Destroyer of Light (22 page)

“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 cried 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.

The earth and all waking life rose through her in pulses and waves, just as it had when she stepped through the ether in Nysa with Aidon at her side. The light grew stronger, turned golden and her eyes adjusted. She could smell the cold tree bark, the wind and snow. And blood.

She felt the chariot slowing and looked around, the blue sky above them, the sun shining in the west, an hour or so above the horizon. Persephone blinked and saw Demeter in a dark robe, her hair veiled, with her hand cupped over her mouth, and a strongly built man with a thick blond beard and a cloaked himation standing beside her. She felt dizzy as they came to a stop and looked around at the cave from which they emerged with its sandy granite and withered husks of chaparral brush, then at the blinding layer of snow covering the dead ground.

Persephone stepped from the chariot and her foot sank into the white banks, freezing. She willed it away, and the snow vanished from around her feet. Green sprouts replaced it, growing around her in a circle, sprouting up and crowding each other. Her heart beat loudly in her ears. The pulse of the earth beat with it and she looked down at the blood staining her right hand. Roots. Soil. Life. Sprouting seeds.
Aidon…

Doubling over with a cry, she placed her palm on the ground and felt the earth warm beneath her fingertips. She closed her eyes and felt the snow melt away, replaced with heat, with roots digging through the frost. Her womb clenched again and she cried out anew, concentrating. She heard faint trickling as water leaked under the snow; slush flowing in streams, the rivers of the world above began to thaw.

Grow.

She felt a pulse of life nearby— a crocus bulb, its green tip bursting from the hardened shell protecting it. She exhaled and pushed vitality into it, just as she had when she was Kore. Thin shoots strengthened into leaves, buds blossomed into broad purple flowers that opened to reveal bright saffron anthers. Persephone reached past that bulb until she felt another. The ground was littered with crocus bulbs, each bearing precious cargo ready to spring forth and greet the sun. Other plants twisted in the dirt, their roots pushing down, their stalks and fledgling leaves pushing up. They were rooting themselves below and above.

The seeds of this world will bloom in the world above.

Blood streaked her thighs under her peplos, but she didn’t care. What life she had been unable to carry in her womb, she realized, she was giving to all the earth. She felt heat and fertility spread from where her palm touched the earth, radiating out for leagues and stadia around them, across all the lands, the face of the waters and the islands. The frozen sea creaked and groaned, fissures splitting the ice. Snow melted and caved in as roots sipped its life-giving water. Warmth. Seeds. Roots. Leaves. Flowers.

Persephone gasped in a breath and withdrew her hand from the earth. She opened her eyes and stood. The gathering of gods— Demeter and Zeus, Hermes and Hecate— stood thunderstruck, all staring at her.

Persephone gazed at the altered landscape surrounding her. The snow lay in patches, and in its place grew the first hints of grass, the earth deep and rich in color, muddy and waiting to produce more. Scattered across the freed fertile ground and even bursting through the last drifts of snow were crocuses. Hundreds of them. The purple flowers were strewn all over the hillside and stretched out across the valley around the Telesterion. The trees still looked gray, their bark lifeless, but on a small olive tree close by, Persephone could see little buds with tips of green emerging from the branches. She calmly walked over, ignoring the others and touched a frail offshoot. Under the path of her fingers, buds burst open further and bright green leaves appeared. So much work still needed to be done.

“The Goddess of Spring,” Hecate said quietly, interrupting the silence. A smile curled her lips. “The bringing of life above and below. It
will
come to pass, then.”

Demeter took a cautious step forward. Persephone looked at her mother’s face, the first time that she had seen her in two months. She bit her lip, conflicting emotions coursing through her. Demeter… who had endured months of anguish and pain after her only child was ripped away from her. Mother… who had always been her protector and nurturer. She had tried to save Persephone, however misguidedly, from an arranged marriage that would part them forever. Despite everything, Persephone had missed her greatly.

“Mother!” She barely heard herself shout it and ran forward, embracing Demeter. Persephone felt arms wrap around her and heard her mother’s uncontrolled sobs of relief, her tears of joy at seeing her child again. They held tight to each other, weeping. She had missed her, oh how she had missed her!

Persephone knew why she had wreaked such havoc on the mortals. Men governed the world above, and a woman— even a goddess such as Demeter— was nearly powerless under their rules. It took an act of great strength and severity to make men listen, to bend them. Persephone understood. But her mother needed to return that understanding in kind, now. She needed to listen. Persephone held her, willing herself to be brave, to be strong but kind.

“Kore,” Demeter cried out into the shoulder of Persephone’s peplos. “Kore… My sweet, darling Kore! I thought I’d never see you again…”

Persephone held her breath and pushed gently away from Demeter’s embrace. “Mother, I—”

“Look at you. Gods, look what he did to you…” she whispered, shaking her head. “You look so pale and your cheeks are so gaunt.”

I’ve grown up
, Persephone thought.
I am who I was supposed to be.
“I am well, Mother. I was never mistreated. But I need to speak to you.”