Beginning
“Excuse me…” I say.
The man is lying on the grass, his face almost touching the water. He stares at his own reflection. Here the stream is calm and quiet, the water barely moving, but clear and clean. I come here often to be alone, to enjoy the peace. The woods, the water, the wind, everything seems quieter at this spot.
But now he’s here.
“Hello?”
He doesn’t look at me. Just stares at his reflection. I move closer, cautiously. Mother has told me to never approach strange men. Or satyrs. Or centaurs. Really anything male.
But this man seems so engrossed. I don’t think he knows I’m here. I can see my reflection standing high over him in the water. And I can see his expression better.
Adoring.
I lay down next to him and look deeply into the water. Is he seeing something I can’t see?
I look past his reflection and deeper into the water. There’s nothing special. The same tiny fish, the same gray-brown rocks, the same green moss.
Turning to look at him, his face so close to mine, I examine. He’s very handsome. High cheekbones, a strong jaw, perfect skin. I look into the water to see his eyes which somehow look dazed and focused all at once.
What am I missing?
“Did you lose something?”
No response.
“I’m Persephone. What’s your name?”
Still no response.
“Look, if you’re going to be rude…” I huff impatiently. “I am a goddess, you know?”
He completely ignores me. Just stares at his reflection with the same strange look.
*****
“Alright, where is he?” Mother asks.
“Over here,” I say, leading her out of the brush and into my clearing. Then I stop.
He’s gone.
“I thought you said there was a man here.”
“There was.”
I look up and down the stream. I run up to a bend, then down to another. He’s nowhere.
Walking back to Mother I shrug, “I guess he left.”
Mother is standing over the stream in the same spot where the man was lying. The grass is flattened exactly where he had been. She’s looking down into the water.
“Mother, what is it?” I ask, coming up beside her.
“Is that the man?” Mother asks, pointing into the stream.
His beautiful, blank eyes stare back at me. This is the first time I’ve seen a dead man.
*****
“Dead?” she asks.
“Dead.”
I sit with Kalligenia in the soft grass as she braids my hair. Her hands are light and slow as they pass over one another.
“He was so beautiful,” she sighs.
“You knew him?”
“Yes, his name was Narcissus.”
For a few moments she says nothing. I let my eyes fall closed as she braids.
“We discovered him a few days ago.”
“Hmm?” I blink hard. I’m falling asleep.
She leans around closer to my ear, “I said we discovered him a few days ago, Rhodophe, Peitho, Zoe, and I,” She goes back to braiding, “We were looking for you, in fact.”
“Hmm,” I still feel sleepy, “Must have come while I was away helping Mother. Explains how he got so comfortable in my clearing.”
“Yes,” she pauses for a long time. Then, “It’s such a shame. Would you believe, I think every single one of us was in love with him?”
“Him?”
Kalli is my best friend, but sometimes I don’t understand her. It’s not her fault or mine. We’re different creatures in some sense. Being a nymph she shares certain traits with her sisters like being light-hearted, which I love. I like to watch the other nymphs who lounge around gossiping or frolicking and playing. But sometimes I just want to sit quietly and Kalli is the only nymph who likes doing that with me.
There are times I wish I was more like the nymphs. They’re always so cheerful, so buoyant, like bubbles forever rising, never weighed down. They know exactly who they are and what to do. Each group has different domains, but all of them watch over me when I’m playing. There are naiads, nymphs of the waters, who appear to blend into the flowing, fresh waters they prefer. Peitho is one of them, so she often visits Kalli and I at my spot by the stream. Oreads of the mountains are a little more tough, a little more adventurous, and have a tendency toward speaking very bluntly. My friend, Rhodope, proves that, being a bit combative at times. I actually sort of admire her (though I could never be like her). Leimonads, on the other hand, prefer meadows and have a kind of optimism and openness which makes you want to lay out in the sun and just be. Zoe, she is so sweet, she’s my favorite of the Leimonads.
Nymphs are my earliest companions and have been as consistent in my life as Mother. They’re always around and I stand in awe of them so often. It feels to me like they see everything, always have something to say, always are full of bright, bouncing energy. So with them I’m never bored.
Mostly…
Kalli is a dryad specifically. All dryads prefer to be among the trees. Their bodies reflect that, allowing them to blend in so well that if one wasn’t looking one wouldn’t notice them leaning casually against the bark or lounging high on a branch. If you do sense her or any of her dryad sisters, you’ll feel a lot of peace, she’s generally very content and so adaptable. That’s what I love most about her.
That’s why it’s so strange to see her sad.
Kalli goes on, “You should have heard Rhodophe and Peitho fighting over which one of them he fancied more. But honestly, that’s nothing compared to how Echo reacted.”
“Echo? The cursed one?”
She doesn’t seem to have heard my question as she continues wistfully, “He was just so beautiful. I’ve never seen another man like him. And you know me, I’m not usually like that. The others, yes, but…” She pauses, continues braiding, then, “If only he’d had eyes for me.”
Kalli wanted him to see her. So did Echo apparently. All of them – Narcissus, Kalli, Echo – coming and going from my spot, falling in love, falling in the water, and I never knew.
Until the day he died.
I raise my eyebrows. I don’t know what to say. He was handsome, but something was off about him. Still, I try to be sympathetic.
“What was it you loved so much?”
She sighs, takes her time considering, “You know, it’s funny because I’m not actually sure. I felt like I saw something in him, something familiar. But also…it was like something undiscovered. I wanted to be the one to bring it out. Like, if I could be the one who saw that something then show it to him and then show it to everyone. Does that make sense?”
“I think…”
“It’s kind of like that time, you remember, when we found that fox den? Even though we’d seen the mother and babies before there was something about finding where they hide. He was like that.”
Of course I remembered finding that den. We kept it a secret, guarded it for weeks. Not by drawing attention to it, like patrolling it would, but rather by distracting everyone. We called attention away from their thicket and suggested playing in the stream, going to the meadow, the cliffs, the beach, anything other than where the mother and her pups were. Despite our diversions, Rhodope seemed to know we were hiding something. And frankly, I’m not as quick-witted as Kalli. It’s a good thing she had ideas, otherwise I would have been stammering and bungled the whole thing.
Still, we managed. We’d wait until everyone else was busy, either too upset because of arguing or too giddy because of frolicking, and sneak away. It didn’t matter whether the mother and her pups were in the den or not, there was just something special about the place. About knowing the entrance and this is where they came and went day after day. If they were there we didn’t disturb them. They’d look at us and us at them and there was curiosity, maybe a little fear, but mostly just interest. A sense that we didn’t quite know their natures and they didn’t quite know ours.
But I don’t see how the man has anything to do with the vixen and her pups.
“I’m sorry Kalli,” I search for more words, but I’m not sure what to say.
“I just really loved him, ya know?” Her voice cracks, “And I’ll never see him again.”
She starts crying. I turn and hug her as she sobs. Patting her back, I remember...
When Mother and I talked after I found him, she said this sort of thing happens to mortals all the time.
“He just looked so strange, Mother. Like a statue.”
“Yes, his soul is gone.”
“Where did it go?”
“To the Underworld.”
“What’s the Underworld?”
“It’s where the souls of dead mortals go when their lives here are over.”
After that we walked away.
Mother hadn’t been upset, but Kalli certainly is.
I wish I knew how to make her happy.
Suddenly branches and bushes around us break and snap. Before Kalli and I have broken apart we are surrounded by a gaggle of nymphs surrounding a heated conversation between only a few.
“And she won’t talk to anyone, won’t say a word,” Peitho says.
“Yes she does!” Rhodope counters.
“When? I was just there. All she does is cry.”
“But she can communicate.”
“No, I told you she was cursed –” sweet little Zoe breaks in.
“She can only repeat what others say.” Peitho clarifies.
“ – by Hera. Said she was too chatty,” Zoe finishes.
“Yeah, I know. Everyone knows, straw-head,” Rhodophe’s gritty comeback causes the
other oreads to roll with laughter, but Peitho raises her voice, crashing over the noise, “A-ny-way, it’s not because of him that she’s like that.”
Sweet little Zoe pipes up, too sympathetic to be embarrassed by the remaining laughter, “But she was never this grief-stricken. Even right after the curse was placed.”
Peitho plunges on, “That’s true. No, listen!” she admonishes the other giggling, chatting nymphs, “I was with her soon after and we tried to figure out how she could still communicate. She could nod and shake her head, but as far as speaking she could only repeat others.”
“So, what’s your point?” Rhodope asks, folding her arms.
“That she’s really given up now,” Peitho says.
“Because of him.” Zoe concludes sadly.
“Who?” I ask, “Who are you all talking about?”
Zoe’s light voice and bright eyes ring sweet with sorrow, “Echo.”
“Being in love with Narcissus,” Rhodphe’s clarification lands with a thud.
I shake my head, “I’m sorry, I do not understand the obsession with him. Not that I’m criticizing it,” I say as I think of Kalli sitting right beside me, “but I just don’t understand letting your whole life waste away because one person doesn’t, I don’t know, notice you.”
“Oh you will…” Rhodophe responds flatly.
“Maybe she won’t. It’s different for gods,” Zoe adds.
Rhodophe leans forward aggressively, “For gods. But not always goddesses.”
Peitho’s laugh, like a bubbling spring, bursts, “What are you talking about? Hestia, Athena, Artemis – they couldn’t care less about what a man, or anyone, thinks of them.”
Rhodope, firm as ever, shrugs, “Yes, but they’re the exceptions.”
Zoe nods, her head lowered submissively, “The gods don’t have to seek approval like we do. They decide who’s in favor and who’s not.”
Rhodophe presses, “You both are crazy. You know there’s a hierarchy and some gods are more powerful than others. It’s always a matter of who answers to who and staying in the good graces of the powerful. And even then –” she gestures off into the distance, “look at Echo. Zeus didn’t step between her and Hera.”
“We all have to be careful,” Kalli adds.
“Right,” Rhodophe continues, having gained momentum, “and it’s not just us. The gods are careful of each other. You never know when things might completely change. One day you’re at the top of the pyramid, the next you’re wasting away in the Underworld.”
Peitho scoffs, “No god has ever been banished to the Underworld.”
“What about the Titans?” Rhodophe counters.
“They’re not gods.”
“But they were the rulers. They thought they were invincible.”
“Yeah, but we’re talking about gods, that’s different.”
I put my hand up, “Wait, Titans?”
“Yeah,” Rhodphe shrugs, “You know, the Titans.”
I raise my eyebrows.
“You don’t know about the Titans?” Zoe asks softly.
I shrug.
“Persephone!” Peitho shrieks.
Kalli leans forward, tilts her head to look at me, “Sure you do. The Titans…they ruled before the gods…,” she smiles confidently, “you know.”
I shake my head, “There was something before the gods?”
They all look at each other. I feel a strange tension building. I have the clear sense that this is information I was expected to know. And the unspoken question in the air is, Why has no one ever told her?
Glances continue to be exchanged, the sort that seem to consider several things, one of which, I sense, is Mother.
All the nymphs start chatting simultaneously, directing their comments at each other and none at me.
“It was a different time then. I mean, it’s over now, so…”
“Right, it’s in the past.”
“No sense in talking about it.”
“Wait, no,” I press, “I want to know. Who are the titans? Why won’t you all tell me?”
They all go quiet again. The gentle forest breeze can’t even break the awkward silence.
But Rhodophe does, “I mean, there’s not much to tell.”
“So tell me then,” I say.
They all exchange those annoying glances again.
“Kalli?” I prompt.
She shrugs, “It’s… I mean, it’s sort of a strange story…I guess it depends how you tell it…”
Peitho adds, the words rushing forward, “That’s probably why your Mother never told
you.”
“Yes,” Zoe agrees, “it would be painful for her.”
“Why?” I look around, but they are all avoiding eye contact, “What?”
Kalli shrugs, “It’s probably fine. It’s the truth after all.”
“You tell it then,” Rhodophe says.
“Adamanthea would tell it better than me.”
“Yes,” Zoe agrees, her voice sweetly pining, “Adamanthea you tell it.”
Not only am I shocked that there may be an entire eon of time I’ve never heard of, but I’m also quite shocked that they are encouraging Adamanthea to tell the story. She is usually so quiet and seems to blend in no matter the environment. I’m not even sure what kind of nymph she is. She carries the gravity of an oread, the brightness of a leimonad, the peace of a dryad, and the calm continuing flow of a naiad. Perhaps I’ve always kept a bit of distance from her for that exact reason, because she baffles me. I certainly never imagined she’d be a good storyteller.
Adamanthea glances around, looking to see what the consensus of the group is – mutual anticipation. This must qualify as permission because she begins:
“In the beginning there was only Chaos. All which you know did exist, but in a strange mass, bounded and unbounded, formed and unformed. The moist with the dry, the bright with the dark, the hot with the cold, the heavy with the light. They were and they were not. Then Kronos - Time, and Ananke - Inevitability, joined together. They formed Chaos into the shape of an egg and as serpents they twined themselves around it, squeezing steadily, steadily, steadily until the egg exploded. All that was known, shooting through space in random motion, was soon joined by the mysterious third, Eros - Primordial Energy, who fell in love with every form of Matter. Kronos, Ananake, and Eros all performed the miracle of transformation upon the bulky mass of Chaos, bringing forth each and every being, essence, and energy to be seen and separated and experienced.
From this came Father Sky, Uranus, and Mother Earth, Gaia, and the deep dense darkness of Erebus. Among them, within them, through them, Kronos, Ananake, and Eros infused themselves. Kronos hid in Gaia - Mother Earth; Ananake buried herself deep in the womb of Erebus - Darkness; and Eros soared through the heavens moving Uranus - Father Sky, to long for reunion with his now severed beloved. This was all as the Originals had dreamed, thus setting all of creation and consciousness in motion.
Now Uranus united with Gaia and Titans began to emerge. Helios, the Sun Titan, Selene, the Moon Titaness, Hekate of the crossroads. There were many more and they were favored, but the one-eyed Kyklopes and the hundred handed Hekatonkheires, these were despised by their Father. And so rejection, pain, preference, these came from Inevitability and Energy, the opposing forces of attraction and repulsion. These energies, moving through Uranus, prompted him to force his children, the Kyklopes and Hekatonkheires, back into their Mother Gaia. This suppression and stagnation left Gaia with no peace which pressed so greatly upon Kronos, Time, the mover of all things, that he came forth and with his sickle severed Uranus from his creative power. No longer could Uranus bring forth new creation and so he, once believing himself to be over all, now was the slave of Time, never to create for himself again.
Kronos, who Gaia saw as her beloved son and savior, was now free upon the earth and embodied. He mistook his form for his essence and thinking himself the King of All, determined to create through matter whatever came to his imagination. Now, in this form, Kronos had become both Originator Divine and Originator Profane, Essence and Titan, a being of power and will, but disconnected from Truth. Willfully forgetful and full of Pride, he created.
Gaia rejoiced in her son’s glorious imagination and manifestation. He covered her with wildness of all forms, animal, plant, and mineral. He filled the waters with creatures small and great. The other Titans, Helios, Selene, and innumerable others, stood in awe, watching him from their heavenly distances. This is the Golden Age of Creation, his mother and siblings declared, and none opposed him.
But Hekate, allied with Erebus where Ananake - Inevitability dwelt, and full of remembrance, was stirred immediately by Kronos’ desires. She knew all of his thoughts the moment they were conceived within him and therefore knew that he was full of Forgetfulness and Illusion. This she too knew would lead to disaster. And so it was, at that very moment, she transformed into that which Time could never resist – Change. She became Rhea, the Flowing One, who when Kronos beheld her was instantly filled with Eros because she was All That He Is and All That He Is Not. Furthermore, he had no resistance, not remembering that he had been one with All That He Is And Is Not, having forsook Memory and Truth for Pure Exploration. Thus Kronos, in his unconsciousness, mated with conscious Rhea.
As a result of their union, Ananake - Inevitability, dark and terrible in her Truth, speaking from Erebus, her voice both a whisper in Kronos’ ear and thunder through sky, declared that one of Kronos’ children would betray and overpower him, just as he had done to Uranus. This is no punishment, this is only the inevitability of action following action.
Kronos, being full of illusion and pride, refused to accept these results and so he schemed. He would not force the children back into the earth, as Uranus had, rather he would swallow them whole. Thus, he reasoned, creation would come forth, but all power would be his. Clever am I, he thought to himself, and when baby after baby came forth from Mother Rhea, flowing inevitably from their union, Kronos swallowed them, making himself the designer and impediment of all creation. One by one the gods, which you know today, Hestia, Hera, Demeter, Hades, Poseidon were swallowed, born to be imprisoned by their own maker.
Rhea, Hekate in disguise, knew all within Kronos’ dark depths, being allied with Truth and Darkness herself. She allowed it to be, for still connected to Time in essence, which Kronos had willfully forgotten, and allied with Inevitability and Primal Eros, she knew the cosmic power of Patience. Flowing in peace she came to the time, the knowing, that after this particular union with Kronos, the next son, who would be Zeus, would rise up and roll the wheel of Fate forward. Thus, when he was delivered, she hid him and presented Kronos with a stone which he swallowed whole.
Zeus, hidden from Kronos, grew. And when the time came, Rhea, who was Hekate, knew he must overthrow his father. As Zeus was approaching, Rhea fed Kronos, who is always voracious, poison of her own making which caused him to vomit up all the previously swallowed children. Being gods, immortals, they came forth both as subjects and wielders of Time, Inevitability, and Eros, so that, just as their Father had done, they willed to no longer be infants, but powerful and formidable gods.
At this moment Zeus arrived, and, having chosen as his weapon the mighty thunderbolt, shocked his Father, Creator, and Distorter, Kronos the king of the Titans, and sent him hurling into Erebus.
Quickly, having learned the lessons of his father, he knew to bring all things into Harmony, a thing which is still a mystery and not complete. But Zeus was wise enough to try and so he and the gods did what they could – they established Order.
Order settled over Time, Inevitability, and Eros giving them wheres, whens, whos, and whats through which they conducted their energies. Ananake - Inevitability, and Erebus remained together, but Zeus declared over them the name Underworld and ordered into them the dead, the Titans, and That Which Is And Yet Also Not Seen. He gave the rulership of this realm to his most enigmatic brother, Hades, who could never be false and yet knew silence.
Zeus then saw wisdom in united division and thus he separated the domains of great water and dry land. Demeter and Poseidon were given their separate realms, devoted to cultivation and flow, bringing forth and burying deep, to create and to confine with balance.
There were still many other concerns, concerns of the Heavens and Heart, which Zeus knew he must attend to, so he brought to the skies with him Hera and Hestia. Hestia, to guard the flame which warms all Order, keeping it fueled and flowing, at times fierce, but always stable and steady. Hera, to be his wife because Order must be balanced, thus they would unite and conflict, embodying the tension which leads to all innovation. And somewhere in the Heavens mysterious Eros continues to suffuse his energy through all things.
Now we live upon foundations upon foundations upon foundations. The Order founded on Wildness founded on Experiment founded on Forgetfulness founded on Chaos. The second generation of gods continues to emerge, being brought within the bounds of Order, keeping the Titans and Kronos acknowledged and yet buried deep in the Underworld. We forever rejoice at the wisdom and strength of Zeus who refuses to forget what is past and maintains our ordered present. Praise him, praise Olympus, home of Order, and praise all the Gods. For your greatness and glory we thank you.”
Adamanthea’s oratory concluded, all the nymphs bow low, facing in my direction. In my mind a question is creeping –
What comes next?
And it is only once it’s finished its full circle through my brain that I finally realize – they are bowing to me.
******
Everyone is busy now. Kalli is braiding Peitho’s hair. Peitho is gossiping with Rhodophe. Zoe is listening intently. Others are splashing in the stream, sunbathing, lounging in tree branches.
Adamanthea is alone. She sits near the edge of the cliff, her knees curled up against her chest, her arms curled around her knees. Wind whips her hair chaotically, but she is still.
Having left my spot and the other nymphs behind, I watch her, a strange longing stirring inside of me. This place, exactly where she sits, slightly between sea, earth, and heaven, feels surrounded by energy. Maybe the primal energy she told of.
Approaching quietly, I take the space beside her. To my right the cliff edge, before me the cliff edge, beside me she sits. This height and the force of the wind should be what’s making me nervous. But it’s not. It’s her presence.
I sense there is more to this story. And I don’t know how to ask her to tell it to me, but I desperately want her to. I just feel it ended too soon.
Knowing how silly I sound, but being too curious to care, I simply ask, “What happens next?”
She stays still, wind still whipping her hair in every direction. Her eyes don’t fall, her breathing doesn’t change, her arms stay tightly enclosed around her knees.
Silence lengthens. Perhaps she does not want to tell me. Perhaps I am too nosy, too impertinent, not worthy of knowing.
She does not look old, but she feels ancient. I feel so young. I feel so small.
“He was too when Rhea gave him to me.” She talks against the wind.
I watch her face, “You know what I’m thinking?”
She nods, “You are very free with your thoughts.”
“I am?”
“You will learn. Time helps.”
I look down, worried, “Not everyone can hear my thoughts, right?”
She shakes her head slightly, “It’s a learned skill.”
Sighing with relief, I look out, see the beach then the ocean then the sky. A strange phenomenon is occurring. It seems a storm is gathering on the horizon. While here on the cliff we are in warm sunlight, the strong, cold breeze tramples over us. Below, the golden sand looks soft, inviting and warm yet powerful waves crest and crash, pull and push. Near the horizon there’s a line in the sky. Above is bright and blue, below dark and undifferentiated. A mass of deep gray is moving, it must be, at the rate the wind is blowing against us, but it looks still.
“Is ‘he’ Father? Rhea gave him to you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To raise him. To protect him.”
A tiny lightning bolt flashes between the deep gray mass above and the dark misty mass beneath.
“You took care of Father as a baby?”
She nods, watching the storm.
“Tell me about him.”
“He was a sweet baby. Most are, of course. I suppose he had to be.”
“Why?”
“Because,” she sighs, “if he’d been fussy, needy,” she shakes her head, “he would have been found.”
“Because… being needy draws attention, you mean. Kronos would have noticed him.”
“Yes, but also because Kronos was sovereign over the entire planet. There was only one dominion and it was all his.”
“What does that have to do with Father being a sweet baby?”
“Sweet. That was a poor choice of words. I should say… content.”
“I still don’t understand.”
“Your father was raised under strange circumstances. I did my best and… I am often praised, even by him. But…it was unnatural. Still…”
“Yes?”
“Yes, well, Kronos had dominion over the sky, the water, and the earth. He thought there was nowhere anyone or anything could hide from him. He forgot about the spaces between.”
I nod, trying to encourage her to continue.
“I wrapped Zeus in a cloth and suspended him from the branch of a tree. Therefore, he was not in the sea, nor the sky, nor the earth. He was in-between. I fed him goat’s milk and kept him in that space, careful to never hold him or let him out to play. He grew, of course he grew, but… he had to be protected. I did that. I kept him protected.”
“Until he went to fight Kronos.”
She barely nods. Why does she seem sad?
“You did a good job,” I smile, “Father defeated Kronos. And now we have Order and the gods and this wonderful world. If it weren’t for you, Zeus wouldn’t be here. None of the gods would. Even me, I wouldn’t be here.”
Lightning flashes over the ocean, connecting the sea and sky. A moment later deep thunder resounds.
“But you think this isn’t the end,” she says.
“I guess not. Maybe it is… But it just feels like it’s been so long since that story ended. Don’t you think?”
She finally turns and looks at me. She looks so young, but I know she is older than Father. Older than Mother.
“What do you think?” she asks me, gusts of wind forcing her hair to obscure her features.
“Probably a new story has begun. It seems like that’s what happens.”
I look out at the horizon. I can no longer see the line in the sky, no longer see the brightness above. Gusting wind, shards of rain, a darkened sun. Gray, not gold sand below. And all around us, so cold. We’re at the edge of the cliff and the edge of the storm.
The thunder rumbles, insistent and near. An approaching storm would normally send me into hiding. But what we’re approaching, the two of us, feels both fleeting and tantalizing. The fragility of the moment.
She watches me. I watch the storm.
“It seems like all the stories are the same. Someone wants to be the best, to rule, or have power. Then someone else wants the same. They fight. One wins, one loses. The same story over and over,” I say.
Lightning flashes over the water, thicker, closer, and thunder reverberates around us.
“There’s got to be a different story. It just doesn’t seem right. The same thing over and over and over. It’s boring.”
Thunder rumbles, louder, closer. Wind howls, whips furiously all around us. Flecks of rain needle our faces.
She watches me, I watch the storm.
Then, turning away from the storm, I look into her ancient eyes, “What if we just tried something different?”
BOOM! A bolt of lightning strikes the sand below, barely missing the edge of the cliff where we sit, as electricity and sound fizzle, ripple, crash and shatter through us.
Stunned, eyes wide, I stare into the storm.
She grabs my arm, “It’s time to go, Persephone.”
******
“Mother?”
“Hmm?” The storm having moved on and night fallen, the two of us lay on a soft bed of ferns, a full bright moon high above us in the clear black-blue sky. She’s almost asleep, her body curled around mine, her arm wrapped protectively over my waist.
I strain my neck to stare at the full moon above as I ask, “Am I an Olympian?”
“Yes dear.”
“But I’ve never been to Olympus.”
“You will though. It’s your birthright.”
“Why have I never been?”
“I’ve answered this before.”
“I know, but I can’t even visit?”
“Not until you display your special talent as a goddess.”
“But why?”
“I think it will be more special this way.”
I sigh, my eyes on the bright moon, looking for a woman’s face, perhaps a chariot wheel, maybe the hem of a cloak. Is there a Titan there or is she in the Underworld with Kronos and the others? And where is Hekate, without whom Zeus could never have risen? I consider asking Mother, but then I think of her, just a baby, swallowed whole by her own Father. How terrifying to be trapped inside him.
No, I can’t ask her.
But what’s their story? The Titans and the Gods? Is it simply over now? And what about mine…mine which feels… unbegun.
Still, there is the matter of my ascension to Olympus. Mother’s insistence that I must demonstrate some talent. That could be a beginning.
But I have done nothing. And nothing seems to call to me. They even bowed to me today. Me.
What could I do? What might make me worthy of the nymphs and their admiration? What story might they tell of me someday?
How to make them smile…to make them happy…
They are always happy, always smiling and playful.
No. No, what am I saying? Not always. Not today. Because of him…because he died… because they will never see him again…
Tentatively, I begin, “Mother?”
“Hm?” she replies, sleepily.
“Have you ever been to the Underworld?”
“Course not.”
“Why?”
“It’s a dreadful place.”
“Really?”
“Mm hm.”
“What’s it like?” I prompt her.
“Oh, I don’t know. Dark, cold, full of monsters.”
“And that’s where the souls of all mortals go?”
“Yes.”
“And it’s dreadful.”
“Yes.”
“Then why do they go there?”
“They have no choice. It’s simply what happens.”
“How does it happen?”
“They die.”
“Like the man died.”
“Yes.
“But how did he die?”
“He fell in the water.”
I squint and my face screws up as I think of every time I’ve gone in water and all the times the nymphs and I have played, splashed, swam. This is obviously not my path to the Underworld.
“Falling in water kills mortals?”
“It can.”
“Why would the man be so close to the water if he knew he might die?”
“He probably just tripped.”
“No, he was lying down with his face almost touching the water.”
“What do you mean?”
“When I saw him he was laying down and he was staring into the water…I don’t know at what. But he was very intent.”
“Hm.”
“His eyes moved around, but not too much, not like he lost something. His mouth was a little open. He sighed a few times. I thought maybe he might start crying at one point.”
“How strange.”
“Why do you think he did all that, Mother?”
“I can’t imagine why. From what you’re describing he sounds like a very odd mortal.”
“Maybe…” I hesitate, having come to why I brought this all up, “But Kalli said she and the other nymphs were in love with him.”
“Yes, well…nymphs...”
“Kalli seemed very distraught.”
Mother snorts.
“I think she would have married him, Mother.”
Mother sighs, I’m not sure if she’s exhausted or exasperated, “Persephone, my dear, nymphs fall in and out of love faster…,” she yawns, “faster than…,” she finishes yawning, “oh, a lightning flash. I’m sure Kalli will be just fine.”
I hesitate, but I push on, “I don’t know. I’ve never heard her talk like this before. It sounded like she would sit and stare at him and he’d only stare at the water. She said, ‘I wish he’d had eyes for me’.”
“Typical. A man in love with himself.”
“In love with himself?”
Mother sighs again, “Oh, nevermind.”
“He fell in love with himself?”
“Well…” she huffs.
“Mother?”
“I – of course there’s no way to know, but given everything you said, sounds to me like he was staring at his own reflection.”
“And he fell in love with it?”
I feel her shrug.
“How can that be?”
“I don’t know. Just based on some of what you said – but enough now Persephone. Go to sleep.”
I stare at the moon. I know I shouldn’t bother her any more, but… we are on the subject. My chest feels strange, tight. I ask anyway, “Would you ever go to the Underworld?”
“No.”
“Would you do it if someone asked you to?”
“No.”
“Not even to rescue someone?”
“I don’t know… Perhaps.”
“What if it was someone who meant a lot to you?”
She sighs loudly before answering flatly, “Maybe.”
“Would you go if I asked you to?”
“Persephone,” Mother sits up, “What’s all this about?”
I sit up too. “I know what you said…about nymphs and all. But I was talking to Kalli today. She was really upset about that man we found. She said she loved him, Mother.”
“And she wants to go to the Underworld?”
“No, Mother. I was thinking we could go. To save him.”
“No, absolutely not.”
“But Mother, you said it’s a dreadful place and Kalli loved him so much. Shouldn’t we –”
“No! Absolutely not!”
My head falls. I can’t look into Mother’s beautiful amber eyes. They are so deep and gold, steady and powerful.
“He is a mortal, Persephone. It is his destiny to go there. It would have happened one day in some fashion or another.”
“But Kalli –” I begin, my head still down.
“Kalli will be fine. She’s better off falling for another immortal anyway.”
“But she said she loved him.”
“Yes, and she’ll be in love with the next boy and the next god and the next nature spirit and on and on…”
“She’s not like that!” I raise my head, defensive, “She’s not as silly –”
“Persephone! Enough!” Mother slashes at the air with her hand, “As much as I love your… compassion, we will not be going to the Underworld.”
She glares at me with those deep amber eyes, daring me to say another word. I look down, struggling to keep my face neutral, to shut down both thought and emotion since they are bringing out her wrath.
I feel her beside me, lying back down, “Now enough talking. Go to sleep.”
I lie down too. Her arm curls around my waist then constricts.
The words wriggle out, not because I want them to, but they won’t be confined, “Maybe I could just go.”
She sits up, quick, exasperated, “Absolutely not.”
I sit up, slowly, carefully, “I would be ok.”
“No, you wouldn’t.”
“I could go get him, come back, and –”
She shakes, or rather, twitches her head, “It’s not that simple.”
“Why? What’s the problem?”
“You could get hurt.”
“How?”
“There are dangers.”
“But I’m immortal, I can’t die.”
“There’s more to it than that!”
“Like what? What do you mean?”
“NOTHING! NOTHING!”, her eyes are such a bright, pale amber, almost white. I’ve
never seen them like that before.
“NEVER ASK ME ANOTHER QUESTION ABOUT THE UNDERWORLD! NEVER!” Her
wild, bright eyes lock me in.
She can destroy anything. She can destroy me. The reality shocks and settles me in an instant.
I nod. Slow, clear, obedient.
“You’re with me and we’re never going to the Underworld, so...so…,” she takes a few steadying breaths, “so…there’s nothing to worry about.”
She smiles, blinks a few times, and pats my cheek lightly. “Now, enough talking. Time to
sleep.”
