Destroyer of Light

by Rachel Alexander

  The gardener swallowed. “Then… if you don’t mind my asking, Lady Nyx, what are you planning to do about it?”

  The goddess gave him a serene smile and held out the pomegranate for Askalaphos. He gingerly took it and cradled it close.

  “Persephone ate six seeds from this pomegranate. You yourself witnessed it, son of Orphne.” She drifted slowly upward. “So it is not what I plan to do, Askalaphos, but what you will do.”

  “Anything, milady,” he said nervously.

  “Meet my eldest son at the river. And go quickly. You don’t have much time.”

  ***

  “One obol… one obol… one obol…” Shades filed into Charon’s empty vessel. The Boatman’s incessant request for fares was the only thing Hermes could hear. The God of Thieves turned ghostly white and felt like he was about to collapse. What was to become of him? Burn… flay… geld… the words cycled again through his mind.

  “You have nothing to fear,” Persephone said softly as Charon pushed off from the shore with another boatload of shades. She released Hermes’s wrist from her grasp and he let out a breath he’d forgotten he was holding.

  The Messenger stood stock still on the water’s edge as Hades’s chariot thundered to the ground. Aidoneus pulled the reins and brought it to a sudden halt, then stepped off the back. The God of the Dead wasn’t dressed for battle. He still wore his himation and crown of poplar leaves instead of his greaves and cuirass and Helm of Darkness. He had no sword. Hermes cautiously relaxed.

  Aidoneus walked to the small gathering of gods by the Styx. Shades all around them fell to their knees before the King and Queen. He stopped in front of Hermes. “I’ve heard stories about you stealing chariots. I assume you know how to drive one of these?”

  Hermes gulped in air around the fig-sized lump in his throat. “Y-yes, my lord.”

  “Good. You will take Persephone and Hecate to the world above in my chariot. It will be faster. Faster than even you, as you well know.”

  Hermes nodded.

  “Heed my words and wishes, Messenger. Regardless of what you were told, Persephone returns as a queen. My queen. Bring the cart and horses to me once you are done. Is that understood?”

  Hermes nodded again in affirmation, dumbstruck and relieved. Hades curtly acknowledged him, then approached Hecate.

  “Stay with her and keep her safe?” he said softly. “Please?”

  “Of course, Aidoneus,” Hecate said, and embraced him. He stood like a plank, unmoving. She drew back and looked up at him, her eyes swimming. “My dear child, don’t lose hope so quickly. We have not yet reached the widest part of the river. Much remains of today.”

  He wrinkled his eyebrows, perplexed.

  “I expect to see you soon,” she said with a nod. Aidon cleared his throat, correctly guessing what Hecate meant.

  He turned slowly toward his wife, his queen, the woman he had loved and longed for through half his life, who stood proud and tall, trying to keep her lower lip from quivering. Aidoneus gathered her up in his embrace, tilting her back until her weight was supported by his arms alone, her neck cradled in one strong hand. His mouth brushed over hers, then locked against her lips. Persephone touched his face, and then smoothed back the black curls of his hair with her fingers. One of her digits wound around the lock that was never properly caught up when he tied back his hair. She mewled and shuddered, fearing that this was their last kiss. Don’t be sad, my love, his voice said in her mind. This is not goodbye.

  Persephone smiled against his lips. Aidoneus would follow her; she knew he would. She melted, opening to him, her tongue twining against his. He deepened their kiss with a soft and hungry growl. He drew her closer and she could feel the heat of his body and the beat of his heart through his heavy cloak. His mouth claimed hers harder and she wondered if he could taste pomegranate in their kiss.

  Aidoneus pulled away from her lips reluctantly and spoke low, staring directly at her, soaking up his last vision of her in his arms. “Go, Persephone, to your dark-robed mother. Go…” he swallowed, willing himself to continue. Aidon forced a smile and brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Do not be too upset. Take heart. Be strong. No matter what they say I will always be your husband. You will always, always be my wife… my queen…”

  Persephone framed his face with her hand again, brushing away a tear that escaped his eye.

  …And I will be right behind you.

  Her heart leapt into her throat and she tried to keep herself from smiling. Her eyes gave her away only to him. Aidon lifted her upright and reluctantly released her.

  “Go…” Aidon whispered.

  Persephone took a step back from him and walked to the chariot. Hecate offered her hand, and she stepped up into the basket. Hermes shook the reins and they were off, a thin cloud of dust twisting in their wake as they distanced themselves from the river. Soon the wheels and coursers lifted off the ground and the trailing dust was replaced by dark, ethereal smoke.

  Aidoneus watched them until the crown of asphodel on her head and the glint of moonlight from the chariot wheels disappeared into the dark caverns beyond. He waited until he could hear the horse’s hooves no more.

  Something inside of him gave way and he let out a sharp exhale of air he’d been holding back. It burned like acid. His throat tightened and he doubled over. The sounds around him were unbearable. He could hear the souls in Asphodel crying and wailing. Cerberus whined as though he were injured, and he could even hear the Keres in Tartarus gnashing and screaming, unable to fathom that their queen was gone. He joined in their grief, his sobs coming slowly at first as he tried to hold them back, then wrenching his whole body. He dropped to his knees, lost.

  He had agreed to witness his wife’s last plea with Zeus. But Aidoneus knew Zeus. The King of the Gods wouldn’t let her return with him— not with the lives of all the mortals at stake. If their positions were reversed, Hades wouldn’t either. And Demeter’s stubbornness and resentment knew no bounds. It grew hard to breathe, and he tried to calm himself again and take hold of some sense of order. He dug his fingers into the gray sands and gravel of Chthonia and he tightened his fist until he felt the rocks digging painfully into his skin. He roughly wiped his eyes with his himation and took in a deep breath, letting go of the gravel and brushing the sand off on his thigh. She would need all the strength he had to offer to support her doomed petitioning, and he would need all his resolve to let her go once all reasonable hope was lost.

  Persephone wouldn’t accept it, though. Despite his insistence that she not defy the rules, he was certain he would find her stepping through the ether and into their bedroom during some moonless night in the world above, and that she would be punished for it. He closed his eyes, trying to will away visions of what the gods of Olympus might do to her to keep her from disobeying and rebelling.

  He listened to the pleas and cries of Asphodel. This realm needed a Queen. It needed her more that it needed him, in truth. Demeter wouldn’t let her return here. A dark truth crossed his mind. Demeter wouldn’t let her return to him. He opened his eyes again, and surveyed his realm— her realm. He’d follow her, but when he returned he would have to make sure that she wouldn’t be tempted to come back to him.

  He thought about Erebus. Aidoneus had never met Nyx’s consort— he had become the darkness while Hades was still imprisoned, and had done so to save his children from Kronos’s wrath after their rebellion, aeons before the Titanomachy, had failed.

  Hades would have to do the same to save his wife. He smiled ruefully. His beloved was so wonderfully obstinate and would attempt again and again to journey back to him. And back to her throne-- this realm needed Persephone as its queen. But Demeter’s wrath was fixed against him, and always would be. It dawned on him: both of these things needed to be, so he would simply remove himself from the paradox.

  Aidoneus shook his head. Persephone would be inconsolable, and furious at him as well.

  Perhaps he could find some way to s
till be with her once he was one with his realm. Erebus wound himself about his lady wife, eternally embracing her. Aidoneus knew it needed to be done as soon as he returned. He wouldn’t risk the possibility that she would be punished on his account. Chthonia would have its Queen, Demeter would have her assurance that he would never touch her again, and all would be right. His purpose had already been fulfilled, he mused. He had helped depose the Titans, and he had given the Underworld its rightful ruler. His usefulness to this cosmos was surely ended.

  His resolve renewed, Aidoneus took a deep breath and stretched his hand out toward the caverns ahead.

  “Aidoneus! My king!”

  He heard his name called faintly behind him, almost lost amidst the weeping shades and his three-headed hound’s endless yowling. The voice cracked and called out again.

  “Lord Hades! Wait! Wait!”

  Had someone read his thoughts? Were they determined to keep him from following in Erebus’s footsteps?

  “Aidon! Not yet!” A second voice above the din, this time Charon’s.

  Aidoneus turned toward the Styx, squinting in the darkness at a faint lamp hovering above the water. He heard the oar plunging and splashing, ripples forming all around the boat, its wake cutting deep into the water. Aboard the boat was Askalaphos, jumping up and down.

  “My lord!”

  “Stop hopping around, you idiot! Do you want to tip us over?” Charon hissed at him.

  Aidoneus ran for the water’s edge. As he drew nearer he saw the gardener hold something aloft that stopped him in his tracks. “Oh gods above, sweet one, you didn’t…” he muttered to himself. He remembered the berry sweet taste of her kiss, and the heady scent, almost like wine, mingled with hers in his very clothes. “Why didn’t she tell me?”

  Askalaphos held a pomegranate. A well-eaten pomegranate, at that: its flesh was torn and seeds were missing. The gardener hopped out of the boat too soon and landed almost waist deep in the water, wading into the shallows and up to the shore. His teeth chattered from the cold. “L-Lord Hades! The Queen… she ate six s-seeds!”

  Askalaphos prostrated himself and held the fruit up for the Lord of the Underworld’s inspection. Aidon grabbed it from his hand, wide-eyed. This certainly wasn’t the pomegranate he’d eaten yesterday morning. This was new. And it was hers. “Persephone…” He lifted Askalaphos up by his chlamys, almost shaking him. “Are you certain?”

  “Yes, milord.”

  “Are you absolutely certain you saw her eat them?”

  “Yes! Milord I’m sorry, I wasn’t supposed to see. I mean, she probably didn’t want anyone to see, but…” his excuses faded to noise in the background as Aidon turned the fruit over in his hands, his heart fluttering at the sight of it. He tried to keep from smiling or laughing or shouting joyfully.

  There’s only one way around this, and that is to overthrow the order of things, he had said to her. She had done it! Persephone had found a way to stay with him forever! But at what cost? It was unchangeable and unbreakable, no matter what Zeus or Demeter had to say. This was a law of nature— of the cosmos itself. Anyone who ate in the Underworld was bound to it. Even the Fates couldn’t change this, though he was convinced that they had seen it coming. Persephone must return to him. But they weren’t out of danger yet. What if Demeter didn’t relent despite this evidence? Certainly even the thinnest sense of self-preservation would stop her from destroying them all. He would concern himself with that once he got there. Right now he needed to reach his wife. Though the key to ending their grief lay in the palm of his hand, Aidon’s mind repeated only one thing. Why didn’t you tell me?

  Askalaphos continued to tell his tale, something about tripping over a sheep, and something else about Nyx before Hades interrupted him and thrust the pomegranate back into his hands.

  “You’re coming with me, Askalaphos.”

  “What? I—” The Lord of the Dead grasped his shoulder and started walking away from the shore, pulling Askalaphos along. “Where?”

  “To the world above!” Aidoneus shouted at him and marched forward. Warmth and hope, dread and anxiety warred within him. “Hold on to that pomegranate as tightly as you can. For the love of the Fates, do not drop it!”

  “The world above? I’ve never been…” Askalaphos started. Hades loomed past the shades and it was all Askalaphos could do to keep up with his long strides. “Milord! How will we get there?”

  Aidoneus didn’t answer the gardener, but hoisted him up under one arm. The other hand reached forward as he walked toward the caverns. Dark smoke swirled about them with every step, and they were gone.

  ***

  The chariot’s great wheels left the ground as soon as they rolled past the entrances to the Underworld. The horses galloped silently; smoke rolling under them and marking their path. Persephone looked back until her husband faded from view, and until the wan light of the moon shining through the Styx shone no more. She felt him falter, felt his despair even from here, and wished she could go back and hold him and tell him what she’d done.

  Persephone lost her footing and gripped the side of the chariot again as they went around a bend. The roads to the world above twisted every which way through the earth. When she had been taken down here, Hades had opened great gaps in the earth itself— a direct route from Nysa through molten fires that destroyed her thin corporeal clothing. This journey would not be so short. These were pathways that had been carved long ago, when the cosmos itself was formed; aeons of dripping of water and welling springs had done the rest.

  “I can’t see a thing now!” Hermes whined.

  “They know the way,” the Goddess of the Crossroads replied calmly. “But if it will steady your driving and not knock us about like acorns in a bowl…”

  A four-lamped torch grew in Hecate’s hand and the ends lit with golden orange light. Persephone blinked, then squinted and saw stalagmites hanging overhead, and caves and crevices emptying onto roads from the world above. Through them poured the souls of the newly dead, making the days-long trudge to Chthonia, answering the call of the Styx now that they had completed their journey through the living world from womb to tomb. She thought about the poor Eleusinian bride and wished she could see all of them safely to Asphodel, but that would be her husband’s work.

  Hermes gripped the thick leather reins and steadied his feet on the cart. “There must be a thousand entrances! How will we know which is the right one? We could end up in Aegyptus for Fate’s sake!”

  “Then tell them to go to Eleusis,” Persephone said, suddenly feeling queasy. Dull pain began to radiate through her from her knees through her lower back and all the way to the tips of her breasts. “You yourself have gone and come back from there, haven’t you?”

  “Well, yes, but there’s one way down and many ways up, and I’ve never really cared where I’ve surfaced, before. Olympus is never far away…”

  “Then do as the Queen bade you, and tell them to follow the path to the Corn Mother!” Hecate stated, annoyed.

  Hermes shrugged and flicked the reins. “To Demeter!” he shouted at the shadowy beasts. One of them nickered and turned its head left and the others followed suit, hard and fast. Persephone was knocked into Hecate, who gripped her side.

  She felt another flash of pain low in her belly and winced, sucking in air through her teeth. Hecate thinned her lips and looked down at Persephone. “It has begun.”

  “What has?” Persephone said, grasping her abdomen.

  “The earth is righting itself now that one of its goddesses returns.”

  Persephone knitted her brow at Hecate’s words and grasped the chariot with one hand, her lower belly with the other. She closed her eyes. Was Aidon behind them? Would he come? She swore she could feel him close by, but didn’t turn to look. She didn’t want to alert Hermes or Hecate to their plan. The feeling of her husband’s presence coursed through her, gripped her with a surge of energy and made her ache sharply where they had last joined together.

  She c
ried out and felt Hecate stroke her shoulder through the pain. Persephone felt light headed and gritted her teeth. The chariot plunged through a tunnel and the cart steadied itself. She doubled over in pain again.

  Persephone smelled earth. Its warmth and richness filled all of her senses, the raw energy of the source of life flowing through her. She had been away from it for so long that it was overwhelming. The pomegranate grove had been her only source of this scent and sense below, and it was so much more potent this close to the living world.

  This wasn’t the cold, sterile ground of Chthonia but fresh soil and humus, aeons of plants and creatures living and dying, twisted together with the dormant roots of trees and vines and flowers waiting to awaken. Her husband’s essence encircled her and she felt searing heat radiating from her womb. The cavern narrowed and the winds from the world above guttered Hecate’s torches. The walls closed in so tight around them that she could almost touch the roots of the trees. When she did reach for them, Persephone felt another sharp twinge of pain and felt a small trickle of hot liquid from her core.

  No…

  It wasn’t borne from pleasure. In the dark, she quickly reached behind the skirts of her peplos and touched her lower lips. Persephone brought her hand away and rubbed thin liquid between her fingers.

  No, Fates please…

  A faint light bounced through the caverns ahead of them and Persephone looked down at her fingers. They were dark. The light increased and she could see color. Red.

  Blood is a dangerous thing in Asphodel.

  Moon blood. Persephone saw the image blur as water filled her eyes. It was as Hecate had said on the boat. She carried no child. She never had. While they were in the world below, she never would. She squeezed her eyes shut and felt a few tears streak by her face. Her stained hand balled into a fist and she dug her nails into the palm of her hand. She willed herself to not cry.

  He was following, close. She could feel Aidoneus around her and through her. She dared not look behind. They rounded another bend and a rail of light pierced the dark, almost blinding her.