Persephone

Chapter 1: Out of Hell

Ben Lacy

Copyright © 2009 Ben Lacy

All rights reserved

Proserpine, depicted with her pomegranate, by Dante Gabriel Rossetti, 1874) (Tate Gallery, London)
 By order of the Gods, by vows of marriage, and for love of my child, I live in Hell six
months of every year. But time passes differently in the realms of the Gods and a space of
months seems an eternity.

At least here, in the Elysium Fields, I can still make things grow. As my young son runs
by, I wave my hand and violets spring to life around him. He gasps in delight and begins to pull
off the buds. Collecting them into a bouquet, he hands them to me and then dashes off to chase
the shades that stroll along the river bank nearby. He amuses himself running through there
insubstantial forms. Caught in their own afterlife experiences, they pay him no mind, if they can
even see him.

I can solidify them and talk to them if I wish, but at the moment, I’m not in the mood and
even the Queen of the Dead can grow tired of speaking with the dead. Instead I watch my son.
I’ve never felt like I truly belonged here, but my feelings were never part of the equation. Now,
though, I can’t help but wonder if even the nicest place in the underworld is the place for a living
child.

I’ve toyed with the idea of sending him to my mother when I’m here, but being here
without him would be even worse then being here before he was born. Plus, my husband would
never allow it. I’m certain there will be a fight when it is time for me to return to the land of the
living and I try to take the boy with me.

Hades is not an evil God, but he is one of the old Gods. A harsh God for a harsh job.
The standards of morality, the rules of paterfamilias, the codes of conduct, all come from a
different view that no mortal can relate to. I can tolerate it because I understand that world but I
am young as Gods go and cannot enjoy my life here.

My son continues to run through the fields, the spirits continue to wander, the light shines
exactly as it always has casting neither warmth nor shadow, nothing has changed – but I know it
will soon be time to return to the palace. One more day will have passed – or will it be a year.
Regardless, I rise and begin to walk toward the boy.

Then he disappears. A huge foot rises up from where he stood and a deafening sound
follows in a place where a whisper can seem as loud as thunder. There are more crashes and the
sky is filled with massive bodies landing all around. I scream and charge the foot that’s crushed
my son, “Zagreus! Get off my son you monster.”

As I approach, the foot rises and the body it’s attached to steps away. The footprint is
deeper then the length of my arm. I stumble into it struggling to keep my feet. Dust is
everywhere and the unnatural light that keeps the Elysium fields in perpetual early morning is
dimming. “Zagreus, where are you?”

“Mommy,” I hear a faint voice cry. That I can make him out in the incredible din can
only be attributed to my enhanced senses. I leap to the other side of the foot print. There I see
him laying a good 10 feet from the pit. He must have been brushed aside just before the giant
landed.

I grab him up and pull him in tight to my chest. He’s crying and clinging to me. I just
want to keep holding him but then I realize we’re not out of danger. I look around. The Elysium
fields have been invaded by a horde of monstrosities. Giants roam the fields, stamping the forest
into the ground and throwing bouldesr into the river Styx causing it to back up into the upper
fields. Soon the water will spill over to where we stand.

I take a closer look at the giants, at first I had thought the Titans had escaped. The Titans
though were beautiful beyond measure. These are coarse, gnarled things, wearing heavy coats
and lumbering gracelessly through the woods laying waste to everything around them.

While I’m gawking, I realize that other, smaller figures are heading directly for us. I
don’t know what’s going on here. I need to find Hades. Holding my boy tightly, I run toward
the forest, at the first tree, I turn directly into it and in a manner I cannot describe in words, I
reappear in a long stone corridor. This is the lower level of my personal quarters in the Palace of
Dis, the heart of the Underworld.

I run down the tapestry lined corridor. The pictures of the gods and titans look down on
me, their eyes following me as I run deeper into the palace. I would have fled to Olympus, but
unfortunately, the magic that binds me to this place is still in effect. At the end of the corridor, I
turn to head for the throne room and run right into a band of goblins. Squat but powerfully built,
I recognize their race but not their tribe. These creatures are dressed in heavy furs, topped with
large hoods. Each holds a bronze ax or hammer in his gnarled hands. Their dress is familiar
though and I suddenly have a terrifying insight into what might be happening.

Turning, I quickly try to dash back but I hesitate a moment too long. The leader cuts me
off. I back up against a wall, the others form a semi-circle around me. I set Zagreus down
behind me and face my would be captors.

The troll leader speaks. His language is foreign to me, but I of course have the gift of
tongues, “Well, well, look what we have here. You look good enough to eat.” His cronies leer
at me.

At first, for a moment, I’m scared. I’m immortal, Zagreus is immortal. They can’t kill
us, but there weapons could injure us. If injured badly enough, even we’d take a long time to
heal. I can’t tolerate the thought of these things harming Zagreus. I smile and pull on the front
of my light, summer dress, exposing my cleavage. “If you will but spare my child, you’ll find
that there are better things to do than eat me,” I purr.

The troll leader snickers, but lowers his hammer. “Sure, we’ll spare your kid. Right,
boys.” Snickers of agreement come from his fellows, but they also lower their weapons.

I should note here that I lack my sister Athena’s martial skills, and for an Olympian, I am
not particularly strong, but I’m still vastly stronger and faster then any mere mortal. I step
forward and with both hands shove their leader with all my might. He goes flying into his
comrades, knocking two down with him.

I pick up his hammer and quickly toss it into another one. It smashes through his shield
and lands with a hard thud against his chest. I can hear ribs crack as he too falls. The others take
a step back and carefully raise their weapons to defend themselves.

They needn’t have bothered, their moment’s hesitation allows me to swoop up my son
and run down the corridor. They recover and I hear their footsteps, but it doesn’t matter, I have
the moments lead I need. Space doesn’t work quite the same here and since the castle’s clearly
breached, I step into a wall and emerge out onto the plains of Tartarus to search for my husband
on what is now a battlefield.
 Across the plain, giants, trolls, and dwarves battle the Armies of Hades – Furies, Harpies,
and Legions of Greek and Roman soldiers. Tartarus is always packed with the damned, but now
the damned are themselves being crushed and scattered between the two armies. The invaders
are getting the better of it. Each swing of one of the giants’ massive weapons smashes away a
dozen of my husband’s soldiers. The harpies, powerful, clawed, winged women, flying above
are faring little better. Dragons are swooping between them snapping them up in their powerful
jaws as if they were hawks amongst a flock of sparrows. I crouch behind the giant boulder
Sisyphus’ is made to push up hill. He’s nowhere in sight, finally getting a rest after five
thousand years.

Tartarus is like a bowl with a large dome covering it. The dome has a network of tunnels
and caves. If I climb Sisyphus’ hill and can reach the right one, it’ll lead me to the mortal
realms. Unfortunately, I’m surrounded and there’s no more cover. Suddenly, one of the giants
stomps over, leans down, and neatly plucks up the boulder which he casually tosses aside.

He leans in close to me and sneers. My son screams in terror. The giant opens his mouth
to swallow us. In spite of my terror, I note with some irony that my husband survived such a fate
at the hands of his father (my grandfather). We’re immortal; I wonder if we’ll survive. Oddly,
I’ve never asked my husband what life was like trapped for years in the belly of a Titan.

I hug my boy close, “Hold mommy tight. It’ll be over quick, I promise.”

There’s a sudden flash and a painful burst of heat. I look up and the giant is aflame. In
moments he’s reduced to char. Nearby, I see my husband, Hades, holding a glowing staff in his
hand.

When normally I see my husband, it’s with some ambivalence, mixed with fear,
trepidation, and vast respect. This may be the first time I’m unambiguously happy to see him. I
run to him. “Husband, what is happening, who are these monsters?” I scream, struggling to
make myself heard over the raging battle.

He grabs me and our son to him. “Minions of Hel, that Goddess of Death the Northern
heathen worship. They’ve come in force to add our realm to hers.” He looks up and I follow
his eyes as the circle of hulking fur clad beasts surrounding us moves closer. He raises his staff
and a wall of fire encircles us. “I think they’ll succeed,” he adds grimly. “You must flee.”

“How? My bond won’t let me return to Olympus.”

He pushes me up the hill. The wall of fire moves with us. It keeps the hordes back, but
they’re already testing it. A large blue dragon passes overhead and emits a blizzard of snow
from its mouth. The fire expands to quench it but the strain on my husband’s face is visible. At
the top of the hill, he pushes me into one of the fissures. “Climb this one, stay to the right. It
will lead you out into the mortal world near Olympus.”

“What of the Covenant? It’s supposed to keep us from returning to the mortal world. ”

“There are breaches from the Underworld. You can follow the trail of Orpheus to the
surface. I will seal the path behind. You must get to Olympus. They are trying to shatter the
Covenant. If they succeed, our entire universe will fa….”

Hades screams in pain as a black spear bursts through his chest. As the wall of fire falls,
I can see behind him a woman of pure midnight. She reaches for the end of the spear and lifts
my husband, still attached, high in the air. Sneering at me she says, “Hello Poppet. It’s been so
long. I never really saw you as Queen of Hell. I think the crown will sit much easier upon my
brow.”

Tears fall from my eyes. Fire red orchids bloom at my feet where they strike the ground.
I bury Zagreus’ face in the folds of my dress. No child should have to see this happen to their
father.

Screaming in agony, Hades reaches behind and lifts himself off the spear. Falling to the
ground, he turns to attack Hela though mortally wounded. As he does, he screams, “Run! I love
you. Please tell our son of me and try to forgive me.”

I do as he says. He was a harsh man and not always a good husband, but he was a good
father and a good god. He deserved more than this. As I drag my son into the fissure, I vow that
soon I shall mourn him, and one day, I shall avenge him.