Page 3 of His in the Dark

There is nothing I can say to comfort her.

There was no hesitation or question. That is my fate in Olympus, they made that very clear. I will lose my powers in Olympus. And yet they could only offer one reprieve.You will be given a choice and it is only in that moment that your fate may change. Until then it is others that control your destiny.I stare at the mere human whose sole purpose is to tend to me. She has sacrificed for my comfort in the last decades. I have been the most important work of her life, and I know she feels as if I am being taken from her.

Beatrice glances downward, but brings her eyes back to mine as she speaks again. “Have you told your mother?”

Have I told her? Have I gone to the gardens where she spends her days providing harvest and generously giving and giving to the earth realm? She raised me in those gardens, protecting me like she would protect her own heart.

My mother provides so easily. A single prayer is all she needs and abundance reigns for anyone who thinks to whisper her name, Demeter. That is power I thought I could inherit.

She has never had to fear being cast out from Olympus. The people who pray to her are right to love her, because she cangive.

I hear the prayers of those who call to me for life, and I can do nothing.

“I have not gone to my mother. It is not a conversation I look forward to having with her.” What would she think of me, losingmy powers? She did everything she could to protect me and guide me, so the fault must be mine.

“Your mother is a great Goddess,” Beatrice says quietly. “She may be able to offer you wisdom.” She stands in her black robe with the lights from the candle still flickering around her in the foyer of my quarters.

“Why do you press me about my mother so?” I question her. “It is not like you to be so vocal.”

The smallest pause tells me that Beatrice is choosing her words with great care. She has always spoken carefully but now she weighs every word as if it is the last time we will speak to each other.

“There was something in my cards today,” she begins. “A relationship of sorts that would ease your worries.” Tarot. The divinity that she seeks is not unlike the Fates.

“Perhaps it is you, Beatrice.” I do not need the cards to tell me that. Beatrice has always eased my worries.

She huffs a short laugh as if my interpretation is ridiculous. “I am only human, my lady.”

“Do not discredit the power of magic,” I tell her, though there is a certain irony in it, as I am the one losing my powers. I do not think magic will save me. It will not save me in time to preserve my place here. If anything does come of magic, it will come too late. The Fates have told me such.

Beatrice sighs. “If only I were of cunning descent. But alas.”

“All magic can be learned. I know.” I say this without feeling. My powers are weakening by the day, not growing stronger. If there was a cure to find in magic, certainly I would have found it.

“All magic can be learned,” Beatrice agrees, in a far more hopeful tone than mine. “You could always turn to magic, my lady. The Gods are gifted, but magic is for all of us.”

Again I scoff at her answer. “Allow the possibility of magic working,” she says. “That is all you must do. Simply allow it.”

It hurts to hear her have faith. Hope is the long way of saying goodbye.

“I used to think magic was for children. But then I learned of the Gods. You taught me anything is possible.”

My throat tightens and I’m unable to answer as I pass her candles with care and make my way to the cream silk settee. As I relax on it, attempting to ground myself, Beatrice continues.

“As long as there have been humans, there has been magic.” She asks, “Love spells were the first, weren't they?”

“Mmm.. it’s the first written, but I imagine there were others who did not write their intention,” I tell her with ease.

“I read the book from Egypt, the oldest book of magic in coptic,” she says with delight. I imagine it was offered to Hekate, the mother of witchcraft would have such delight with such things.

“And did you learn any spells?” I ask her, genuinely curious.

“There was one for love, but I do not think I crave to use it.”

I take her statement in and I do not know what possesses me to speak at the moment, but I say my thoughts with hopelessness, “I am not much different from mortals I think.”

Beatrice comes to sit beside me, the settee creaking slightly. “You are the daughter of Zeus, King of the Gods, and Demeter, Goddess of the Harvest. The divine is within you.”

The last of the day’s sunlight fades outside of Olympus as the wary seconds pass. It is no less grand in the dark. Milky shadows and gold lamplight decorate the walls in my rooms. There is endless grandeur outside my windows, the sky and the clouds paying constant tribute to my father. They even honor my mother, who uses her gifts above them and below. They do not honor me. Soon I will be like a flower in a mortal garden, alive only for a short time and offering only a pleasant thing to look at. Beauty is not enough for me to keep my place in Olympus.

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