Hell Is An Empty Body (Book Two of The Triple Moon's Chronicles)

10 | A Dust Devil

"I love my husband very much." Psyche sobbed. "Every day in the dark, I was longing for his presence. Even if I didn't see him, my hands learned the shape of his body, my ears were yearning for the sound of his voice, and even my lips were aching for his kiss."

Tender memories swamped right before Psyche's eyes about her mysterious husband. The one whom a premonition had said to burn the world under a powerful fire unless to be loved, and yet in the home he built for her, it was all the contrary that had happened.

And it was after a bit of her lips that Psyche continued. "You may not believe me, but it was love at first touch." She giggled out at the irony, hands covering her cheeks, before bursting out of tears again. "I would have remained in that chamber all my life if I didn't miss my family that much."

A sudden coldness shot through Persephone upon hearing Psyche's story. The similarities between the young mortal woman's destiny and her own were far too great to be ignored.

In this moment, Persephone turned stone, seated in her high golden chair. Stiff, stern, motionless with no shadow of mercy in her eyes, impartial in her position as their new dreadful queen, in the likeness of Hades—her marble king. He was back in his dark armour, his face hidden behind his helm, with only his blue eyes glowing.

The only living bond in the entire throne chamber was their holding hands between their thrones—the proof that love could shine through darkness.

And Persephone held on to him tighter, as if she believed in Psyche. It was with a small gap in her mouth that she then gave out a curt nod, allowing the latter to carry on.

For every sunrise, Psyche would wake up from her nuptial bed surrounded by gardens of flowers with courtship birds praising her beauty in song at her window, and from time to time she would even find sumptuous dresses left for her attention.

Anything she desired was gifted to her in bright daylight.

Anything except the face of her husband.

When Psyche asked her faceless lover to allow her one visit to her family, her unknown, doting husband granted her wish. Once back home, no warm welcome was awaiting Psyche; her sisters only greeted her with a sullen look.

Psyche's new luxurious life was no secret to them. They knew everything about the river of diamonds flowing through her abode at the peak of the rocky crag where she was taken. They were also aware of how the sun always shone wherever she was in her splendid garden and how never a single day had passed without Psyche needing food, worried, or sad.

The prediction their father received in his dream was perhaps an ordeal of bravery from the gods, but if the situation was the one Psyche expected, maybe her sisters wouldn't be so envious.

Envy was one of the worst evils released from Pandora's jar. It caused torment and dragged happiness into misery, and the saddest part of it all was that it forced one to wish misfortune on others.

Cruel words were the ones her sisters tossed at Psyche.

Where is your monster of a husband, my dear Psyche?
What kind of gentleman could hide from his wife?
Maybe he is with us, but we just can't see him.

Psyche knew love was blind, but they had poured doubt into her heart.

On her return to her husband, Psyche couldn't help but wonder why the man kissing her didn't want to show his face. He was perhaps ashamed of himself or, worse, of her. Many excuses ran through her mind, while the answer was just lying asleep next to her.

That night, Psyche mustered her courage and went out of her house to take a small candle in. It was one that had burned since her wedding day, making her a religious offering to the gods in a ceremony, and when its flame brightened into the darkness, Psyche drew closer to examine the face forbidden to her.