Page 33 of Hermes
Soon, Zeus’s servants came forth to escort us to his throne room, where only he was present. Hera was spending time away from Mount Olympus, but I was already aware of this. It was why I requested an audience with my father, now of all times, knowing Hera would not be here to be meddlesome, as she always was when it came to me.
Pandora and I trekked down the long hall to where Zeus was seated on his throne, eyeing the both of us curiously as we got closer.
“Hermes, Pandora. May I ask what has prompted this sudden request to see me right away?” he asked.
It was I who spoke up first, hoping Pandora wouldn’t be as nervous, which would allow her to remain calm and simply follow my lead. “I believe Pandora is ready to walk among the surface, father. She is fully prepared to engage with the titans,” I added. “But first, there is something Pandora needs before she disembarks from Mount Olympus,” I shared.
Zeus’s attention then diverted from me over to her. “And what is it you need, Pandora?”
She stepped forward, timid as ever, but then mustered up the strength and courage to speak to the King of the Gods. “I would like to see your weapons,” she requested, with the utmost confidence in her voice. “After training with Ares and Athena, I feel as though I will need to decide on a weapon to use to prepare myself against the titans.”
Pandora’s eyes gleamed as she made this solicitation. Her features were beyond striking, and she was doing everything in her power to persuade Zeus to grant her this wish. I managed to catch her give my father a subtle wink, which left me slightly perturbed. I did not intend for her to be overly flirtatious, thereby making her suspicious in his eyes. That was not what I had instructed her to do.
However, it seemed Zeus was falling for her allure and charm. “Yes. Of course, you can select any weapon of your choosing that you deem fit to take with you.” My father’s gaze then shifted to me. “Hermes, would you please take Pandora to my throne room and allow her to choose whichever weapon she so pleases?”
This was not the answer I was expecting him to give, but it made me leap for joy on the inside. All of this was becoming rather easy, much more effortless than I had anticipated it being.
Soon enough, we arrived in the throne room, with no god or goddess there to follow us. My father’s servants remained guarding the front door per usual, leaving Pandora and me all alone to ourselves in the room.
This was it, the moment I had been finally waiting for, for the past year. Everything was coming together and now, there was just one person left for me to deceive to make this scheme a success, and that was Pandora.
She roamed the room, her mouth gaping open in awe as she inspected all of Zeus’s weapons and thunderbolts.
“Does any particular one pique your interest?” I coyly asked her.
“I’m not sure,” she replied honestly. “It’s all so overwhelming. Do you have any suggestions?” I pointed towards the center of the room, right where the obsidian jar was located. “What about that?”
“A jar? What kind of weapon is that?” Pandora then headed over towards the object. I too trailed just behind her, heading in its direction.
“I asked my father the very same thing when he first showed me this room. He told me the jar contains the deepest secrets of the world in it. But no god or goddess has the ability to open it,” I informed her.
“Then who does?” she asked, eyeing the item with wonder.
“Anyone who is not a god or goddess,” I replied. “So that means you can open it.”
“I can?” she repeated aloud, still fascinated by the jar.
“You would be the first person to ever open it, Pandora. Only you would have access to secrets no one else in this world could possibly attain. Information that even the gods and goddesses are not privy to,” I elaborated to her.
“Really? But will Zeus be angry with me if I open it?”
I shrugged. “I doubt he would. But it’s a risk you have to be willing to take.” Now I was pulling on the strings in her mind. The very strings of curiosity that Hera helped formulate. The Queen of the Gods would be disgraced to learn it was she who helped me in my destructive cause. “What could these secrets entail?” I further softly whispered into her ear.
Slowly, Pandora stepped forward. Her delicate fingers traced the indentations of the jar, feeling its curvatures. She hovered just over it, allowing her fingertips to rise to the tip of the obsidian jar.
There! Right there! Just open it already!
But she hesitated, removing her hand from the jar as if it emitted a heat from it that burned her palm. Then, reluctantly, she moved her hand back over the very tip of it. I watched as her fingers enclosed, gripping it. Then, all of a sudden, she lifted it, her eyes peering into it, wondering what its contents were.
Soon enough, a screeching noise that was painful to the ears pierced through the air. Black, sinister smoke emerged from the jar and scattered all across the room. The floors were covered in a dark haze. It was as if the River Styx had overflowed onto Mount Olympus.
Pandora was beside herself. She let the lid fall to the ground and kneeled down, covering her ears, trying to escape the awful deafening sound that remained relentless.
The scene was more horrific than I imagined it could ever be. I just stood still, observing all the smoke still dissipating from the jar heading down towards the Earth. Smoke that was filled with disease, plagues, famine, war, bloodshed, chaos, confusion, malice, and all things evil. It would soon reach the surface and consume everything in its path.
Pandora stood dumbfounded, unsure of what to do. Her eyes widened as the black smoke no longer lingered. Her head spun back around to face the jar. Those emerald green eyes of hers widened as she now saw me, with my hand on the lid, returning it back to its proper place, closing the jar. Zeus clarified that no god or goddess could open the jar, but left out the very idea that a god or goddess was incapable of closing it. Luckily, I was able to do so without any issues.
Perhaps Pandora thought I was performing a good deed by doing this, when, in fact, I had seen enough. There was enough pain and anguish that was let out of the jar. My greatest fear was also releasing what was at the very bottom of the obsidian jar, which washope.
No. I would not allow hope to escape the jar. It needed to remain in there and out of the hands of the mortals below. They and the gods needed to suffer, and they needed to do so without access to hope.
For when Crocus vanished before my eyes and was permanently turned into a flower, no one left me with any sense of hope that I would somehow get him back, get him to return to who he was, and where he rightfully belonged, which was wrapped in my arms, kissing me, loving me.
And so, I would make sure I gave no one else hope in this world. It was the perfect form of revenge. The perfect form of justice. Now, I could finally allow Crocus to rest and I could move on, now that he had finally been vindicated.
