Page 29 of His in the Dark

HEKATE

T he skies around Olympus crack to pieces. Lightning splits the clouds with hot, blinding fury. It is deafening—even more so than the wind, which whips through the elegant buildings on Olympus. Curtains snap at me like vipers. My dark purple, nearly black, robes curl around my calves, the hem kissing my ankles.

I’ve never seen Olympus like this before. The darkness in the skies is … an omen. One I haven’t witnessed since the fall of the Titans.

When it is at peace, Olympus is a realm of golden sun and navy blue night. Brilliant, colorful sunrises and stars that twinkle like diamonds. It is sturdy and strong. It seems to pin the skies in place, keeping all that it touches in balance.

Now, it is a kingdom lost in a storm. Black and gray clouds crowd out every beam of sunlight. All they let through is the lightning, which strikes so close to me as I enter that I can smell the burning air left behind. Pausing, I consider why I’m here. I do not trust the cobblestones beneath my feet. Any one of them could plummet away underneath me at any moment.

This cannot continue. This cannot hold. Olympus will fall away underneath me, or be thrown into the sky. It will be torn into pieces, me among them. It appears only the edge crumbles now, but in time, it will cease to exist and the crossroads will crack.

I need to find Demeter. Every doorway I peer through shows nothing but disarray. Blankets have blown off beds and landed on chairs. Vases have turned over, spilling their contents onto the floor and ceramic shards laying on cold floors.

They have fled. In the madness, they take cover.

The lightning shakes all of Olympus. No part of it is being spared. This is because Demeter’s sorrow and rage are larger than all the realms of the Gods.

If I can only find Demeter and speak to her, there may yet be a chance to right this. A way to change the path the Fates have set out for all of us. A way to change the decisions that have led us off that path. I do not know, but I will try.

Demeter’s sobs are heard as the pounding thunder relents. They wrench my heart in two. They are sobs of pure despair. She has lost her child, and now the world will be lost to her, too.

Nothing could possibly compare to the loss of a child.

This catastrophe feels as if it is on behalf of all mothers who have lost a child. All of them, everywhere, their hearts spilling out through Demeter herself.

What mother would stop searching? None, I think. They have to be forced to give up, and even then, they never put the burden of love down.

There! I turn, my torch in hand and hounds behind me. In darkness I follow the call of her cries down that hall of withered roses. Through that door. I proceed down the halls of Olympus, but it is the same as before. Every doorway looks in on an empty room, or else it looks in on a room with people huddled in the corner, holding tightly to each other’s hands and weeping.

None of them are Demeter.

I do not find her.

Demeter’s voice comes from another direction, her howls piercing my ears. They are so close she must be here.

Then, the next moment?—

Distant. Out of sight.

What foolish spell has been cast to betray me?

I halt, reigning in anger as I still and wait for the world to show me the truth.

Once my mind has settled, I vow to myself that I will not loosen my grip until Olympus is saved. Until the realms are once again in balance. Life requires Death and cycles come and go. We will mourn and as they do I will hold their hand. This though… this lowly place and threat of destruction… this warrants a great threat.

I must remain in balance myself. I must look toward the future and see it with clear eyes, no matter how harrowing it looks.

“Demeter,” I call, drawing my robes close to my body and standing up straight against the wind. The flames of my torch blow and my hounds gather, one on each side of me. I can withstand it. I can withstand anything. “Come to me!”

Her cries meet my ears, but they are too legible to be spoken on Olympus. The lightning is too loud. The wind rages. She’s speaking to me as if in prayer, and every word rings in my ears. It is a prayer sent directly to my heart, and I could not ignore it even if I wanted to.

They will all freeze, she cries.

I am listening, I think, in the pause she takes for breath. I hear you, Demeter. I know it must feel that way.

If all the mortals have perished, they will all freeze, and we will freeze with them.

We are all woven together, I think. If she cannot hear my words, perhaps she can sense the emotion behind them.

Gods will fight among themselves. They will tear us apart.

Not if we stop this ! I think. You must stop this. I command her.

Demeter speaks again—prays again—so quickly I know she has not heard. We will all tear each other apart. It will be war. Prepare for war.

“Demeter,” I shout again, but her cries turn to more wretching sobs. “Demeter, it does not need to be this way!”

She does not listen. Sorrow has made her deaf to reason. You cannot listen if you do not wish to hear and she does not. A chill runs through me as I search again for her, quickening my pace.

It does not need to come to death and destruction. It does not need to come to fire and brimstone and buildings collapsing and lives being snuffed out. The Fates do not need to cut so many threads at once.

Whatever I think at Demeter, she must not hear me. She continues to cry. To wail. Her anger has already been unleashed.

Oh, where is she? I need to see her. To speak to her. To reason. She has lost, but there is much to gain.

It will not be easy. It may, in fact, be the most difficult thing Demeter ever has to do. She may hate me for it in the end, but I will make that sacrifice.

I must.

Demeter does not come at my call.

Is there anywhere I have not searched?

The courtyard.

I skirted the courtyard when I ran through the halls, traveling around it, but not into it. Her voice had echoed in those smaller spaces. Maybe it was echoing from the courtyard itself. Maybe she is there, summoning life from the heart of Olympus.

I rush toward the courtyard as fast as my legs will carry me and my hounds run beside me. I will catch her when she falls. I will hold her as she needs to be held. For she is a just and righteous Goddess. What pain brings her here will wane. So mote it be.

It is in just as much disarray as the rest of Olympus. Petals have been torn from flowers and fly through the air. Delicate trees lay on their sides, the roots stretched to the breaking point. Branches snap and spear across the courtyard, carried by the wind.

Demeter is not here.

The only God standing in the courtyard is Zeus.

He has his back to me, staff in hand and his toga draped recklessly. Wine spills from an overturned glass as he unleashes another bolt from his staff. I know with a single glance that this is Demeter’s threat coming true. Absolutely true. She will not stop it now, and calling to her will do no good. Demeter is not in any position to listen.

I had held out hope.

I should not have wasted time hoping.

I go to Zeus and call his name, letting it ring in the air as I stand tall behind him. My heart breaks for Olympus and for the mortal realms and even for myself. The magnitude of this shift overwhelms me. This is not the way it is meant to be.

“Zeus,” I shout over the noise of the storm. “Where is my Demeter?”

Zeus turns and looks at me as if he cannot understand what I am saying.

I scream at him, my hounds growling at my side, “Zeus! The realms are collapsing. You can see this with your own eyes! Bring me Demeter!”

This is the last hope I hold—that Zeus can influence Demeter. That he can reach down to whichever realm she has fled to and bring her back to Olympus. Or send me to her.

Lightning flashes over us, so bright it turns the sky dark.

“You’ll have to find her yourself,” he says. Useless. The drunken God is useless. “She has fled me.”

“If you will not air me, I will go.” I turn my back on Zeus.

“Where are you going?” he shouts after me, his powers carrying his voice through the screeching wind.

“I’m needed elsewhere.” I will return to Persephone in the Underworld. Zeus does not need to know this. If Demeter will not come to me and cannot hear me, and if Zeus cannot get Demeter’s attention, then I must go to where I can make a difference. Persephone must be returned.

He catches my arm, stopping me. “Don’t do it, Hekate?—”

Ripping my arm away I stand tall against the God of the Sky. “I know what you did.” The storm is too intense to say more than necessary. It cracks around us and the God stares back at me, lightning in his eyes.

He searches my face. I am certain he is trying to decide whether I am telling him the truth. “I do not lie. I am privy to what led to this.”

“Do you know where she is then?” he asks, a brow arched. After a moment, he huffs a humorless laugh and then shakes his head, taking a step back. “Of course you do. Everyone will know soon enough.”

More lightning rattles Olympus. Screams rise from all around me—both on Olympus, and from the mortal realm as well.

“The war has begun,” I shout to Zeus. I lower my voice to add, “Because you allowed it.”

Zeus narrows his eyes. He has decided, then. “Obtain Persephone. By any means necessary.”

“I did not come for your blessing on such things. I came for Demeter.”

Zeus throws his hands up, his face flushed with frustration. “She has gone, Hekate. As has the sanity in the world.”

“Balance will be,” I insist. Another wave of lightning bolts streaks down, drilling molten holes into the very foundation of Olympus. “Promise me, before the next full moon, my daughter will be returned, although I fear she is not what she once was.”

His gaze falls to the stone beneath us and I make no promises to the God. All I insist upon is that balance will be restored. In whatever capacity that may be.