Blinding Night

by Chantal Gadoury

  “Where are you going now, human?” Arae asked. Ignoring her, I moved away from my chair. My gaze was still locked on Morpheus. He raised a brow curiously and slid his hands into his pockets.

  “I need to talk to you,” I said as I reached out and grabbed his arm. I didn’t care that I had yanked him out of the room. I didn’t care what the others thought or said either.

  “Talk?” Morpheus asked as I pulled the two of us out into the hallway. He leaned back against the wall coolly. I glared at him as I shook my head.

  “What you did last night... it was cruel.”

  “That’s a first,” he said with a smirk. “And what, pray tell, did I do?”

  I pressed my finger against his chest and bit my bottom lip.

  “You know exactly what you did.”

  He slid his fingers around my wrist and carefully moved my hand away from his chest, allowing it to fall to my side. I glared at him darkly as he sucked in a breath.

  “Summer, you’ll have to elaborate. I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  I hated the amusement I could hear in his tone. The way his eyes began to sparkle as he crossed his arms over his chest. It made my blood boil.

  “The dream—nightmare—whatever it was! You… you sent me a dream about my dad and...the prophecy pot… the seeds…—”

  “Prophecy pot?” He asked curiously.

  “Did you or did you not give me that dream last night?” I demanded as I pushed my finger into his chest again. I was angry. No—mad! No—livid! I was a mess of emotions.

  “What makes you think I had anything to do with your dream, Summer? I can’t control everyone’s dreams. They’re not always of my making.”

  “Did you or did you not—”

  Morpheus grabbed my hand and carefully interlaced his fingers with mine. His eyes were a calm darkness as he slid his free hand to my cheek and brushed it carefully.

  “I thought it would please you,” he whispered after a long, silent moment. “To see your father again.”

  I blinked and a tear rolled down my face. I looked away from him, embarrassed that I was crying over how hot and angry I was. How had he known? When had I allowed him to gain so much information about me? Had Darce told him? As the questions swirled in my mind, Morpheus tipped my chin upwards, forcing me to look at him as he shook his head.

  “You don’t have to shield your tears from me. I’m the last one you should ever feel as though you must hide from,” he murmured.

  “Why?” I asked through clenched teeth. “You don’t know me.”

  “But I see you,” he said sharply, “You think no one sees you as anything more than Persephone’s reincarnation. But that’s not true.”

  “I don’t care how you see me.” I argued as I tried to tug my hand free. Morpheus held on though, reluctant to let me get away so easily. “You still don’t know me. And I don’t appreciate you pretending to know me.”

  Morpheus clicked his tongue and slowly moved his hand away from my cheek.

  “You wanted to see your father, and I gave you the opportunity,” he slid his hands into his trousers and sighed. “I didn’t wish for you to go to Asphodel Fields and see where the souls linger.”

  “And the seeds? The prophecy pot?”

  “You have to start remembering something, don’t you?” Morpheus said. “There’s no sense in keeping secrets locked away when you’re in need of some sort of stimulation.”

  I wrinkled my nose and took a step back.

  “The last thing I need is any sort of stimulation from you.”

  He chuckled as one of his wings opened and flexed from behind him.

  “I think you’d be surprised by how much you’d enjoy stimulation from me…”

  I cringed. If he was hitting on me, then that was one of the worst pick-up lines I had ever heard.

  “I don’t think I ever want to hear that word come out of your mouth again,” I hissed as I stumbled back, shaking my head. “Just… stay out of my head.”

  “If only it were so easy,” Morpheus replied. “There will be more dreams to come.”

  “I don’t want them,” I argued.

  He shrugged and carelessly pushed himself away from the wall. “It seems none of us have much of a choice in this situation.”

  I pressed my own back against the wall then and slid down to the floor. I didn’t like his response. I was getting way over my head in the complexity of this whole situation. Everything seemed to be resting on my shoulders. It was up to me to remember Persephone, to remember who I was... and to somehow prevent the bond between Darce and his long-lost love from breaking.

  “There are some other complications. Things that could be used against me,” Darce had admitted to me in my room the other night. An unspoken truth he wasn’t telling me, for whatever reason. Whether it was the danger Minthe posed to me, or something else. I needed to know.

  “Tell me the truth,” I whispered to Morpheus. “Tell me what Darce won’t.”

  I could hear him exhale as he joined me on the floor. His wings slid behind my back, curling around me like warm arms. It seemed like the weight of the world was bearing down on him. I could see it in the set of his shoulders.

  “I cannot,” he breathed.

  “Can’t,” I pressed, “Or won’t?”

  “Summer, please. Don’t forget, Darce is Hades, Lord of the Underworld. A God. His word is law, and I obey him,” he said plainly.

  “Right.” I felt betrayed, but I guess I should have expected it. Morpheus might have been a friend, but he was Darce’s subject first.

  “I have served him for centuries,” he started, “It is not my wish to see him suffer any longer. His powers over the Underworld have weakened with his heartache, and as such, his absence over the years has taken its toll.”

  “Is that why Minthe is trying to dig her nails in?”

  “She wants to be a Queen,” he shook his head dismally, “Because it is better than being a nymph. But close enough to a Goddess—at least in her mind.”

  I had never deeply considered the kind of effects Persephone’s disappearance had on Darce. I knew he was moody and reminiscent, but he never let on more than that. He had been looking for her for an eternity. The kind of loss he felt was something I was only beginning to discover. His wound had never healed and Minthe couldn’t fill the missing piece Persephone left behind. I understood then, his grief and his joy in finding me, because I had felt it too—in my dream with dad.

  “So, even now he’s suffering?”

  “In all the years I have served him, I know that his heart belongs to only one. His relationship with Minthe,” Morpheus hesitated, “I think it—”

  “Breaks his heart.” My eyes widened.

  “Indeed.”

  I felt selfish. Though he had told me the truth about their relations, I hadn’t completely understood what it cost him to be with her. It was a sick circle of grief, desperation, and in part—protection. As long as he kept her occupied, Minthe would think their bond was waning. I hadn’t listened close enough the other night.

  I stood up, feeling a little distant from myself.

  “Summer?”

  “Morpheus, what happens if the bond is broken?”

  “Persephone would return to her mother, tied to Demeter once again,” Morpheus explained softly. “She would be unable to return.”

  “But—Darce and Persephone—they love each other. They belong to one another.”

  “Soulmates are just a legend, Summer,” Morpheus said dryly, “While Zeus might have sliced humans from each other... It’s rare to ever truly find the other part of yourself. I’ve found over the centuries from observing the dreams of humans that many simply settle. They tire of the journey. They tire of searching. And they never find the truest form of love.”

  “They deserve better.” But more importantly, Darce deserved better. I deserved better.

  I didn’t like what Morpheus had said, even though it might have been true.
Darce had searched, and searched, and searched—that didn’t sound like settling to me. He had found his truest form of love and he had lost it. I wanted to know more—needed to know more. Something in my gut told me to look in the library.

  I started walking away but Morpheus’s voice caught me. “Where are you going?”

  “I think I just want to be alone right now.” And I had no appetite worth saving. So I left him in the hallway without so much as a ‘goodbye’.

  I could hear the distant ticking of the mantle clock as I shuffled through the strange looking journals once belonging to Persephone. After my discussion with Morpheus, I wanted to find the library and be alone for awhile. There was a deep nagging at the back of my mind that whispered, over and over again, “Look in the library, Summer. There are answers there.” Whether or not I was going crazy from hunger or my nightmare, I listened. A fire was burning warmly in the hearth as I opened the door and closed it quietly behind me.

  I was grateful for the additional heat, despite wearing a pair of aqua fuzzy socks.

  I had asked myself what exactly I was looking for, because I wasn’t sure. I went farther into the room than before, coming across a table in the middle of the room. In the stack of books covering its surface, there was one that stood out above all of the others. It was the same one I had discovered on my first evening—the one with the sketch of Darce—lying right on top of a few other books. Some of the drawings had slipped from the old, parchment pages and were scattered on the floor. The one of Darce, in particular, kept me frozen as I gazed at it. His eyes were so captivating.

  I lifted the portrait and admired it for a long moment. Where had this been drawn? What were the circumstances around it? What had their conversations been like? I felt a strange flicker of jealousy tighten into a knot in my stomach.

  Whatever had happened in the past, it shouldn’t involve me.

  But, like a moth to a flame, I was dangerously aware of how much I wanted to dig up the past. I would touch the flame and it would burn me.

  “Is this where you disappeared to then?” Darce’s smooth voice made me jump. I turned quickly on my heel, shoving the book and portrait behind my back.

  “I just wanted to be alone.”

  “I noticed,” Darce said with a nod as he took a step forward. “You weren’t at breakfast.”

  “Well, I was, but I left,” I said as I allowed my words to drift into silence.

  “And here you are,” he said with a smirk. “What are you looking at?” Darce lifted his hand as he gestured towards the hidden objects behind my back. I didn’t want him to see that I had been snooping. Again.

  “Oh... n-nothing,” I said softly, trying to shrug carelessly.

  “That means something,” he teased as he crossed the space between us and gently grabbed my elbow. His eyes were wide with surprise as the old book was revealed, along with the sketch of his portrait.

  “I found these,” I quickly explained, “They were just lying out.”

  Darce nodded as he gently pulled the book from my curled fingers and carefully peeled the cover away to reveal the strange markings on the pages.

  “I don’t know what they say,” I continued as I darted my gaze between him and the pages of the book.

  “They’re Greek,” he said simply and lowered the open book onto the table. His finger trailed over the etchings of the foreign letters, smiling to himself. As if he were remembering a private, happy memory.

  “They were hers.”

  Stillness. There was a tranquil silence between us as he flipped the page, revealing a small sketch of a wildflower.

  “I know,” I replied. He turned another page and then another. His gaze was like a caress on the paper. He stared steadily at them—drinking in the words I’d never understand. Were they hidden messages for him? Were they memories of their time together?

  “I wish I knew what it said,” I admitted, though I tried to feign interest in another book nearby to hide my curiosity. “Maybe it would help me to remember something—connecting to something that belonged to her.”

  Darce turned his gaze to me.

  “They’re just writings about the plants in the human world. The things she wished to share with me when she came to visit me in the darkness of winter.”

  “It’s a book about plants?” I asked, raising a brow curiously. “But why are there portraits of you?”

  “Because I was worth sketching too, no doubt.” Darce chuckled and slowly closed the book.

  “She didn’t write about the time she spent with you?”

  “I can’t say she had much time to do such things here. I kept her occupied with other activities.”

  Oh my god. Perv.

  I wrinkled my nose at the thought. He disgusted me sometimes—frustrated too—but he also fascinated me. There were so many sides to him that I didn’t know about yet and I wanted to know them. I was beginning to feel a keen sense of belonging to him in the very short amount of time I had spent with him. How many days had it been? Weeks? A month? And yet, the idea of him—with her—I pressed my fingers to my forehead and exhaled softly.

  “Did you want something?” I asked, irritation dripping with my words. I didn’t care.

  Darce crossed his arms and sat down in one of the large arm chairs.

  “I came here because I thought it was time for me to bring you to your father.”

  His words stunned me as I slowly lowered my hand to my side.

  “M-My father?”

  Darce nodded. “It was part of our bargain, wasn’t it? If you came here, I’d take you to see him.”

  “You mean go to the Asphodel Fields?”

  “Yes,” he said slowly. “That is where the spirits reside for a time. It is where your father is now.”

  I remembered Morpheus’s words, “I didn’t wish for you to go to Asphodel Fields and see where the souls linger.” Maybe he had been protecting me for a reason. Darce waited on me patiently to reply. Hadn’t I already seen my dad? Was that really even him or was it just that—a dream Morpheus had made to make me think it was him? It was a good dream, all things considered. Real, too.

  I swallowed hard. A great fear coiled itself around my stomach like a vicious snake ensnaring its prey. Sweat prickled at my forehead, warm against my cold skin.

  Darce pulled at an imaginary fluff on his shirt and stood. “If you no longer wish to go—”

  “No, it’s not that,” I said, nodding quickly. “I want to go, but I don’t know if I’m ready.”

  I wasn’t sure if I should tell him about the dream. Would he punish Morpheus? Would he be angry with me? Either way, it wasn’t really a lie. Right? I was sure that whatever happened in the Asphodel Fields, would be far more than what I could handle. The dream had been intense enough.

  Maybe the fear sitting in my belly was a warning.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.” At least, I thought I was. I had to trust my gut, right? It had brought me to the library after all, and in doing so; it brought me Darce.

  “Are you afraid?”

  “A little,” I admitted.

  “Persephone was too when I first took her to the Asphodel Fields. But it’s not nearly as terrifying as one might imagine,” he explained. I slowly nodded and slid a hand over my arm.

  “Should I let you go back to your reading?” Darce asked, gesturing towards the book on the table. I couldn’t stop myself from feeling the spark of guilt as I glanced back down at it’s cover. These were private notes; things that had once been shared between the two of them. It wasn’t meant for my eyes, even if I was connected to her.

  “No,” I took a step back, “Maybe I’ll just go back to my room.”

  Darce slid his hands into the pockets of his trousers and smirked. “Would you like me to join you?”

  Chapter 23

  If looks could kill, I would have.

  “No!” I blurted out loudly as I quickly shook my head. “I mean—no. I don’t need you to tuck me
in or anything.”

  “I didn’t have that in mind,” he said with a chuckle. “I could think of a few other things.”

  The hair on my arms stood as an image flashed through my mind. I was sitting on a dark, wooden piano as a man with dark, tousled hair slid my beaded skirt up to my waist. A warmth pooled in my stomach as I clung to the man, kissing him deeply. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to push the image away.

  It felt too familiar, but I couldn’t place where it had come from. I was more frustrated by the lack of knowing, the haziness it brought on as I tried to bring it back. Nothing. Just a leftover feeling of loss I couldn’t explain.

  “What is it with you Gods and your constant need to procreate?” I replied curtly as I slid my hair to one side of my shoulder.

  “Don’t get me confused with my brother, Zeus,” Darce said matter-of-factly. “I only have an interest in one person.”

  “Persephone?” I replied quickly. After all, I was positive that was all he saw when he looked at me. I couldn’t be sure he could see me though—the real me, Summer Mavros.

  “Which happens to be you.” He tilted his chin towards the door and asked, “Anyways, weren’t you leaving?”

  “Aren’t you? I’m surprised you were able to get away from Minthe to see me.”

  If Morpheus was right, then I doubted we would be alone for much longer. Minthe would float into the room, wearing some combination of precious jewels and expensive fabrics; then demand more of his time to discuss ‘business.’ As much as I may have been tempted by the idea of him alone in my room, I liked the idea of Minthe there much less.

  “Does it really bother you?”

  “No. You already told me what was going on.” I bit my lip, keeping the truth concealed. I didn’t want him to know it upset me, especially when he was occupying her for my sake.

  “You know it’s just for show.”

  “A show you shouldn’t have to put on in the first place,” I replied honestly.

  “A show worth maintaining for the sake of our bond,” he spoke softly, but I could hear his annoyance.

  “And when I suddenly remember everything it is that you think I’m just going to remember, do you really think I’m going to just welcome you into my—” But my words grew quiet as he studied me. A strange, sickening twist began to tug at my heart and gut as his black gaze trailed from my eyes and wandered over my lips.