The Fall of Persephone

fifteen

Eros ascended the steep path to Mount Olympus, each step heavier than the last. The weight of his actions in the Underworld bore down on him, tainting the air of his homecoming with an unease that no words could assuage. The gates to the divine realm parted before him, and he was met with a sudden rush of warmth, a stark contrast to the oppressive chill of Hades' kingdom.

Aphrodite, radiant and divine, awaited him with open arms, her eyes alight with the joy of his return. "Eros!" she cried, rushing to embrace him. Her voice, usually soothing and filled with love, wavered as she beheld him. The god of love was not as she remembered—his usual vibrancy had dimmed, his wings hung low, and the light that once danced in his eyes had dulled.

She pulled back, her hands resting on his shoulders as she searched his face for answers. "What has happened to you, my child?" she whispered, her voice laced with concern. A glance at the god could disclose part of the story he was not willing to share - for his divine being was bruised and scratched and his wings bent in an unnatural way.

Eros averted his gaze, unable to meet her eyes. The memory of the pomegranate, the binding enchantment, and Persephone's unwitting consumption of the fruit weighed on his conscience. He could still feel the cold grip of Hades' warning around his heart, forbidding him from uttering a word about what had transpired.

Aphrodite, sensing the turmoil within him, gently caressed his cheek. "Speak to me, Eros. Tell me what has burdened you so."

But no matter how he tried, the words would not come. The shame, the fear—it choked him. His silence spoke volumes, and Aphrodite's joy at his return quickly turned into dread.

Before she could probe further, Demeter's presence stormed into the room. Her eyes, wild with desperation, fixed on Eros with a ferocity that made him flinch. "Where is my daughter?" she demanded, her voice trembling with a mixture of rage and despair. "Did you see her? What has become of my Persephone?"

Eros looked down, his wings drooping further. The guilt gnawed at him, a silent torment that he could not voice. He could feel Demeter's pain, feel the emptiness within her, but the fear of Hades' retribution held his tongue. Aphrodite, noticing the strain in Eros, placed a protective hand on his arm, but even she could not shield him from the crushing weight of the truth he withheld.

"Answer me!" Demeter's voice cracked, echoing through the hall like a mournful wail.

But Eros remained silent, his guilt a barrier he could not cross. He had fulfilled his duty to Hades, but at what cost? He could not speak of the betrayal, of the pomegranate that now bound Persephone to the Underworld. All he could do was lower his head in shame, his silence a confession of the darkness he had been a part of.

***

In the depths of the Underworld, Persephone wandered the shadowed corridors of Hades' palace, her thoughts muddled and her heart heavy. The memory of the pomegranate still lingered on her lips, a sweet, deceptive taste that she could not shake. She had eaten it without thinking, a moment of innocent hunger, but now... now something was changing.

A strange sensation coursed through her veins. It started as a low hum which had quickly turned into a coldness that spread from her core and outward, as though the very essence of the Underworld was seeping into her soul. She clutched her chest, her breath quickening as an unfamiliar power stirred within her, dark and ancient. It was as if the shadows themselves were reaching out, intertwining with her spirit, binding her more deeply to this forsaken realm.

Persephone doubled over and stumbled forward, her steps unsteady as the transformation took hold. Her once radiant glow began to dim, her skin taking on the pallor of the dead, her eyes reflecting the haunting beauty of the night. She could feel the power of the Underworld settling into her bones, reshaping her, molding her into something new—something formidable.

Whispered started to flood her mind. They seemed to manifest within her, not coming from an external party. They started low and incoherent, nothing but low murmurs and whistles.

"Stop!" she gasped, the coldness almost becoming unbearable. Her hands flew over her ears, trying desperately to block out the the sounds of the whispers started to grow louder. They grew louder and louder. "Stop!" She stumbled and leaned into the cool obsidian wall that lined the corridor, trying to support her weight. Tears started to stream down her ever-puffy cheeks, as since her arrival to the Underworld, not a day had not gone by where she did not weep herself to sleep, mourning what she missed.

Queen. Finally, a voice became coherent. She sobbed, her heart shattering further. "No. No, no, no-no-no-no-no-" Our Queen. The whispers finally became words, and she fell to her knees, her forehead pressed to the cool ground and her hands remained over her ears in a futile attempt to make the noise go away. All hail, the Queen. The voices spoke over each other, as if the souls of the dammed had made residence in her mind.

She was becoming the Queen of the Underworld.

Far above, in the dying world of mortals, Demeter felt a shiver run through her, an echo of the change overtaking her daughter. She gasped, clutching her heart as the bond between them weakened, frayed by the distance and the power that now enveloped Persephone. It was as if a part of her was being severed, stolen by the very realm she had feared.

Back in the Underworld, Persephone's transformation continued, her fear giving way to a cold resolve. The warmth of the world above, the light of the sun—it all seemed so far away now, almost like a distant memory. And yet, a flicker of something deeper stirred within her—a sense of betrayal, of being manipulated into this fate.

"Hades..." she whispered, her voice trembling as she tried to understand what was happening to her. She had not chosen this—this crown, this kingdom of the dead. The weight of it bore down on her, and yet... it fit, like a destiny she could not escape.

Queen- Our Queen- Your Highness-

She lifted her head and looked around desperately, as if her resolve may be within arms reach, but she was alone.