by Lucas, Naomi
I like to swim. The moonlight slowly brightened. I like chocolate-chip cookies. Books. Trees, the forest.
A noise sounded, and she pivoted to see Cerberus appear with Hermes. Her shoulders dropped. The golden-esque god greeted her with a smile she couldn’t return. His winged adornments fluttered.
“Hermes will lead you where you want to go,” Cerberus said.
Pain. “Where I want to go?”
“When you reach the top.”
Cyane glanced between the two men, having no idea where she wanted to go.
“The deal you made?” she asked, softly.
“Yes, the deal.”
Hermes lifted into the air. “I will hold up my end of the bargain.”
“I made a deal, too, with Melinoe,” she said, having forgotten until that moment. Both men’s faces shuttered at the mention of the goddess’s name. “I haven’t kept it.” Will Melinoe come for her?
“You made a deal with...that?” Hermes spat.
Cerberus shook his head. “It’s been dealt with. She was given what she’s been looking for.”
Cyane’s eyes widened, then she nodded. “Thank you,” she whispered, wanting to reach out to Cerberus again but didn’t know if he’d accept it with Hermes there. Their interactions had always been private until the glade.
“Well, are we going?” Hermes muttered. “The day is almost over, and Persephone and Hecate will be coming down this way soon. I’m assuming you don’t want to be seen? I certainly don’t want my fair Goddess of Spring to see me breaking Hades’s law. I’d like to return next year.”
Cyane turned to Cerberus. He hadn’t put his helmet back on. She hoped he’d be okay with Hermes knowing his face. Cerberus’s countenance had changed since he’d returned with the winged god; he was acting as though they had already said goodbye.
“Please come with me,” she begged again. Know my pain. She needed him to hear her plea for him, to give him that last opportunity to choose her. “Please.”
He didn’t respond, he didn’t move at all. She couldn’t wait any longer and didn’t care who or what saw. She flung herself against Cerberus one last time and hid her face against his armored chest. The smell of worn metal filled her nose.
She held onto him desperately, and eventually, his arms came around her one last time and held her, too.
“Lovingly,” she thought she heard him say, gripping him like her soul depended on it. His hands fell from her back, and she quickly drew away before she decided to stay and serve Hades, just to have the chance to see Cerberus. To be near him.
“We’ll meet again,” she said, growing numb. Then she whispered so low she barely heard it herself. “Ask me to stay. Please ask me to stay.”
“Come,” Hermes said softly, holding out his hand.
Cyane waited for Cerberus to stop her from making this choice...but he remained silent.
Heart breaking, she stepped back, turned away from him, and took Hermes’s hand. He pulled her toward the shoreline, headed for where the light grew brighter with each step.
And when she glanced back, there was nothing but darkness to greet her.
Cerberus watched Cyane walk away, watched as the light haloed around her, swallowing her as she returned to its embrace.
A prickle coursed down his back—Hades called him—but Cerberus couldn’t move, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword. What was one more defyment in the grand scheme of things? No punishment was worse than this.
It’d been so long since he’d seen the light. Its glory wasn’t meant for him though, never had been, and never would be. Hercules had once forced Cerberus into it, and it had blinded all his hundreds of eyes. The loss had sent him into a rage and he’d had no recourse to the thousands of evil mortals who kicked, stabbed, and prodded his body.
That torment was nothing compared to the hollowing ache in his chest. It built with each step Cyane took.
But she is meant for the light.
Not here.
Not where Hades would use her. Not in the one place Cerberus couldn’t ensure her complete safety.
Hades would break her, warp her into a dark creature. And Cerberus couldn’t have that. Not now that he knew the lengths of what his lord had gone through to bring her here. Hades had plans for her. Plans Cerberus didn’t know.
So sweet, so easy to pluck and possess.
He wouldn’t be able to bear seeing Cyane destroyed, plucked and possessed. Especially by anyone that wasn’t him. He’d kill anyone who tried.
She twisted to glimpse him, and he stepped back into the shadows. She still wore her golden dress. She sparkled like an angel. His hand tightened around his weapon’s hilt.
When she stopped searching for him in the dark, where she’d never be able to find him, she turned away, and Cerberus had an epiphany. Love. That’s what his feeling worming through his chest was.
We will meet again.
Cyane and Hermes became dots on the horizon, near gone now in the light.
Even in death, she’ll never be mine. He could at least guard her soul, take her where she needed to go, but ultimately he would have to let her go a second time.
Cerberus put his helmet back on and turned away.
Persephone, Demeter, and Hecate
She thought the light would blind her, but it didn’t. The smell of soil, grass, and flowers filled her nose. Cyane breathed in deep, having forgotten it all even in such a short amount of time. It helped a little with the growing void in her chest.
They neared the end of the tunnel, just visible at the end of a short rise. She could see brief glimpses when the ferns that blocked it swayed.
He wasn’t there when I looked back. She’d hoped Cerberus would stop her, wanted the primordial near-god of him to save her, not leave her. She’d been prepared for many things, but losing him, and so quickly after everything? She hadn’t been prepared for that.
You belong with me. Yet, he had done nothing but urge her to go. Now that she was right at the threshold of the realms, she wasn’t sure she even had any choice in the matter.
She was sick of not having a choice. Cyane gritted her teeth despite her sorrow. She was sick of the illusion of control.
When they reached the entrance to the cave, Cyane hesitated. What happens when you come back from the realm of the dead? Hermes was waiting for her, holding the foliage that obscured the opening to the tunnel to the side and looking less patient by the second. She only had two options. Really just one option, she sighed.
Cyane took the final step.
Hermes helped her through the crack of the entrance, pushing the rest of the vines back. The once great river of Styx had become nothing more than a brook, babbling over rocks and stones.
Cyane straightened in the growing dawn light. She hadn’t realized how cold and numb she’d been in the Underworld until the warm air blew across her flesh. Her stomach growled. She swallowed, feeling incredibly thirsty. Normal aches and pains assailed her. Everything returned.
Cyane rubbed her arms against the onslaught of feelings, of her bodily functions returning. God, was she hungry.
“You’ve crossed over,” Hermes said, drawing her attention. He no longer appeared as a gilded, winged god, but like a handsome man aged into his forties. He wore jeans and a shirt which hid his once-bare chest, and even had light blonde scruffy beard. “It’s not always easy leaving a timeless place.”
Cyane glanced down at herself. She still wore her gold gown and sandals. “Where are we?”
“Northwest of Taygetos mountain, near the plateau of Tripoli—depending, of course, upon the names of this time period. Greece, to make it easier. The Alpheus river, or part of it I suppose?” Hermes kicked at a rock. “The entrance to Tartarus changes.”
Cyane pulled up the vines they’d just crawled through, finding nothing but a small hole where the water trickled. “Oh.” She frowned. Oh...
“You won’t find your way back, not without help.”
A soft cry and a
rustle of bushes sounded nearby, startling both Hermes and her. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her away from the brook and behind a thick copse of trees and bushes. He pressed a finger to her mouth as the noises grew closer, and they both knelt to watch through the leaves.
Three women appeared and walked along the brook, stopping where Cyane and Hermes had been standing moments prior.
“My beautiful, fair as the morning sun, a budding flower at first light,” Hermes murmured like a love-sick puppy.
They were incredibly beautiful women. Hecate Cyane recognized, though she no longer wore regal regalia, but instead a long black skirt and matching vest with puffy white sleeves pouring out of it.
Beside her was a woman with blonde hair pulled back, wearing worn jeans and a loose-fitting green top that hung low on her heavy breasts. Her arms were bare and slightly tanned, gold bangles circled her wrists, and there were gold chains draped from her neck. She held the hand of a third woman who looked very similar, if not a little younger.
Demeter and… Cyane gasped, the sound making Hermes narrowed his eyes upon her in warning.
Persephone.
The women spoke with each other, but Cyane didn’t hear any of it.
I know her! The revelation nearly made her stand up and rush to the women without thought, but a hand clamped down on her shoulder.
The paintings in Cerberus’s room came back to her suddenly. The very paintings she couldn’t look at for more than moments without having to turn away because of the pain that filled her head.
Persephone wore a dress similar to Cyane’s, the only one of the three that looked like a true Grecian goddess, but Persephone’s was a pale yellow, a soft chiton that clung and accentuated the maiden appearance of her. That was the difference between Demeter and Persephone, one had the aura of a mother…the other, an eternal maiden.
Persephone beamed with fresh radiance, blue skies, and soft sunshine. It was impossible to look at her without being filled with love. The kind of love that needed protection at all costs because it could so easily wilt.
“I know her,” Cyane whispered in awe. That feeling of pure love filled her. It nearly eclipsed everything, all that she had been through, everything with Cerberus, even the horror of the Underworld and Hades. She knew Persephone so deeply, so fully, that it made her throat close and her chest tighten.
Hermes’s hold on her tightened, but she barely registered it as she stared at the goddess.
Hecate raised the vines for Persephone as Demeter hugged her daughter fiercely, tears pouring down her cheeks. The young goddess hugged her mother back but quickly untangled herself from the embrace. A bright reassuring smile pulled at her bow-shaped lips, however, Demeter wasn’t having it and crumbled to the ground. The grass and weeds around her dried up and browned.
Persephone turned to Hecate, lifted her dress, and climbed through the vines. Hecate followed with a splash of water, and as quickly as they had arrived, they were gone.
Demeter was left behind, sobbing, and killing the plants around her.
Cyane had the urge to go to the great mother and comfort her, to promise she’d stay by Persephone’s side and protect her, but when she went to move, Hermes stopped her from doing so. She choked back a displeased moan as his hand pressed against her mouth, stifling it.
“She will not like being seen this way,” he whispered. “And her wrath has the power of winter.”
Cyane’s heart raced, uncaring, but she stopped trying to move.
Demeter, in her lovely glory, rose to her feet, wiped her cheeks, and sneered at the cave entrance. She turned away, and a large, muscled man with white hair appeared out of nowhere. He grabbed the back of her neck. Demeter sighed, and they vanished.
Hermes released Cyane with a grunt. “Glad we weren’t caught.”
“Why?” Cyane picked up her skirt and went back to the brook.
“Demeter would’ve made me go with them. She so likes to use her agony to get what she wants.”
A powerful urge overcame Cyane to follow Persephone, but when she swept the vines aside, the cave was gone. Only rocks and running water had been hidden behind the green curtain.
She turned back to Hermes. “I know her.”
“Doesn’t most the world?”
“No, I mean, I really know her, like I’ve known her forever. I love her, I don’t know how or why, but I love her dearly. Enough to...” Cyane trailed off, glancing around her. “Enough to die for her.”
Hermes canted his head. “Like you love Cerberus?”
She sucked in a breath, “Yes,” she said. “I love him, too.” But it was a different type of love.
She surprised herself, admitting that now. She loved Cerberus. It wasn’t just the power of him that had brought her to her knees. But love.
Had she made the right choice? Her throat tightened. Could she go back? Would she even be able to? And if she did, would Hades forgive her? Would Cerberus? Or would she be punished for leaving?
She needed to know, needed to know why she adored Persephone. It was important. Why had Hades gone through such extreme lengths to bring her to Tartarus? I was someone else in my last life. I’d done something to make Hades hate me.
What was it? Cyane searched her head, but nothing came to her, nothing that would help her. All there were, were memories of this life, and nothing more.
She looked back at Hermes who was brushing the dirt off his jeans. “Hades said he’d waited for me to die,” she said. “That my soul lingered above and would not leave. That he had to come up himself and take it and reincarnate me so I would come to him.”
Hermes’s head snapped up. “He said that?”
“And more.” She grabbed him. He tried to pull away, but she held on. “You told me you recognized me. You said it several times. Look at me, not as a mortal, but as something or someone you may have met that wasn’t.”
“What else did Hades say?”
She bit down on her tongue, but spoke anyway. “I angered him somehow.” She thought back on all that Hades had told her. There was more. Something that would help. I shouldn’t have drank the wine.
Maybe I am weak. Cyane tried not to let the awful thought take over her, not again. “I’m to serve him. To make sure he has an heir.”
Hermes's eyes widened. “A god hasn’t been born, not for ages. The goddesses do not have children anymore. It is our punishment for betraying their trust and going astray. How would you help him do such a thing?”
“I don’t know.” And she refused to dwell on it because she knew if she did, it would only tear her insides out. “Who am I?” she begged.
“I don’t know.”
“Think!”
Hermes’s jaw ticked, his nostrils flared. “I don’t know!”
This time when he pulled away, tearing her hands off of him, Cyane let him go.
Then she recalled something. She brought her hands up and pressed her palms to her brow. “Hades said...he said I helped Demeter discover where her daughter was.”
Hermes hissed. “That can’t be, I was there, I would remember—”
Cyane looked up at him.
He stared at her, his mouth parting slightly, as his eyes flickered over her hurriedly. “There was a naiad, a naiad who gave me a belt. The belt Persephone wore the day she vanished. Her name…”
“What was her name?”
“How could I have forgotten,” he breathed, pivoting away.
“What was her name?” she urged, asking again.
“Ciane.”
“My name.”
“But she was transformed. She wasn’t a naiad, not anymore, she was—”
“What?”
“A pond,” he said. “I only met her the one time, but I saw her play with Persephone from a distance when I used to, erm, watch the goddess.”
It had to be her. It had to be. The name wasn’t quite the same, but it was undeniably close. And Hermes had said he recognized her, although he couldn’t place from where. “Can
you take me to this pond? Does it still exist?”
“I don’t like going there anymore.” He turned away, and Cyane felt like she was losing him, losing him right when she was so close to finding out the truth and understanding why.
Hades had brought her back to life, but for what? Why did she have any purpose in his plans? He kept reminding her of her lowly status, that she was nothing in comparison to a god.
“Why?” she asked.
His eyes shuttered. “It was where my beautiful maiden was last seen, where I lost her to the dark and depravity of”—he spat—“Hades. He stole her. Stole her purity, and the flowers of this world died with Demeter’s agony. My beautiful Persephone, raped by such a man.”
“Did he…” Cyane tried to imagine it, imagine Hades, as depraved as the spectacle of the day before. “Did he truly rape her?” It made her sick. Poor Persephone. But the goddess had smiled, had seemed almost eager to leave her mother’s embrace and return to the dark. Even so, anger and a terrible sadness filled Cyane to think that such an innocent, beautiful creature like the Goddess of Spring had been subjected to that.
The grief, the pain, was familiar and old, as if a friend returned from her past, one that had been dead.
I know her. Did Cyane truly know her? Cyane’s heart screamed she did, but there were no memories. Even now, as she wrung her hands into her dress waiting for Hermes’s answer, she wasn’t sure.
“He tore all that was innocent from her and took it for his own, without allowance, without appeal.”
“But Persephone was brought home?” God, why did she care? “Take me to the pond, Hermes. Please.”
“She was rescued, but her sentence was final. There was nothing anyone could do once Zeus decided.”
“She didn’t seem upset to descend?”
“Because she is innocent and believes Hades is good,” he scowled.
It didn’t make sense. “And yet you were celebrating with him these past seven days.”