Page 4 of His in the Dark

PERSEPHONE

T he walk to see my father seems to take much longer than usual. Each step on the marble floors echoes. Every heartbeat seems slower and heavier. I can barely breathe as I make my way to Zeus. King of the Sky and God of Thunder. I peer out into the clear blue skies and pray it remains such a beautiful shade of cobalt even once our conversation has ended. The anger of Zeus brings about storms that flood with no mercy and lightning that terrorizes the sky.

One breath in. One breath out. My delicate and soft cream sheer gown clings to me as I grow nearer my destiny. The organza flutters behind me, as if it wishes to escape. And yet, one foot after the other, I persist.

The opulent halls of Olympus stretch out before me, decorated with gold filigree and archways that look out on a perfect sky and gardens that are always filled with flowers. As I get closer to the heart of the court, more souls cross my path. Servants go about their duties and courtiers speak to one another in low voices. They watch me as I pass, but none of them say a word to me.

With my head held high, I try to remain calm the closer I get to the main hall. Olympus represents my father’s power. Every part of it is a reflection of his place among the gods. Every step I take reminds me that I don’t have a place here any longer. It has always been so easy for him to rule, seeming to be so effortless, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t keep even the simplest of divine magic. My father is on a pedestal above me, more powerful than I can ever dream of being, and with every second that passes I’m more intimidated by his strength.

It’s too quiet as I approach the main hall. As I enter through the wide doorway, I’m proven right. The court is absent of its typical celebrations. In the main hall, Nike is not hovering over Athena. She graces the prestigious seat next to my father who sits with his back straight on his throne, lightning bolts propped beside him, waiting for when he may need such chaos to punish the skies.

The dais and the thrones are the most opulent pieces of the court by far. It looks to have been made from the sun itself, if you could take the sun and fashion it into gold. Aphrodite stands in front of Zeus and Athena. She and Athena are sisters of different mothers, but both of them are stunningly beautiful and so powerful. The Goddess of War Strategy and the Arts and the Goddess of Love and Beauty. Although Aphrodite has also been known as a victor of war herself. I wish I still felt worthy of sitting with them, the way I used to. As their sister and their counter. The Goddess of Life.

They speak to each other, their voices low, and they do not stop their conversation as I enter. No matter how my heart rages in my chest, they do not seem to hear it nor my steps. I hover near the doorway, not wanting to interrupt, but knowing I have to see my father sooner rather than later. I do not wish to shame him, nor do I want pity. I have failed and all will know it soon enough. My exit will be swift if he will allow. I know my mother will fight for my residence but I do not want war between the Gods. I do not wish her to fight for me. My mother would comfort me, protect me, take care of me, but I don’t want pity. I need only her to love me even after I have fled.

My palms sweat from nervousness. Does my father know I am losing my powers? Have the whispers of the Fates found their way to his throne?

I just want to know what I can do to bring my powers back if there is a quest I may complete. My throat tenses and itches with every syllable of the pleas that wish to be heard. For mercy and a way out that grants grace.

If I were being truthful I would sink to my knees, even here at the doorway, because that is the station I am about to have in life. Without powers I am not worthy to stand in front of my father. I do not interrupt the conversation happening in front of me, thankful for the murderous moments that delay the inevitable and yet dying from them just the same.

Instead, I wait, remembering what Beatrice told me: be careful of your thoughts. They are more powerful than you can imagine. I wish I could control them now. But they spiral and I have no way to stop them.

I laughed when Beatrice told me that, but now the memory brings fear to my being. I am too aware of how negative my thoughts have become. The thoughts scare me as well, and standing before my father, I am filled with fear for what is to come.

Their voices move over me as I try to quell my panic. Athena is my father’s favorite for all to know. Even if he did attempt to kill her mother whilst she was carrying her. Fate may be cruel, but my father is crueler at times. And still, he rules, and he loves us. Although his love is shown in the most brutal of ways at times. Very much the antithesis of my mother.

Athena rises to her feet, holding her shield as if it weighs nothing. Her thick brunette hair spills down her back, held away from her face by a few gold pins. She plants her feet on the dais and looks Zeus in the eye. Her boots are made of a thick leather fit for war and the plate on her gold chest is as well. It is then her owl swoops down to join her, landing on her shoulder gracefully as he drops her Grecian helmet into her hand.

“If you will not aid me, it will take longer, and more lives will be lost.”

I peek up at the dais to see my father raising his eyebrows at Athena. “That is not a problem for me now, is it? The dead are for the Underworld, and they are welcome there.”

“You speak of war, sister?” Aprhodite says, arranging her skirts around her feet. She has lighter hair than Athena, beautiful blonde locks and more delicate features with striking blue eyes. They mirror one another in many ways, such as the shape of their chin, but they differ in others. Aphrodite’s eyes are a deeper blue than Athena’s and they grow darker still.

Althena only attends to our father, “I will return to Sparta, then.”

Aphrodite gives her sister a bit of a smirk.

“Perhaps I’ll meet you there,” Athena answers Aphrodite’s expression with a statement that seemingly dares her to meet on the battlefield. Her tone is not threatening, and Aphrodite only smiles. There is a saying that when the Gods play, mortals die. Athena is known as the Goddess of right and wrong, but there is so much gray in all the realms. Aphrodite has found beauty in darkness, and Athena knows it. The two of them, when paired together, are unstoppable, and a force no one could dare to tame. Yet, at times, they are at odds. Such as when beauty is being judged. For the Gods have egos just as mortals do.

“I dare say you should.” Athena’s smile widens. “You to Athens and I to Sparta?” she offers, a flash in her light eyes. I can feel the power in the room heighten. The deep pull in my stomach as every hair seems to pull on end. The tension comes in waves. It’s an undeniable force in the air.

Lightning clashes above our heads, a flash of bright white aids the loud bang that silences the room. “Enough!”

Zeus holds up a hand, and both of the sisters look to him as if nothing has happened. As if war is merely an outing for them. A reunion of sorts.

“My daughter of life,” my father says. I jerk back from the doorway, realizing too late that he has seen me standing here, listening. My heart stops although his tone is welcoming, as if I am a blessing amongst the irritation my powerful siblings have brought him. Perhaps he does not know. “Join us, my dear.”

He beckons for me, and I force myself to move in through the doorway as a servant comes in from the opposite doorward with a silver tray. There are drinks for all of Zeus’s daughters. Our goblets heavy on the tray. Owls for Athena, shells for Aphrodite and blooming roses for myself. I step up next to Athena and Aphrodite and take mine, my hands shaking. My father is the last one to accept a drink from the tray. He looks at me as he lifts it into the air.

“Cheers to the balance of the world and to those who keep it,” he offers, and all three of us accept. My chalice is a brighter silver than the ones my sisters are holding, as if newly crafted, and I wonder if that is on purpose. It must be. Nothing my father does is without a purpose.

I lift the chalice to my lips and drink the divine wine. It is a sweetness mortals will never know, and I will not know again. My heart beats painfully at the taste. This may be my last toasting with my family. There is no such thing as perfect wine in the land of the mortals. They will never know everlasting life. They will never know the luxuriousness of true divinity. It is sweetness beyond sweetness, something completely pure that could never be created by mortals. It could only be gifted to them by the gods.

I try to hold on to my feeling of belonging, thin as it is, for a few moments more.

“What brings you to my presence?” my father asks me. “Not war, I would hope.” He glances at both Aphrodite and Athena as he says this and the room darkens with the tension. They slip on innocent expressions, but as soon as Zeus looks away, Aphrodite smiles again. They are always at their games. Athena and Aphrodite will never tire of wars and battles and mortal arguments, and they will never run out of time to challenge each other. My sisters are true goddesses.

I take a deep breath. “I’ve come to ask if I may seek the guidance of the seers.”

My father frowns and without moving his gaze from my face, he commands to my sisters, “Leave us.”

At his tone, Athena and Aphrodite sweep out of the room, as graceful as could be, murmuring softly to each other as they go. I have no doubt they are back to planning the war they want to wage for a test of their choosing.

Their footsteps quiet and once they are gone my heart hammers in the empty room. My father knows. I am almost sure of it. A pure breeze blows outside the windows of the main hall. I can smell flowers and plants from the gardens, the scents almost as sweet and pure as the wine. The flowers give me as much life as I give them, although in this moment the act feels quite one sided. It is a scent that will never rot into the ground, merely be absorbed back into the earth of Olympus to grow again.

“You are familiar with the lore,” my father says as though it is a question.

I meet his eyes and nod. His silver eyes pierce into me. I am all too familiar with the lore. Sometimes, I wish I did not know as much as I do.

“You know of what’s to come,” he says with a nod and I cannot help but to nod as well.

My stomach drops and I struggle to swallow, but I try not to let it show on my face. “I wish for guidance still.”

Zeus stares at me for a long time. His knuckles turn white as he clenches his hand one finger at a time as if the movement aids his thought. Even the sounds in Olympus feel fitting to the gods. The wind is quiet and sumptuous and the faint sounds of a saint playing the lyre at a distance can be heard in his pause. It is all perfect, like my father. I am the one who doesn’t fit.

“Why are you not with your mother?” he questions rather than granting my permission.

Maybe he does not know. The uncomfortable feeling in my gut intensifies, but I make myself stand up straight and continue to meet his eyes.

“My magic seems to be...fickle. Since I’ve last gone.”

His eyebrows rise again. “Fickle? As in, worse than before?”

Warmth drains from my face and I force myself to answer, “Yes, Father.”

Outside the windows of the great hall, the skies dim and go gray. The clouds morph to rainy and threatening. They roll past, seeming to crowd in on me. I wait anxiously to see if a storm will break out, sending more lightning crashing before his throne.

“It has been months of fading, I seek only guidance.”

The clouds darken further but no lightning comes. After a few long minutes they lighten again and the sky returns to its former blue, though it is cloudier than it was before. Tendrils of my hair have been blown across my face by the wind, and I brush them back into place as if I did not notice the change in the weather. Surely others have.

My father shifts on his throne, seeming to come to a decision. “You may seek their guidance once this matter with your sisters and the mortal Helen is dealt with.”

“When would that be?” I ask, but he has already turned away from me.

Zeus gazes out the window, with a look of contemplation, like I have not spoken. He ignores my question. This may mean that he does not know, or it may mean that he does not care to answer, or it may mean that it does not matter. “In the meantime, I suggest you practice.”

My hands clasp to my chest. I cannot stop myself from doing it. I know it makes me appear nervous, but once they are clasped together in front of my heart, I cannot let them go. My heartbeat pounds under my hands, growing more anxious without control or knowing.

Maybe Zeus can feel my fear in the air, because his face softens as he gazes down upon me from his throne. “Go now, my daughter. Your power will strengthen.”

What if it doesn’t? I want to ask. Will you make an exception for me even if my presence is a disgrace amongst the Gods?

I know he won’t, and I know better than to ask the question. With how tight it is, my throat would not allow me even if I craved to speak the plea. If I were a child I might throw myself onto the floor in front of him and cry and beg to be saved, it feels as if some part of me wishes to beg him still, but I withhold. It is one thing for Gods and Goddesses to have quarrels and arguments among themselves, but it is frowned upon to be weak.

I incline my head to my father and back away several steps before I turn and walk out the door. I will turn to the seers and relay what the Fates have told me as soon as I am able. I do not feel as graceful as Athena and Aphrodite. I envy them for how beautiful they are, and how confident they are, but I also envy them for the way they can focus on their games with mortal lives. They never have to worry about losing their powers. Their magic is strong and lasting. They never have to worry that their fate will see them cast out from the only home they have ever known, leaving them only with the hope of survival as a garden nymph… or worse, a mortal.

Slightly defeated, and yet still hopeful, I make my way back towards my rooms by a different path, one that takes me through a quiet set of gardens. Clouds still roll overhead from Zeus’s changing mood. The breeze lifts the leaves on the trees as I pass.

I welcome the cool breeze on my face and wonder in its pureness. For I may never experience a feeling quite like this again.

There is a pool of still water at the side of the path. Clouds reflect in it, some of them with the gray bottoms of a thunderstorm. I slow my steps, watching the clouds pass over the water, never touching. That is what my life will be like if I leave Olympus. My home will be like a cloud overhead, reflected in the water of the mortal lands but destroyed with a single touch. The smallest ripple will distort what I can see, and my memory will fade, the way a mortal’s does.

Between two clouds, a darker shadow shaped like a man forms. I am almost past the pool when I see it out of the corner of my eye. My breath hitches and my body freezes. A chill flows through my bones at the recognition. It’s him. A voice in the back of my mind hisses. I know it is the same man. I know it’s him by the shape of the shadows, even if I can’t see his face.

With haste, I walk back along the pool and stop at the center. There are the clouds with their grey bottoms. There is the sky beyond. There is my own face, waving in ripples on the surface.

I watch the clouds reflection for several minutes, but there is nothing else in the reflection. The man is gone. Although whatever feeling has overwhelmed me, lingers.