by Logan Keys
Some pass by without glancing her way, but one phantom lands in front of her. It solidifies, bones cricking and cracking, sunken eyes and an open yaw for a mouth. Spindly arms with claws for hands spike out into the air.
Cold sweat gathers on Persephone’s forehead. She chose this way because everywhere else in the Underworld requires her to be either dead or to present herself to Hades at the Place of Judgment. She thought this was the better option, but now she’s not so sure.
The phantom’s teeth chatter a clattering language she doesn’t understand. This creature could belong to Hades’ Night Army—minor gods and goddesses, daemons, ghosts, and lost souls of the dead who are the Dark Lord’s to command.
Sniffing the air, the creature hisses. Persephone’s chest tightens. After an eternity, it sighs and drifts off, becoming a wisp of smoke in the dark.
Persephone’s legs turn to water. The temptation to turn back is overwhelming, but Narcissus awaits her there. She’d rather contend with the ghosts.
Nymphs rise from the river with dripping hair, black eyes, and long teeth. Persephone, they hiss. You have to go back. Kill Narcissus for what he did. It’s his fault, his fault.
Their words seep in. Vengeance. Persephone rolls the taste around her tongue. She should do it. Kill Narcissus and end this once and for all.
Turning around, she realizes she’s lost. She had a purpose for being here, but she can’t remember what it was. “I—,” she starts, but her own name eludes her.
You don’t know your name! One of the nymphs shrieks with laughter. Join us. We’ll give you a new one. Yours is so unlucky. It brings chaos and destruction. Your parents were wrong to name you that.
Their words swirl and creep in until there’s no air to breathe. Persephone takes a step toward the water. “I can dive in and be reborn.”
Ice drips on Persephone’s head. She stares up at the ceiling to where white, thick spikes hang from the roof. A true daughter of Summer, should not be here, her mother’s voice is in her head.
Rousing, Persephone remembers who she is and what she’s doing. The cold will kill her, drain her life force, and bring certain death. Ironic considering the ruler of this realm once made her feel so alive.
“Begone with your false promises, river witches,” Persephone hisses. Her breath comes out as tendrils in the air. “I will not be joining you and my name is just fine.”
The creatures shriek and laugh, blow kisses, and curses. Some splash water and then dive into the murky depths out of sight.
Persephone opens Cyane’s handbag and takes out the mirror. Lifting the veil from her face, she stares at a self she hardly recognizes. She has to go somewhere no one would know—not even Cyane. Cryptic has never been Persephone’s forte.
Pressing her lips together, Persephone whispers into the glass: “Take me to where I was happiest.” The mirror cracks, splitting into shards.
Persephone feels the tug and pull of magic. It hooks behind her navel and drags her between realms. Closing her eyes, she pictures that perfect day in the Greek Isles with her family.
She swirls upwards through the mist and turns her face toward the expected sunshine. Breaking through the barrier, cold washes over her and chills her to the bone. She lands with a thump on something soft and springy.
Persephone’s eyes snap open. She’s bouncing and tumbling on a huge, wrought iron bed before she’s swallowed by cool, crisp sheets. Pulling the covers down, she finds she’s naked, completely and utterly, without a stitch of clothing to be found.
The room is ornately furnished, predominantly black and gray with tiny touches of red. Persephone claps a hand over her mouth. The mirror interpreted the place where she was happiest as naked in Hades’ bed.
Hades
Hades’ rests his hand on top of his desk. White streaks cover the marble until the top is a solid block of ice. His brothers, Zeus and Thanatos, have invaded his inner sanctuary and brought trouble with them.
Narcissus Summer rages: a pacing pestilence of accusation and arrogance. “I want to know where Persephone is. She said you’d summoned her here, Hades, and I demand you bring her to me.” He steps forward and scowls. “It’s dark in here, easy to hide someone. Why don’t we get some light on the subject, so we can all see?”
Hades taps his fingers on the desk at the cheap shot. The desk splits and the cracking sound punctuates the air signaling his displeasure. His eyes aren’t made for the sun, but for the dark where shadows and souls hide. Something this spoilt Summer cretin wouldn’t understand.
“I thought everything was bright in Summer.” Hades rakes Narcissus with his eyes. “Apparently not.”
“You forget yourself, Narcissus,” Thanatos warns. “You have no authority to make any demand of Hades. He’s the King of the Lands you’re standing in, not to mention the Lord of Winter. Whereas you are the master of nothing and no one.”
The veins on Narcissus’ throat stand out. Hades fantasizes about how easy it would be to snap one. Jab a finger in his neck and watch him turn to stone.
“Hades.” Zeus slides into the conversation. “Narcissus just wants to know if you’ve seen Persephone or know of her whereabouts. There’s no harm in confirming one way or the other.”
“No.” Hades meets Zeus’ eyes. “The last time I saw her was at the funeral when she took the sacred fire from Narcissus and lit her father’s pyre with it. I haven’t seen her since.”
Narcissus turns a dangerous shade of puce. Hades keeps his face impassive. Inside, he wants to call Hermes and arrange an official Host of Messengers to run throughout the Lands declaring the banns of proclamation in honor of Persephone’s courage.
“You’ve had your answer,” Thanatos says, scowling at the Pretender of Summer. “Now be on your way.”
“She humiliated me.” Narcissus restarts his pacing. “Refused to make peace and we were to be married. This cannot be borne.”
An iceberg dislodges in Hades’ chest and he climbs to his feet. “Clearly, she’s given you her answer. I’d take it as a resounding no. Now if you don’t mind, I have better things to do with my time.”
“Not so fast,” Narcissus hisses. “I demand justice. This is an insult, deliberate, and calculated. I call for blood. Take this as my formal challenge to Persephone Demeter for the ruling title for the Land of Summer.”
The room erupts with Zeus trying to talk Narcissus down and Thanatos roaring his rage. Hades’ cold anger burns and his breath turns to icicles that cling to the ceiling.
Persephone is gentle, even by human standards, let alone the rules that govern this world. She’s a vegetarian who melts down at even the thought of violence. Having her fight to the death with Narcissus in the arena would be the equivalent of pitting a rabid hellhound against a fluffy, timid bunny.
“No,” Hades snarls. “Her bloodline symbolizes the hard-fought peace between the Lands of Summer and Winter. As the Lord of Winter and the King of the Underworld, I forbid it.”
“Forbid it?” Narcissus’ voice rises into a shriek. “The law is on my side and rules are rules for everybody in these lands. I’ll be informing the Host to run the banns. I’m calling for blood. As you know, no Land can protect her until she answers my challenge, and that includes both of yours, Hades. If she doesn’t attend, her life is forfeit, and all Lands have a duty to execute the abomination on sight.”
Narcissus departs on a wind leaving his stench behind. As the door slams, the icicles from the ceiling drop onto the marble floor. The clink and clash are the only sounds in the silence.
“I really don’t like him.” Thanatos scowls. “I’m not sure why you do, Zeus.”
“It’s not a matter of liking him.” Zeus huffs. “It’s because he’s right. I don’t like what’s happened in the Land of Summer any more than you do. Everything Narcissus has done is within the laws of Summer. As for Persephone,” his golden eyes rake Hades, “she could’ve accepted the peace and married him. That would’ve saved us all this drama. Now there’s
going to be war and conflict. I hate to say it, Hades, but the easiest option is to hand her over and be done with it. Besides, I doubt even Narcissus could bring himself to execute someone as beautiful as Persephone. It’s more likely to be a forced marriage.”
“I. Will. Not. Allow. That.” Hades rakes a hand through his hair. “We don’t know what Persephone’s death would do to the eco-system of our Lands, not to mention the mortal world above.”
And what it will do to Persephone, just handing her over to Narcissus knowing she’ll be raped for eternity. She lives in Hades’ memory as bright as the Summer’s day he hasn’t seen since Winter claimed him. Allowing that light to be extinguished would be an immortal sin.
“I doubt Narcissus has thought that far.” Thanatos’ mouth turns down. “He doesn’t seem to think beyond himself.”
“She’s no threat to Narcissus.” Hades shakes his head. “We can find Persephone and ask her to formally abdicate her rights to the throne. Summer can choose someone else as their ruler. As Winter did when the old Lord died without heirs, the title automatically came to me as the next in the line of succession.”
“Yes, but in your case the old Lord was dead.” Zeus shakes his head. “Summer won’t choose a new ruler while Persephone is alive. And all of it is redundant now because Narcissus has officially challenged her for the title.”
“And you tried abdicating.” Thanatos levels an even stare at Hades. “They wouldn’t let you do it. Remember?”
Hades buries his face in his hands. “She’s never wanted leadership and to go along with this is cowardice. Worse, we’ll be sanctioning murder.”
Zeus begins to pulse. His energy melts the ice in the room turning it into puddles. “It isn’t cowardice or murder. Persephone has two options: marriage or death. No one is ever going to allow her to run away and live in peace, Hades. Any of her descendants would be a threat to the new Lord, not to mention she would be a rallying point to anyone with a grievance against Summer.”
“Even if it potentially means death to their abundance?” Hades counters. “Surely Narcissus couldn’t be that stupid?”
“He’s not stupid.” Thanathos glares at Hades. “He’s dangerous and doesn’t care.”
“The law is the law.” Zeus shrugs. “We should know, our predecessors wrote most of them and it’s too late to change them to get us out of this mess.”
Their predecessors: the old gods and goddesses who nearly destroyed this world. Some chose exile and remain in the shadows. Others ripped the fabric of the universe apart and disappeared into a realm of their own.
“Actually,” Thanatos adds with a smirk, “that’s a rather limited interpretation of the law. You’re right on the marriage or death part, but there’s a third option staring us in the face. A husband of Persephone can answer the challenge for her.”
Thanatos’ dark eyes fall on Hades. It takes a moment for Hades to understand the inference. “What?” The puddles on the floor re-freeze into small ponds. “I have no need of a wife.”
“Why not?” Zeus guffaws. “We’re all in need of a woman and Persephone is quite the woman. Beautiful, I’d say easily the most beautiful in the Land of Summer. You two were in love once, mad for each other. I’m sure the old spark is still there.”
Persephone is the most beautiful woman in all the Lands and all the worlds. They were once very much in love, but that was before they found out Summer and Winter could not co-exist. Just as heat kills the cold, cold kills the heat.
If Hades was solely the God of the Underworld, Persephone could have been his Queen. But when the old Lord of Winter chose to enter the Elysian Fields, Hades’ hair turned dark and his skin fair. He had become the Lord of Winter and a Harvest Queen could never survive a winter.
The ache of losing her gives notice. Hades tries to push the thought away, but it never fully dies. He and Persephone couldn’t overcome their natures. No matter how much they wanted to.
“That was an eon ago,” Hades protests. “Before Persephone or I came into our full powers. I’m as dangerous to her as Narcissus is.”
“At least you’d be kinder about it.” Zeus gives a half-smile. “Now, I have to go. I have some business to attend to.”
Thanatos remains quiet until the doors close behind Zeus. “Hades, someone needs to put Narcissus in his place. He’s going to be a real problem, no matter what Zeus says. Spring is already complaining of Summer encroaching into their Lands and this is just the start of Narcissus’ reign. What happens in this world effects all the worlds, you know this. The only person who can thwart him without a full-scale war is Persephone. Find her, do it quietly and quickly, and marry her.”
“What am I supposed to do?” Hades snarls. “Kidnap her? Force her into marriage? Let history repeat? You do remember the last time a Hades kidnapped a Persephone? It sparked war and changed the balance of our world. It brought the seasons we now live by.”
“Details, details, details.” Thanatos jabs a finger over Hades’ protest. “Just do it.”
“She’ll never survive living here.” Hades shakes his head. “Spring or Fall, maybe, but not in the Underworld when it’s ruled by Winter.”
“She’s not likely to survive Summer, either.” Thanatos tilts his head. “Find her before Narcissus does. She’s dead otherwise and I know you don’t want that. If I find her Shade knocking on my door, I’ll be disappointed in you, Hades.”
The words echo long after Thanatos leaves. Grabbing his keys, Hades heads out into the darkness of the tunnels. He seeks peace and quiet, but the air is alive with rumblings.
A phantom drifts toward him and falls at his feet. She still wears the shape of her last life, red-hair and buxom, but her skin is paler here than it ever would have been in the Lands she came from. Dropping her head down, the ghost grovels and kisses at Hades shoes.
My King. My Lord. My Savior. There has been a terrible mistake. I should not be here. My husband and children await me in Spring. They told me they could not live without me. Please, my King, let me go or they will die. I will give you anything, do anything, but I don’t belong here.
She peeks up, a coquettish smile on her face. It may have been charming in life, but not in death. Now it carries with it a sad desperation that Hades is all too familiar with.
Some phantoms will do anything to get out of the Underworld. They beg, cry, threaten, haunt, and bargain. Some even offer the lives of those they say they loved beyond measure to take their place in order to escape their fate.
Hades steps back. “I am not unmoved by your pleas, but if a Soul finds its way here, it’s because it belongs.” He rattles the keys in his hand. “I am the Keeper of Souls, not the releaser of them. If you come with me, I can take you to where the memories and ties of your life drift away. You can have peace.”
He extends a hand, but the phantom slaps at it. She slides backward on the ground, clasping her arms around her knees. Her face tilts and mouth opens into a cavernous maw. The teeth probably once so pretty in life elongate in death and ooze black oil.
“Come now.” Hades steps toward her. “You don’t want this. You don’t want to be a bitter Shade that wanders my tunnels caught between your old world and your new one. Where you’re going is not bad. It’s peaceful and eventually your loved ones will find their way to you.”
Persephone. The phantom’s eyes are cunning and calculating. You loved her once, yes? I remember. The Lands were abuzz with it. She reaches forward begging on her hands and knees. They say a Harvest Queen is in the Underworld. Take her and let me go.
Hades scowls at Persephone’s name on the phantom’s lips. “It doesn’t work that way in my world. You cannot barter someone else’s life for your own with me because your life is over.”
He raises a hand and light tinged with blue glows in the darkness. The phantom lifts into the air and flees but cannot escape Hades’ magic. It catches her in the back and pushes her down the tunnel out of his sight.
Persephone, Persephone, Persephon
e. Hades rolls her name around his tongue. It’s been a lifetime since he’s allowed himself to think about her.
Golden from her head to her toes, Persephone shone from the inside out, as if she’d been spun from the sun itself. A legendary beauty, once in a generation, that had suitors flocking to her in droves. All the bright young men of the Lands laid down offerings of their families’ wealth and power to woo her, but she turned down every single one.
Such was her fame that Hades heard about the woman destined to be Harvest Queen all the way in the Underworld. Zeus had given Hades a mirror and when he’d spied Persephone in the glass, he’d thought she was a trick conjured by his brother. Hades had made his way to the boundary of Summer and climbed to the Lands above to see her for himself.
Persephone was sitting by a river in the moonlight with her feet dangling in the water. When her turquoise eyes locked with Hades, he finally understood his predecessor—why the original Hades had risked it all to possess Persephone’s ancestor.
Hades wanted to pretend this Persephone had no effect on him, but he was tumbling and spiraling into Lands he’d never ventured, never knew existed. Persephone took his hand and fell with him. They found themselves in the lands of love and hope and wishful thinking. Lands where promises were made and were never expected to be broken.
“It’s destiny,” Persephone said of their love. “We’re meant to be together. We’re named for each other.”
How wrong they both were. They were meant to be apart. Summer and Winter: opposite ends of the lifecycle spectrum.
They appealed to Gods and Goddesses, Kings and Queens, Lords and Ladies, but their relationship was refused. Persephone’s tears could have filled all the rivers of the Underworld, but it made no difference. The rules of the Lands were clear: A Harvest Queen reaps the abundance of Summer and a Winter Lord ensures the Lands sleep until they are awakened by Spring.
Now, Summer brings a storm that threatens all the Lands. Once Narcissus calls the Host and runs the banns, Persephone will be alone and a target for anyone who wants to court favor.
