Hell Is An Empty Heart (Book One of The Triple Moon's Chronicles)

05 | Drops Of Centenary Diamonds

It was with tight shoulders and heightened senses that Persephone put a foot out of her cage. She took the first steps of a toddler, small and sporadic, leading her further away into the infinite hall with only her sight slowing her down.

Her ravenous eyes indeed wished to capture everything in this new world.

The lion-head gargoyles built to ward off evil spirits should scare her off. Yet she only looked at them with her palms pressed on her cheeks and parting lips. The urge to adopt them all as pets suddenly conquered her.

Sounds of helpless victims shrieked. Their hopelessness cracked the black and white diamond tiles beneath her feet, but the rosy-faced Persephone merely saw it as a new game to play. The one of jumping the fastest to the next colourless tile ahead.

All of this was unfamiliar to Persephone, who had only ever known her mother's artificial womb—the garden of Demeter.

Persephone carried on her exploration between amazement and amusement, not noticing the absence of windows or an end. The farther she went, the smaller the exit became until she glanced around when she heard a fainted voice from a door's chamber calling out for her.

Rushing back, she tripped over the demon nymph's corpse and it burst into a sea of snakes slithering across the floor. None of it bothered her as she dusted off her dress and stood up again. She whirled around to see the other doors dancing around her while they opened and closed at the whispered syllables of her name. Curiosity got the best of her, and she drew nearer to peek at one of them.

Behind the door she was met with the blue of her home, the tint of the sky blending to the one of the Ocean. Persephone laid a hand to her heart in awe at this sight and took a deep breath in until the sound of rumbling rocks made her chin dipped to her chest. She let out a shrill shout when she saw her feet standing at the edge of a steep cliff—the precipice where the crimson hand of a battered woman took hold of her foot. She begged her to save her from a death without burial right, but Persephone shook her head and hit her limb with the door until she let go of her.

As she left one chamber, she fell backward into another one. The abyss shrouded her in her fall. It gave her strength as she landed gently. It made her powerful as she was alone until fear crept in. Crying for aid for her, it took the form of a bearded, emaciated man with long black hair shackled at both his arms and legs. While her body shivered at his sight, he collapsed to the ground to drag his hefty frame closer to her. Persephone hastened herself to rise on her feet with tensed legs, ready to run away from it all.

She squeezed her eyes tight, her hands over her ears, and fled off at full speed. Yet the terrible noises kept on pounding on her—the helpless screams that never ceased to resonate—the distressing pleas that implored her with the sound of water trickling rasping her breaths.

With no where to go but forward, the blinded Persephone bolted ahead. She sprinted fast, darted wild, and ran for her soul when, suddenly, she found herself breathless outside the tall tower next to Cerberus.

The goddess sank to the ground, taking the hound in her arms for a moment of comfort. Not only was she trick-savvy, but the palace of Hades possessed a repertory of its own.

While the dog's eyes were locked on her, his iris widened and lit at her hair—the fire that burned the gloomy atmosphere away. Persephone shone like Sothis in the night sky, with her body dominating the dark matter of the universe.

Chills still rippled her skin, tingling her chest, and with a quiet voice, she said, "Cerberus, I'm so glad to see you."

And she cried. Persephone's tears were like drops of centenary diamonds in their highest grade of purity. Her pain would make anyone guilty of being heartless enough to force the colourless liquid out of her eyes.