A frightful question settled heavily on her mind. Where was Death?
15.
Thera was as beautiful as he remembered it. But much had changed in the intervening years. The cliffs were far sheerer than when he’d last seen them. The dropped all the way to the ocean, and part of the island looked like it had collapsed into the sea.
Less than a millennium ago, he’d heard stories of villages obliterated by great waves and molten earth. There had been a glut of new shades that day. In the following year Aidoneus and his court had heard fanciful yarns about a kingdom sinking to its new home below the waves. He’d later learned that the old, fierce empire on Crete, ruled for generations by priestess queens and consort kings, had choked on noxious fumes and been washed away. Minos had wept.
Today, the sky was sapphire blue fading into gold in the west. The setting sun was reflected perfectly in the shallow seas below. There was no special way to get to Thera— it was simply a matter of knowing which road led out where. Every island, every mountain, every valley, and every spring— every place in the sunlit world had a door to the Other Side. All roads led to Chthonia.
It was fortunate that they had chosen this island, he thought. If the journey to the world above caused too many ripples in the ether, their quarry might be alerted to their arrival. They couldn’t afford the month-long chase Sisyphus had given them last time. No one could.
The hosts of Hades had been forced to take the long way in order not to disturb any of the boundaries between worlds, turning a journey of minutes into a full day of walking. Thera was far enough away from Ephyra, but close enough to Hellas that it would allow a short journey.
Aidoneus squinted, and the wind pulled a few more curls of his hair out of place. “I’ve never understood why the sun is always so bright on this island.”
“It is the longest day of the year, my lord. Daylight is different above, especially by the sea. She was a sweet girl, but Hemera was always a bit… theatrical,” Nyx mused with a smile. The shadow of Erebus curled about her, undisturbed by the light or the breeze.
He looked to the west, the last of Hemera’s daylight fading on the horizon. Soon the Tribe of the Oneiroi would be able to rise from beneath the surface and help claim their missing kinsman. Their campaign to rescue him and punish his captor should have been foremost in his mind, but an entirely different matter preoccupied Aidoneus. “I doubt it seems so bright to her.”
“Persephone blossomed fully in the light,” Hecate said, her crimson himation wrapped around her and blowing back in the wind. Tomorrow she would change her robes to black as her final days as the Crone approached. Stringy wisps of her white hair wafted out from inside the hood.
“And then she returned to the light.”
“Your bargain with the Olympians will hold,” Nyx said. “They wouldn’t risk losing us. My son’s capture proves what dire consequences await them when our world is thrown out of balance. And Chthonia will have its Queen.”
“The Pomegranate Agreement isn’t what I’m concerned about,” he said, thinning his lips. “It’s been three months. Nothing from Hermes— not a word from her.”
“You saw the ruin of the world when you came above,” Hecate admonished him. “You know what a precarious state it was in— what she was tasked with repairing.”
“Yes, I know. But she has been back in the world above for longer than she was ever with me. All the aeons of her life were lived up here, but for those two months.” He looked at the sun again, watching it split in half behind a thin cloud and turn vermillion before flashing green against the water and disappearing. “I was here for only ten years. And I know how seductive the world above truly is.”
“Its nectar is not so sweet to her as you think. Her heart is in Hades. The king and his realm. She would not have acted as she did if it were not.” Hecate placed a wrinkled hand on his shoulder. “You underestimate how much she loves you.”
“I only hope you’re right,” he said grimly. He would have to be cautious. Aidon had told his wife that he would come above at his first opportunity. He’d delayed because the winter had made a mess of his kingdom, and now that he was finally going to see her it was with business, not necessarily for her. How angered would she be at him? He’d promised her…
“She dreams of you, my lord,” Morpheus turned to him, his sightless eyes veiled. Hypnos stood beside him, a hand on his brother’s shoulder to guide him across the uneven ground. “I often wondered why you didn’t ask me to send you to her, as you did the first time you saw her.”
“For the same reason I didn’t venture up here myself. Because, my friend,” Aidon said, “if I had gone to her in dreams, I couldn’t have stopped at just one night. And you have your own responsibilities to your world. As do I.”
“I also imagine, my lord,” Morpheus said with the rarest of smiles ticking up the corner of his mouth, “that you might not want me there to guide you together in the dream world? That your activities wouldn’t be as… tame… as the first time I sent you?”
“No, I assure you, they would not.” Five months ago, Morpheus’s implication would have angered or embarrassed Aidoneus. Instead, the Lord of the Underworld gave the assembled hosts a half smile. He felt no shame now for desiring his queen.
“The Erinyes and the judges guard our home and we are in the world above now, Aidoneus,” Nyx said. “If you wonder whether or not she still wants you, answer your own question. Reach out to her.”
He nodded and looked about, trying to get his bearings, to speak to her thoughts directly. Aidoneus closed his eyes, and felt his wife’s warm presence leagues away.
***
“They’re bringing in the wheat as we speak,” Triptolemus said, pointing out the villagers to Demeter. “ It is unfortunate that the barley was not ready earlier. We could have had time to ferment it before tonight, my lady.”
“That might disappoint a few, to be sure.”
He shrugged. “There will be plenty to brew after today. Besides— the people need bread before beer.”
Persephone stooped every so often to pick up loose grains of barley. Each kernel grew full in her hand. She frowned. They were severed from the earth. Growth should have stopped the moment they were cut.
Her mother and Triptolemus discussed the decorations for that evening, how the early crocus flowers and their precious saffron had yielded beautiful golden dyes, their hue woven into bolts of wool and linen, that Eleusis would be clad in gold tonight and wreathed in olive branches.
Demeter had presented Persephone with a floral crown she’d made that morning, twined with wheat and larkspur. To Persephone’s great delight and surprise, Demeter had placed a single asphodel into the center of the crown. It sat next to her bed, ready for the coming evening.
Demeter asked Triptolemus about Metaneira’s embroidery, whether or not she needed help, and told him how she would love to help decorate a fresh blanket for baby Demophon, to celebrate him taking his first steps the day before. Triptolemus kissed Demeter on the cheek.
She sighed, wistfully rather than with exasperation. She had grown accustomed to their affection. Perhaps in time, she thought, her mother would understand what she felt for Aidoneus. Demeter had a good example walking by her side that all men were not cruel and domineering, or flighty with their affections like her father, Zeus. Persephone’s shoulders slumped. Her mother had a love like that long ago with Iasion, and had kept it from her.
“And what are your plans for the festival, Lady Kore?”
“What?” She looked up at her mother’s lover and tried to remember what he’d just said. She didn’t mind Triptolemus calling her ‘Lady Kore’. It was how his people had always known her. And considering the fate of his sisters during the winter, calling her by her true name would be too painful. “Oh, I’m looking forward to it.”
“What worries you, my dear? You’ve been so distracted the last few days,” her mother said, petting Persephone’s back. She leaned into Demeter’s si
de.
“Something’s not right, Mother. The plants shouldn’t stay alive like this after they’ve been harvested,” she said, showing her the filled-out grains. “And the things people have been saying about the fish they’ve caught…”
“Have you considered that the balance is just swaying the other way?”
“I don’t think it works like that,” she muttered to herself. She turned to Triptolemus. “Can the mortals even eat what they’ve caught or harvested if it cannot die?”
“The soil is more alive than it’s ever been,” Triptolemus said cautiously as they walked back toward the Telesterion. He scooped up a handful of soil to examine it. “And the people are stronger than ever. No one in Eleusis has passed away for nearly a week. Why should we wish for Death to visit us again?”
The sky turned gold with the last rays of sunlight. Persephone looked at the moist clump of dirt in his hand and pulled a wriggling earthworm from it. “Because this little one still needs to eat. The living need the dead…”
“Honestly, Kore, must you be so morbid?” Demeter huffed. At times like this she felt that her daughter was here only in body. Demeter couldn’t help but think that even though her daughter was promised to be with her for six months, she would never again see Kore as she was. The changes in her daughter were irrevocable. Persephone, somber, analytical, and forever tainted by her ravisher, walked beside her now. “This isn’t anything you should be worrying about.”
“But it is serious, Mother.”
“Maybe your mother is right. Perhaps the balance is just restoring itself,” Triptolemus timidly interjected. “An absence of life followed by an abundance of it.”
“But this isn’t abundance. Nor is it about life. We have been working to restore it, but—”
“My dear, this is a good thing,” Demeter interrupted. “The crops are growing faster and faster.”
“But that in itself is a problem! It’s built on artifice. Plants must die so that others may live. Fertile soil is created that way. Triptolemus, you teach that at Mother’s behest,” she argued. The young man cleared his throat.
Demeter waved off her daughter’s concerns. “There was enough suffering in the winter. This must be Gaia’s doing.”
“The earth doesn’t just right itself.”
“Gaia has enough sense to preserve herself, dear.”
“But not in a way that always favors the mortals. That was why everything froze— because all fertility was leached out of the earth.”
“And now it’s back.”
“Mother…” Persephone bit her cheek in frustration. “There’s something fundamentally wrong with all this and I need to find out what it is.”
“And how do you propose to do that?”
“I…”
“Thanatos is your captor’s right hand— his agent in the world above. What if this is some base trick to make you go back to the Land of the Dead earlier than you ought?”
Triptolemus swallowed and stayed silent, knowing better than to get involved. Persephone scared him almost as much as she terrified poor Diocles, always speaking about the Other Side with impunity, and filling his own mother’s head with fanciful ideas about reborn souls.
Persephone rolled her eyes, dreading where this conversation was turning. “My husband has better things to do than twist the balance of life and death in order to have me seek him out. And he wouldn’t care for the words I’d have for him if that turned out to be true.”
Demeter grumbled to herself. “It would be just like Aidoneus to do something like this. To be this selfish.” Triptolemus deliberately quickened his pace and walked ahead.
“You don’t know him,” she said, trying to stay calm, trying not to precipitate another fight that she would ultimately lose. Her mother craved the last word. Persephone had learned early to not engage in these arguments. She focused on the sky to calm herself. The clouds were lit with flames of orange and pink. It was beautiful, but dusk here was nothing so brilliant as what she had known in the Underworld…
Demeter likewise didn’t want a fight. Don’t fan the flames, Zeus had wisely advised. She’d put up with Persephone’s talk about the Underworld, had overlooked her speaking with Metaneira and even taking Eumolpus under her wing. They’d had a happy peace these last two months, and she could almost see the old innocent light of Kore returning. It shone in the way she hugged an older woman in the village or hitched up her skirts and ran barefoot down the paths between the fields. It was in the fragrant lavender and roses that she wove into her hair. The recent anxious days had marred that, her daughter consumed with the idea that something dreadful had happened to Thanatos. She’d even referred to that baneful creature as her friend.
Persephone scooped up a few more stalks of broken wheat, rolling the fat grains between her fingers. Triptolemus doubled back and joined her when Persephone motioned him over. “Here, you see these?”
Triptolemus looked at them askance. “What about them?”
“These should be dried or rotting into mulch by now… not lying here useless. If their husks cannot feed the wheat that is still alive and growing, then—”
Persephone.
It came like a breath on the wind. She stood tall, the broken sheaves of wheat falling from her open hand.
“Aidon…” Her heart raced. Her skin prickled. Every ounce of her was bent toward awareness of him— pulled in the direction of his voice.
“Who are you—”
“Shh,” Persephone hushed Triptolemus and walked forward alone.
“What do you mean ‘Aidon’?” Demeter clenched her jaw. “I knew it. I knew it! So calculating… he never misses an opportunity.”
Persephone didn’t hear her.
Persephone… Wife…
She turned in the voice’s direction— southeast. Aidoneus… Where are you?
I am coming for you…
She sucked in a breath and she knew he could feel her worry even from so far away.
Not to take you back— not yet. But we need you.
His voice was clipped and serious. How betrayed did he feel? How upset was he about the Pomegranate Agreement? For the first time since they had parted, she dreaded seeing him, dreaded that her worst fears would be confirmed. She raised an eyebrow. Who is ‘we’?
The House of Nyx. Hecate. The Oneiroi.
She straightened her shoulders. And Thanatos? Where is he?
He is the reason we need you.
Persephone pursed her lips. She had been right— everything was terribly amiss. She’d spent the whole day trying to explain that to her mother and Triptolemus. But her chest felt heavy and Persephone didn’t know what upset her more— that he hadn’t come for her in all this time or that his aloofness even concerned her at a time like this.
“Here, Persephone,” came his voice from just ahead. The rhythmic thud of heavy footfalls followed.
His shadowy outline came into view first, quickly followed by his solid form as he removed the Helm of Darkness. Persephone’s breath caught in her throat and her knees faltered before she quickly regained her composure. Hades was dressed in full armor, his golden cuirass and greaves partially concealed by a long black cloak. His expression was as unmoving as the faceplate cradled under one arm. He stood motionless and regarded her; she bit her cheek, wondering why he didn’t embrace her. Or at least greet her, for Fate’s sake. It had been three months.
Aidoneus looked past her for a moment and narrowed his eyes at the angry goddess standing behind his wife. “Calm yourself, Demeter. I’m not here to take her below.”
“You have no right to be here at all, creature,” she ground out.
Aidoneus suppressed an eye roll. Instead, he glanced at— and through— her companion. What he saw in the man’s soul shocked him. He raised his eyebrows in surprise, a smile teasing the edges of his mouth. “I’m glad to see Iasion found his way back to you after all these aeons, Demeter. And as your lover, no less.”
Persephone turned to Tri
ptolemus and then to her mother, who had turned white.
Triptolemus, who hadn’t moved a muscle since Hades appeared, looked from one deity to the other. “Deme?”
“You knew?” Persephone asked her mother, whose teary-eyed panic affirmed her answer. “And you said nothing?” She gently addressed her mother’s consort. “Do you see now, Triptolemus? It is as I told you. We all come back from the Other Side…”
Triptolemus wrenched his hand free of Demeter’s and took a silent step back. “Who…”
“Iasion was Demeter’s lover, destroyed by Zeus. It happened aeons ago, boy,” Hades stated without emotion. “His soul crossed over. And you are he.”
Triptolemus shook his head in disbelief and backed away from Demeter. “So when I told you about my dreams…”
“Triptolemus,” she pleaded with him.
“…you knew the entire time…”
“Please, my sweet prince—”
“No!” He interrupted her roughly, then softened his voice and expression when a tear rolled down her cheek. “No. Please, my Lady. I… give me some time to think.”
“Triptolemus, wait.”
He spun on his heels and paced back to the Telesterion.
“Triptolemus!” Demeter helplessly watching him go. She wiped her eyes roughly with the back of her arm. “How could you…”
“How could I what?” He countered with a sneer. “Tell him the truth?”
Persephone looked up at him, her brow furrowed. That was cruel, Aidon.
As cruel as the agreement that separates us? Hades shot back. She blanched. Was he truly that upset with her? Was this why he hadn’t spoken with her in all the time they had been parted?
Before Demeter could protest again, a swirl of dark mist burst into a winding gyre behind Aidoneus— a pathway over land and sea. From it emerged a woman with skin as pale as starlight, her figure wrapped in darkness that spread into every shadow. Her hair waved weightlessly. A silver-haired, silver winged youth dressed in a shining cuirass led a shrouded blind man forward. In their wake, a thousand shadows spilled forth, faceless creatures with smoky wings and glinting eyes, rising and wafting upward on the breeze like a flock of starlings. An ancient crone emerged last, carrying a four-lamp torch. With a wave of her hand, the path to the ether shut and disappeared.
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