Until I heard his voice. Darce.
I opened my eyes, only to find Morpheus was no longer with me. His room had disappeared, and in its place, a vast beautiful meadow. I could almost smell the spring in the air; all the wildflowers floating in the breezy wind. And as I glanced down at myself, I was no longer wearing my comfortable human clothes. Instead, I was wearing a cream, flowy gown that clung to my curves more than I liked. My hair was collected into a braid with a thin golden ribbon tying it into place, and adorning the top—a small diadem.
Where was I? What time period was this?
As I gazed at my surroundings, I could hear a woman in the distance shouting the name, “Leora!”
The name seemed familiar to me, as though I had once known a Leora. Kind of an old, strange name for 2017, but it beat “North” and “Apple.”
“Leora,” a deep voice spoke from behind me. I turned, gazing over my shoulder as I peered up at the figure of a man. Darce.
I knew it was him despite his changed features.
“We are as the humans perceive us,” he had once said. He had a head full of dark, brunette curls and his jaw was sharp; and his nose was perfectly shaped and rounded. He was entirely all God. He smiled warmly as he stretched his hand out to me. My heart began to race as I stared at that hand. His clothes were all black, adorned with the same twisted silver threading over his chest. The crest of the Underworld. I almost spoke his name, but bit my tongue. Would Leora know his name? What would she have called him? Suddenly, my lips parted and I began to speak.
““How long ‘ave ye been waitin’ foer me?” I could hear myself say with an Irish accent.
Maybe reading all those Jane Austen books would count for something. I could keep up with this, right? Even though... it wasn’t really me talking. It was just a memory.
His eyes sparkled as he leaned over and offered his hand to me—or her. I or...she, we grabbed his hand, moving to our feet. Before she or I could muster a word, Darce uncurled his first, revealing six ruby red seeds.
“Do you wish to be with me?”
I couldn’t make my mouth move to speak. Instead, I was simply trapped inside the shell of this woman—Leora. I could see inside her head, which felt weirdly intrusive. They had known each other for some time. He had met her when her mother’s eyes had been turned the other way; he had even come to her rooms in the middle of the night. There was a history between them—in this lifetime.
Her mother. I saw a flash of the familiar face—my own mother. Darce had been right. She was the same.
Leora giggled, as if she hoped he were playing a game, and lifted a seed from his palm. The seeds that tied Persephone to Hades. The seeds that would keep her soul—the Goddess of Spring—bound to Darce. Well, Hades.
And as she slipped it onto our tongue, I felt a sudden lack of air. The seed began to grow and move along the roof of our mouth. It was growing into a long, tangled vine. Suddenly, it twisted down our throat, and her hands instantly moved to her neck. My eyes opened wide as I stared at Darce—his face fearful, confused.
“P-Persephone?”
He reached out a hand, but she took a step back—gagging, gurgling for help. I could feel the vine twist down into our gut, clenching around our ribs and organs. Blood began to pool from my mouth, and I tried to scream. I tried to wake myself from the dream. Had this been the way it had happened? Darce had merely found her, offered a seed and she died before his eyes? Everything was growing black; our knees gave out as the other end of the vine twisted out from our mouth, and into our nose. Morpheus was right. There would be consequences.
I wanted out. I didn’t want to be a part of this anymore. How could I have known the pain I would experience in a memory? I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to scream. I wanted Morpheus to wake me—to bring me back to reality. Darce’s hands were on me then, wrapping around us tightly. His voice was wracked with grief.
“Persephone... don’t go,” he gasped. “No!”
And then there was stillness; as if the world had suddenly stopped in time. The vine disappeared from my mouth and my body, leaving my throat feeling sore. How bizarre. To eat a seed and then die after? It didn’t make sense. My body plunged forward, like falling hard into water and then resurfacing. I was almost too afraid to open my eyes and find what else was in store for me.
“Fiery Celena, you are bewitching.”
I had no control, yet again, as my vision cleared. I was somewhere else. I wasn’t choking anymore and my throat didn’t hurt. Instead, the feeling of dying was replaced by a stupor I had only experienced once in college: I was drunk. Two strong arms caged me between them and I looked up, unable to move or put any distance between us. Then I locked eyes with a man.
A beautiful man with European features and long, dark hair.
I knew his eyes though. It was Darce, just like the last man in the memory was him, too.
As I spoke, my voice wasn’t my own. “No, I am drunk, and so are you, my dear Niccolo.”
There was a party going on somewhere down the hall, but he looked at me like a lover might and we were alone. Two people, somewhere in history, pining for each other in a darkened hallway. In secret, just like before. A thought crossed my mind—Celena’s mind—and it made me blush. Whatever she was drunk on was enough to wake a sleeping monster and she was hungry.
For Darce.
We, and by that I mean, me and Celena, took his hand in a fit of laughter. It was strange—like being on autopilot. We pulled him towards a flight of winding stairs. It was obvious they were too consumed by one another to notice anyone else who might have been watching. We took him to her room, which was splendid and lavishly decorated, and teased him until the binding red dress came off. Darce’s eyes were on Celena, but it felt like it was me, and I desperately wished I could cover myself up.
She was a tease, much more confident in herself than I ever was or hoped to be. But she loved Darce. I could feel it and I think he loved her, too. Or maybe he just loved that she was Persephone, and that he had found her. Celena was different than Leora, but I still felt a connection to her. Maybe it was that we shared the sleeping spirit of a Goddess, maybe more.
“With this,” he purred. “You’re mine.”
We took the red seed he offered from the crystal bowl in her hands, but the second Celena bit into its crisp flesh, the juice dripping down as she swallowed, I felt the instant pain. I felt her throat collapse, the delicate muscles swelling until there was no air left to breathe. I felt every spasm in every limb, all while Darce’s tears and sobs filled our shared ears. She wanted to comfort him, but the lights were dimming and she was cold. Experiencing death twice in someone else’s body, spent watching it from their eyes, was the worst of my worst nightmares. I was trapped inside their final moments.
As I squeezed my eyes shut, I could feel Leora’s panic and Celena’s loss. But most of all, I could feel their hearts breaking each time they were parted from him. Again, my body plunged into darkness, surfacing once more.
I wondered how many more lives I’d experience. How many more deaths I’d have to be a part of. I wasn’t sure how many more I could handle. How had Darce endured all of this? Hesitantly, I opened my eyes and found myself staring at a tall man with those same eyes. I already knew it was him. His brown hair was combed back, though slightly tousled. He wore a white, buttoned shirt with a brown pair of trousers and suspenders. He reminded me of Jack Dawson from Titanic.
The air around us held the faint hint of smoke and booze. I realized I was in a bar of some sort. The dress this body wore was straight from The Great Gatsby movie. Was I in the ‘20s?
“Winnie,” he said softly. The sound of his voice was her undoing.
Suddenly, her hand, or rather, our hand, shot out and grabbed his suspender, pulling him closer. His hands cupped our face as his lips slanted over ours. Winnie, was it? Her chest exploded, like a star shattering in the universe. It felt like sunshine—her happiness was warm and full. I found myself ho
lding back my own personal tears. How could I be so connected to something so raw? So intense? So intricately woven through time? Darce and Persephone were soulmates. They were bound to each other, pomegranate seed or not.
His hands slid to our beaded skirt and carefully began to pull it up towards our waist. Everything inside of me—her—tingled. I wasn’t sure if I wanted this to continue or end. I could already predict where this was going. I felt her adjust her legs, parting them to make room for him; the sound of piano keys startled me. Piano sex.
I knew if I were back in my own body, my cheeks would be burning with embarrassment.
Just as I felt his hands pulling me closer, he suddenly dissolved; I was left in the bar alone. Her heart was beating fast from the desire of wanting him. I felt her feet move to the ground, and slowly, we began to walk out into the streets; out to where older versions of cars moved along. I could hear the faint sounds of jazz music playing in the distance.
Where were we going? It seemed with each step, her mind began to race through different faces; different memories. A woman with bright red lipstick, tilting her chin towards a piano player across a bar. Darce. A man with dull blue eyes offered her a large and bright diamond ring, all the while asking, “Be mine?” A shiver of pleasure passed through her as she recalled Darce’s whisper— “I’ll never let you go.”
The weight of a thousand grievances tied itself to her—and she was sinking.
Winnie was in pain. She was heartbroken. She had been left behind. Where was Darce? Why wasn’t he here? Tears rolled down her cheeks as she lifted her hand to her mouth, biting back sobs. Just ahead, I could make out the large, familiar looking bridge. I recognized it from movies and books. The Brooklyn Bridge. We were in New York City.
“Just a little bit more, Win” she murmured to herself. As she moved her hand from her lips, her eyes glanced down at the large, fancy ring on her finger. Marriage. We were married. I felt betrayed...angry. How could Darce have allowed this to happen?
Her shoes crunched against the rubble as she began to cross the bridge. She was far from the walking path; far from the eyes of passersby. She was near the trolley rails, right near the ledge.
‘Please just walk,’ I begged her, ‘Please… We can find him.’
But I knew she couldn’t hear me. She stopped and looked over the edge of the bridge. Beneath us, the east river was dark and vast. This was the end. I knew it was the end. She did too. She seemingly embraced it. Her mother’s face flashed before our eyes; I sucked in a breath upon recognition. She still appeared the same. And then his face.
Darce’s human face. Tony in this lifetime.
Her fingers trembled as she grasped the steel ledge and carefully hoisted herself up. I wanted to close my eyes. I wanted this to be over. I wanted the dream to end. Was each life Persephone lived, to end so tragically? Did this mean I would meet a similar ending? I was helpless as she climbed over the rail and stared down at the river. With one last glance over her shoulder, she let go and fell into the stinging water.
The current was strong. It pulled us in, tugged us down deeper until water filled her lungs.
I sat up gasping. My lungs stung, as though I had just choked on a ton of salt water. As my eyes adjusted, I realized I still wasn’t in Morpheus’s room. Instead, I was in a dismal cave; dark and damp in a cavern far from Darce’s palace.
But in the distance, I could hear his voice.
A strange cackle echoed around me, followed by the sound of a woman’s voice. I eased onto my feet and followed it through a twisting, narrow hall. Where was I? What was this? Suddenly the hall opened to a large, grey room. Three figures stood before Darce; their hands holding different, glowing objects.
As I squinted, I could make out their faces, despite being hidden underneath their long, black cloaks. But slowly, each of them began to lower their hoods away from their faces, revealing their breathtaking beauty. The one carried a golden spool of thread; life. The other, a pair of large shears. And the last, held a long strand of golden thread, exposing it to Darce.
He appeared as he did now. His dark, almond eyes gazed at them as his hands lazily slid to his pockets. He was dressed in black, with the silver emblem of the Underworld embellished on his shirt.
“The fate of the Spring Goddess,” the woman holding the spool said, tugging on a strand. The other sister grabbed it and slowly unraveled it across the room.
Their smiling faces glowed in the golden pool of light spilling from the thread.
I wracked my brain for the names of the Fate sisters. I knew them. Dad had mentioned them a time or two in his story-telling. At least their true faces were a far cry from the childhood version everyone was accustomed to seeing. I couldn’t imagine they would be happy with it either, given they were depicted as hags.
“You have searched for her soul since your last parting,” the woman with the golden shears continued, gazing at Darce with a strange smile.
“And you have seen her lifetimes, one by one, fade.”
“Where is she now?” Darce demanded. “I want to know where I’ll find the next one.”
“The last, as it seems,” the woman continued, lifting the shears in her hand. The other woman, holding the string raised a brow, brushing her finger over the thinning thread. “There is only one more life for her to share. One last chance to bring your Queen home.”
The last. Wait. Were they talking about me? I was the last life they were talking about? I could see Darce’s longing as he gazed at the long piece of unwound thread. Essentially, it was my life they held in their hands.
“But you can’t tell me where?” He asked, seemingly impatient. He slid a hand through his hair and threw a look of contempt at the woman with the shears.
My chest felt tight as I sucked in a breath.
“Perhaps consult with Tiresias,” one of the women snickered. “He was gifted as a seer by Zeus, after all.”
Darce growled a harsh reply and turned on his heel. The three women were left to wind the strand of thread back around the spool, then replaced it with another. I watched as they cut several pieces of a new thread, ending the lives of countless strangers I would never know. I had always known life was short, precious—delicate even. But seeing my thread... seeing how easy it was for them to cut away so many others sent a shiver of fear through me.
I covered my face with my hands, and wished for the dream to be over. But the scene dissolved into darkness, and only as I peeled my hands away, did I find Darce standing in the middle of one of the grand hallways of his cavern palace. A dripping wet piece of what looked like seaweed in his hands.
“A letter from Poseidon,” Thanatos remarked, who stood beside him. Darce nodded as his eyes scanned the strange written language. From afar, I couldn’t make it out. Just as quickly, he rolled the seaweed between his hands and lifted his chin.
“He’s found her.”
“Persephone?” Thanatos raised his brow curiously as he reached for the message and read it for himself.
“She’s there. In Athens.” Darce exhaled and turned on his heel. “I’m leaving.”
Just before he walked away, Thanatos called after him.
“What will you do, my Lord?”
He stopped and stood silently for a moment. After so many lifetimes, he had endured the worst of her pain. Persephone died. We died. His strategy had changed each time, wooing her until she fell—but it hadn’t worked. Something was different though, and I could tell he was considering that one large, glaringly important fact—I was the last…
Darce straightened his back, the resolve in his expression clear. Thanatos waited.
“What I should have done before,” his voice was full of conviction, “I’m going to bring her home.”
Chapter 25
I slowly opened my eyes, taking in the familiar surroundings. I was back in Morpheus’s room. Back to where I belonged. As I slowly sat up, I felt my chest twist in an aching pain; as though my own heart were breaking into a
thousand pieces. Their history had gone over a stretch of centuries. Darce had never given up. He had searched and searched. And seemingly, in each lifetime, he lost her. Until Winnie.
My fingers curled around my neck as I glanced at Morpheus’s still form.
“Now you know the truth.” He moved to the other side of the bed and slowly took a seat; his eyes heavy with concern. The truth had been hard to witness, and he was right. To feel myself die not once, but several times had been nearly impossible to endure. To witness Darce’s brokenness and desperation was almost more than I could bear.
“That was awful,” I gasped. I brushed a few stray tears from my wet cheeks. My voice was raw and wet still from crying.
“I told you,” he said.
“Who could have done such a thing?”
Morpheus hesitated. “Demeter—your mother.”
“What?” My heart thumped. “That can’t be true.”
“Summer, she would never let you go. The pomegranate seeds? A cruel joke. She thought your time was unlimited, and she is immortal. What was one death compared to another incarnation she could raise again—over and over?”
“The seeds?” I asked, more to myself. The seeds. The piece of the bond between Hades and Persephone. He had used them to keep Persephone connected to him and the Underworld. Demeter had manipulated their use to keep them apart. Each time Persephone ate a seed, she died. Demeter had willingly killed her daughter over and over again, each time there had been a chance of Persephone and Hades being reunited.
“What she did to them—” my voice broke with grief. How could my mother—their mother—be so cruel? How was I to ever escape the pattern of tragedy? If I were the last one, if Darce lost me too—what would happen to him?
“And what she’s done to Darce,” I continued. How could I ever return? How would I ever be able to forgive my mother for what she had done to me, and all the past versions of myself? All in the name of love? A sick, twisted kind of love that looked more and more like possession.
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