Page 7 of His in the Dark

Cerberus wags his tail, pushing another of his heads into my palm. He has six sets of ears, and he wants all of them scratched, and all three of his heads stroked. I indulge him, as I always do.

“I will have my queen, Cerberus.” Cerberus lets out a quiet bark as if in agreement. As if he knows of her beauty and her power that will change the world forever more. I know it in the marrow of my bones. “Anyone who stands in my way, in my realms or any other, will perish at our hands.” I continue stroking Cerberus’s heads and let my mind wander. From here the screams from the darkest depths of hell are not loud but they are still audible. “I have earned her. She has been promised. She is already mine.”

PERSEPHONE

The 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. Everypart 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 wouldcomfort 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 daisand 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.

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