ago, she saw the multitudes at the far shore. The asphodel that had once grown there were long gone, dug up by hungry shades who couldn’t yet fathom they were dead. They had no way to know consuming the asphodel roots made no difference now. Persephone shook her head. “So much suffering. So much needless suffering…”

  “Suffering is the mortal condition, dear lady,” Charon said as his oar lapped gentle waves against the boat, “and all reach this shore, inevitably. It’s been this way for aeons— ever since mortals came to be. They come, they go, and I bring them home so they can be reborn again.”

  “The shades are at peace once they are a part of our realm.” Our realm. The last time she sat in Charon’s boat she’d scarcely imagined ever referring to the Underworld as her home, much less taking responsibility for it. “But it’s not their suffering I speak of. It’s the ones you never get to see, Charon— the loved ones they must leave behind. Mothers. Children. Friends.”

  Charon merely nodded. Persephone could see the contemplation on his face and knew that he didn’t truly understand what she meant. He might have heard the same words from a shade— from countless shades— explaining what it meant to leave those they loved behind, but the mourning of living mortals lay beyond his understanding. “And you mean to set all of this right?”

  “I must,” she replied. “I know that because of everything that’s happened, your family doesn’t look on Demeter too kindly.”

  “Humph,” he grunted, darkly.

  “I know her, though; she’s my mother. She’s grieving. She grieved for Eleusis after they burned down her temple a century ago, and the fields throughout Attica didn’t grow anything for nearly a month.”

  Charon thinned his lips. “I remember that famine. Not so harsh as this; none have ever been so harsh as this. But we had more souls waiting for passage than I would have liked. Thin. All so thin, just like these. And so soon after Ares’s petty squabble with Athena made such a mess of things…”

  “My mother would only do this if she thought I were in danger, or if she thought I was here against my will. I must tell her that she needs to stop this at once, that I am here of my own free will as Queen, and that I truly love Aidoneus.”

  Charon gave her a dry smile, then faced away from her, looking into the mists of the river.

  “Charon?”

  “Yes, my lady?”

  “Have you ever been in love?” She realized at once that it might have been rude to ask such a thing of the Boatman.

  He read the expression on her face and smiled. “Why fear asking me something like that? In truth, yes— I was once in love.”

  “What was she like?”

  Charon sighed. How many hundreds of aeons has it been? he thought. “This was well before your husband was born. Before Hecate, before Hypnos and Thanatos, even. Back then, the only sons Nyx and Erebus had were Morpheus and me. There were so very few deathless ones then. Consciousness itself, the very idea of existing and being alive— much less gods or nymphs or spirits or whatever we were going to call ourselves— was still new. The woman I loved was older than me.” He chuckled as Persephone’s eyes grew wider. “Hard to imagine, indeed! But she was, just the same. Immortal, like you and I. Of course, nothing mortal existed back then. It was a concept beyond our grasp.”

  Persephone settled onto the bracing and brought her knees to her chest as she listened.

  “Her eyes… the deepest blue you’ve ever seen. Like the bottom of a lake. I could see myself in them. Her hair was black as a raven’s wing, soft, and she dressed in white— always in white… as I once did. Such pure brilliant white that floated about her, as if she were in the water. As though she were the water.” He snorted and a smile curved his lips. “She was skinny, too. A bit too frail to be considered a true beauty, but I quite liked it.”

  “What happened to her?” She asked quietly.

  His smile turned wistful as he looked back at her. “She was only slightly younger than my parents— one of the first born of the Protogenoi, when we were still piecing together how to make more of ourselves… and whether or not we should. Funny enough, she was also one of the first to become one with her divine domain— as my father eventually did.”

  “Were you happy with her?”

  “No,” he said, surprising her. “At least not as much as I had hoped to be.”

  Charon sat down across from Persephone as the boat caught a slow drifting current. He laid his oar across his knees.

  “She loved another. Saw me as a trusted friend and nothing more. Sadly for her, she and her love could never be together.” He looked out at the rocky slopes leading to the mouth of Tartarus and the glow of the Phlegethon. “I believe that was why Styx decided to become one with the river she watched over. Of course, I begged her not to. But after Ouranos claimed power over all of us and created the Golden Men, she saw little reason to cling to a changing world.”

  Persephone sat quietly as Charon leaned over the edge and dipped his hand in the water, small wakes forming behind his skinny fingers. Charon’s eyes met hers.

  “I’ll tell you a secret, Aristi Chthonia, the secret down here, if you asked your husband.”

  She raised an eyebrow and grinned. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with the coins, would it?”

  Charon chuckled. “Aidoneus always wonders what I do with them once I collect them from the shades. Oh, but don’t tell him! It’s one of the last things I still have on your husband. Where do those coins go, hmm? I can’t fly up to the world above and spend them on riotous living. Although I could fly, once…” he drifted off, his eyes dulling for a moment before his wandering mind returned. “Look at me now! I wrap myself in a dusty cloak with no adornment, and my oar is my most treasured possession. I don’t even wear shoes on my feet. I’m a rather boney creature, my queen, and I suppose I’d look rather frightful walking through some sunny agora.” He laughed again, more freely this time.

  She was unsure whether or not to laugh with him.

  “I made a promise, long ago. I told Styx that I would give her everything I had, if only I could have her at my side for all eternity. It was the last time I saw her before she made the river‘s course her own. So to this day, every coin I receive, I give to her. Neither she nor I knew that the Fates would place me here and give me charge over the river lands of Acheron. But I got what I always yearned for in the end, I suppose.”

  She knitted her brow, her eyes cast down.

  “How many others in this cruel cosmos can say they have lived countless aeons never having been parted from their beloved?” he said smiling. Charon leaned over the edge again and stroked the back of his fingers through the water, caressing it, whispering to the surface. “That is one thing I can say. Can’t I, my dear?”

  When his eyes drifted up to meet Persephone’s gaze once more, a tear had rolled down one of her cheeks.

  “Do not be sad for me, my queen. With any luck and by the will of the Fates, you will be with your beloved for just as long.”

  The lapping of the water grew louder against the craft, and the boat scraped against the shoreline before lurching t
o a halt. Persephone stood up carefully, regaining her balance before taking Charon’s proffered hand.

  “Are you sure you’ll be alright, my queen? The stories I’ve heard from the shades…”

  “It’s not going to be the world I left, I know. But trust me, Charon; I’ll be fine.”

  “Trusting you is not my worry. What of those petty gods above?”

  “I am Hades’s Queen,” she said, hopping from the prow to the shore. “That alone should be enough to keep me safe.”

  His jaw set in a grim line for a moment, then he bowed farewell to her. “I’ll be eagerly awaiting your return.” Persephone smiled shyly, and Charon continued. “I shudder to think what a foul mood Aidon will be in while you’re away,” he said, smirking, and she laughed.

  Persephone scanned the shore, seeing the tops of hundreds of heads bowed toward her. The recently arrived shades stood, walking once again toward Charon’s boat.

  “One obol… one obol… one at a time… one obol… a drachma! What did they imagine that would buy you here?…Yes, yes, I’ll take it… one obol…” she heard as he allowed each of them aboard. Persephone walked on, watching shades respectfully lower their heads at her approach. She listened to them whisper amongst themselves. They created a wide berth for her, parting as she walked further up the shore away from the throngs so she could concentrate.

  The dark passageways leading back to the world above stood in front of her. Spirits wandered in, looking around in awe and terror as they took their first steps into the Underworld. A few had coins in their hands, some in their mouths, others removed obols from their eyes to behold the vastness of Chthonia. She felt a cold brush of air on her left and looked to see a soul wandering back toward the passageways. It had become as faint as pale smoke, wandering away as a ghost bound for the world above.

  There was nothing she could do for these newly dead, nor for the lost souls. They were part of Chthonia and would find their way back, or Hermes would return them eventually. She had to concentrate on those she could save in the mortal world and let her husband look after these. Persephone stretched her left hand in front of her and shut her eyes.

  Eleusis—

  “Kore!”

  Persephone’s eyes snapped open. She swore she recognized that voice.

  “My Lady Kore!”

  She glanced to her right and saw a shade running toward her. Persephone held her breath and took a hesitant step back. Did this soul want something from her, like the voices from the Trivium had late last night? She looked side to side, worried she was about to be surrounded by pleading spirits. The female shade stopped several steps away and prostrated herself. Persephone hesitantly reached out and touched her on the shoulder. “How do you know me by that name?”

  The woman raised her head. Their eyes met and Persephone stumbled back.

  “No…”

  “My lady, we worshipped you in Eleusis. I would know the image of our lost Kore anywhere.”

  No, no, gods please no! She cupped her hands to her mouth and her vision blurred behind tears.

  “My lady?”

  Her throat was dry and her heart was beating out of her chest. “You… please, it cannot be you. You couldn’t have died… Please…”

  “I do not mean to trouble you so, my lady… Forgive me, I’ll go.”

  “No; wait!” Persephone cried out. Her chest felt heavy. “I know you.”

  The woman turned to face her, then pushed a lock of black hair from her face. “How could you know someone as humble as me, my lady?”

  “Two months ago. On the day of the full moon… do you remember?”

  “That was…” The shade’s lip trembled and she looked away. “That was my wedding day.”

  8.

  You know as well as I do that Eleusis calls me to bear witness to their marriages, Demeter had told Kore. I can foresee their fates and cannot stop her from passing to the Other Side…

  It was the bride from Eleusis— the one whose marriage she had seen consummated in the wedding tent. Her mother had prophesied her death, but Demeter had thought it would be from bearing children. Little did she know, little did any of them know that it would be because Kore, Persephone, was in Hades. She tried in vain to hold back a sob, her breath shallow and tears running down her face. “I was there.”

  The woman’s eyes widened. “You,” she stammered in shock. The slightest smile lit her face. “I knew it! I told Dimitris the next day that I felt your presence there.”

  “Dimitris?”

  “He’s my husband. He—” she stopped, choking on her words. “He was my husband.”

  Persephone wiped her tears away with the edge of her peplos. “Where is he now?”

  “At home. He— Dimitris had to bury me two days ago. He couldn’t stop crying.”

  “What is your name?”

  “I was called Melia, milady.”

  “How did you know I was there at your wedding?” Persephone choked out.

  “I felt you there. Watching over us. I felt it with every heartbeat. Dimitris didn’t believe me. Especially in the coming week when it grew so cold…”

  “What happened?”

  “The crops outside Eleusis withered overnight. And it was nearly harvest time. Dimitris and I took all we had and journeyed east. Surely Athens would have food, we thought. But it started snowing when we were on the road, slowing us down, and by the time we got there their grain stores were empty.

  “We heard from other travelers that the Lady of the Harvest had returned to Eleusis. We started back almost as soon as we got there, and took the road by the sea. On the way there, we could at least fish. But the trees were frozen too solid to build a fire. Even the withered grasses had been pulled up for fires. Nothing remained. The sea froze

  over—”

  “It… it what?!” Persephone gaped, horrified.

  The shade looked perplexed by Persephone’s ignorance. “Everything is frozen, my lady. The sea, the ground, the air is cold as ice. They can barely dig deep enough to bury the dead. You see all those there?” she said pointing to a group of shades huddled together away from the river. “They don’t even have coins. No one was left in their village to bury them. And they built pyres out of abandoned homes in Athens because their dead were too numerous.”

  Persephone looked away from her. It was so much worse than she had even guessed. She’d expected the land to be brown, stripped of fertility, as it had been when her mother’s temple had burnt down a century ago, but not this. Not a frigid blanket of death covering the earth, with nowhere for the forgotten souls to go once they reached the Styx.

  “Everything above is gray. Nothing but a gray waste. And the ice covers everything else. People fleeing from the north told of great crushing walls of it overtaking mountains…”

  Persephone’s legs wobbled and she stared aghast at the Eleusinian bride. That was why the shades were eating the asphodel. They couldn’t help themselves. More food grew in the world below than in the world above. The Fields must have looked like a paradise compared to the ruined earth. “Please. Tell me more. What happened to you and your husband?”

  “Dimitris… he… I miss him so much,” she said, shaking and wringing her hands. “He’s all alone now. And he tried so hard… so hard to take care of me when I got sick… but it was too late by the time we got back. He refused to send my body with the carts headed for the sea.” She looked away, her throat closed. Persephone’s eyes stung with tears as the Eleusinian bride continued. “He chopped down his family’s old fig tree. Then Dimitris burned it so he could soften the ground enough to bury me properly.”

  Persephone heard other shades wail mournfully as they passed by her, their voices a chorus of sobbing and confusion. Women, men, and children milled about, lost. The shore was empty. Charon’s boat had already departed, laden with souls to ferry to the other side She sputtered another cry and took the Eleusinian woman’s hands. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!”

  “No, my lady, th
is isn’t your fault.”

  “I—”

  “You were stolen. Ravished.”

  Persephone looked up at her in shocked silence.

  “Weren’t you? You wouldn’t have abandoned us, would you?”

  She stayed silent. “I—”

  “But you are going back?”

  “Yes.”

  “You are escaping, then!” Her hand tightened around Persephone’s. “Quick! Let me help you! That is why you are on this side of the River, isn’t it? I can show you the path back to Eleusis!”

  “No, I didn’t escape. This is my home now, and I—” the shade wrenched her hands away from Persephone’s and took a step back, her eyes growing wide. Persephone felt her mouth go dry as fear washed over the woman’s face. Her voice rose, pleading. “You don’t understand. I’m going back to see my mother. But I will return here after I do.”

  “Then you— you did abandon us…”

  “Hades is my husband. I am his queen.”

  “But everything is dying without you!”

  Persephone swallowed. “I know. But I will set it right again—”

  “Destroyer,” the woman whispered, shaking her head and backing away. “Destroyer!”

  “No, please…” Persephone whispered.

  “Destroyer!” another shade wailed as it wandered past. “Destroyer!” “Katastrofeas!” she heard in the common tongue. The voices blended together in Theoi, Attic, Thracian, and other languages. “Despoina, torelle mezenai!” “Persephone!” “Ekeini pou katastrefei to fos!” “Destroyer of Light!” “Perephatta!” “She who destroys the light!”

  They weren’t speaking to her, but around her. It was as though her conversation with the Eleusinian woman had rippled outward, affecting the shades. The shoreline became a shrill chorus accented by wailing and sobbing. Destroyer of light. Ice poured down her spine and Persephone doubled over as though the wind were knocked out of her.

  A balance has existed here for all the years you’ve been alive, Praxidike, Kottos had said. You are the one who transcends and connects the worlds. You are the embodiment of balance…