The incident occurred on the first morning of the Abundance Festival. Witnesses claimed a black carriage returned, painting the ground with blood, and thus it was called the Incident of the Black Carriage’s Return.
Though the capriciousness and duality of the gods were well known, it was a truly strange phenomenon for Gaia, the Earth Goddess, to bestow her blessing in the season of Water rather than the season of Earth.
The sages said that Gaia so despised the cold that when the north wind blew, she would gather every leaf in the world to make a quilt and hide beneath the ground.
Some said that curious Gaia changed her form after the harvest and descended because she wondered how the people above fared, and thus those who sorely missed her absence began to call this time the season of Earth, the season of the Great Land.
When the cold and barren season of Earth passed, the season of Water arrived, and all things stretched themselves awake. It was the time when supernatural vitality bubbled up like a spring. How, then, could he commit such ruthless acts in so sacred a time?
They said such insolence was because he dwelled in an underground palace where the gods’ eyes could not reach. Or because not even Uranus’s spear could pierce Thanatos’s army with wings of death unfurled. Or perhaps because he did not fear Gaia, the guardian of Demeter.
Was that why he dared command Persephone to be offered? Did he believe that if he held Gaia’s child, even the Mother Goddess could do nothing?
Truly impious. Rumor had it the King of Hades possessed Kwiene, a helm that could conceal his form, but it was almost laughable. No one could avoid the gaze of the gods. To live in the underground palace beneath the earth was no different from living inside the Mother Goddess’s belly.
Nyx, who guarded the night, gathered her hem, and Hemera, who illuminated the day, raised high her torch. Uranus, god of the firmament, rode the gale from early morning, and Pontus, god of the sea, rode white steeds like waves and stirred the tides.
When sailors rolled up their sleeves and flexed their brawny forearms, the women sitting by the springs smiled softly.
Ha-ha-ha.
To match the gods’ hearty laughter, the farmers in the fields began to sing a spirited work song.
O ridge of Gaia, prostrate upon the broad breast
The Heavenly God could not contain his lust, embracing the generous earth
Gaia, who moaned “Ahre,” gave birth to long, long mountains
As the men’s chorus rang out, feet moving along the ridges between paddies bounced in time, shoulders dancing.
In the pleasure and pain of union, the Mother Goddess poured forth her fluids
That place forming the seas and rivers is called Oceanus
The farmers, their faces reddened by the blazing sun, grinned broadly, baring their yellowed teeth, seemingly looking forward to the Abundance Festival that would soon begin.
It was the day the year’s harvest would be decided. How could they not be joyful? They would offer the finest sacrifice to the gods and receive a blessing bright as glory.
Among the neighboring nations, the kingdom of Demeter boasted the most fertile territory, and it worshipped Gaia as its supreme deity.
Gaia was the Mother of the Earth, the protector of fertility and childbirth, and the goddess of healing and recovery. She was known to possess the warmest and most merciful disposition among the gods, and in Demeter alone, the temples and sanctuaries dedicated to her numbered fifty-five.
In the morning sunlight, streams sparkled like salt as they flowed between the valleys, ringing clear. The marble temple built atop a gorge of tuff glowed white, reflecting the hot sun while holding the dew that had formed overnight.
Atop the straight, upright marble columns, reliefs of abundant, ripe fruit were carved where the columns met the roof. It was a style blending supple feminine curves with bold artistry.
Avoiding the sunlight illuminating the temple columns, a lizard flicked its slender tongue and scurried busily about.
—Lil….
The warm breath of the west wind seeped into the white stone wall and called her name. As if in answer, the temple door made of ash wood creaked open.
She had been descending the smooth stone steps barefoot, but she paused and stopped. The hem of her silk garment, creased with fine wrinkles, brushed her white insteps.
The red marble quarried from the rugged gorge was one of the most expensive, highest-grade stones even in foreign lands. The Mother Goddess’s temple was built of this stone, called rose marble.
From the temple entrance, a narrow, lengthy plain stretched out. It was the highest place in Cocytus and also where Gaia tilted her head to look up at the firmament.
The scent of earth carried on the wind was the Mother Goddess’s breath; the river that watered the fertile land was the Mother Goddess’s milk.
Standing below the stone steps and gazing to the end of the plain, Asteril’s eyes swept along the hook-shaped ridge.
A single figure climbing the mountain along the slope came into view. It was an old man leaning on a crooked cane, slowly ascending the hill, a basket woven haphazardly from reed leaves hanging from his arm.
This was the Temple of Abundance, which served Gaia as its supreme deity. The River Senure, the nourishing breast that traversed the kingdom, flooded greatly once each year, bestowing fertility upon the land. The gentle sunshine in all four seasons and the appropriate rainfall contributed to wheat fields stretching beyond the horizon, befitting the name the Golden Earth.
It was truly a blessing. For the past hundred years, save for times of war, Demeter had never once suffered famine or poor harvest.
The Grand Temple of Cocytus, located at the western edge of Demeter’s land, was the most sacred among Demeter’s countless temples.
From dawn to dusk, a procession of devotees seeking the Mother Goddess’s blessing ceaselessly crowded this place like swarms of ants. Especially during the Abundance Festival, it was famous for being packed shoulder-to-shoulder with pilgrims from every city.
Priests wearing olive-leaf crowns took their positions at each of the four corners of the temple. As if heralding the ritual about to begin, they blew their horns high.
Bwooo.
As the horn’s sound echoed and resounded, a butcher waiting inside the temple raised his blade high. With a crack!, the sound of the blade striking the neck bone rang out, and a young goat bleated in agony.
The goat’s owner, who had willingly offered the sacrifice to be presented to the Mother Goddess today, would in return receive a bottle of wine fermented by the priests for five years.
“O Mother Goddess of Abundance, please bestow your blessing upon this humble one.”
The steep ridge leading to the temple was a slope that would make even a young man bend at the waist and gasp for breath. Yet the hunched old man showed not a trace of fatigue, raising both hands high and bowing his white-haired head to the priest.
Asteril, waiting at the temple entrance, stood barefoot upon the earth and welcomed him with a smile.
“Have you come to hear the voice of the earth?”
On the morning of the first day of every month, the high priestess of each temple performed a divination free of charge for one among the visitors. By coincidence, this year that first day fell on the very day of the Abundance Festival ritual.
The method of choosing who received the divination was a lottery. At the entrance to the mountain path leading to the temple, a boy acolyte of the high priestess would appear carrying a red urn shaped like a water jar. Inside the urn were various wildflowers; whoever drew the narcissus would have the chance to receive a divination.
The old man’s clothes, patched together from tough goat hide, were shabby and threadbare. Just as all devotees did, the old man set down his cane and removed his worn sandals. He dipped his mud-caked feet into the basin placed at the temple entrance to wash them, then knelt and bowed his head. The statue of Gaia erected between the rose-marble columns looked down upon him.
“Today, the whispers of the wind are clear. Then let me perform a wind divination for you.”
The old man raised his eyebrows. Generally, priests practiced entrail divination using the innards of animals, or augury by observing the movements of birds flying in the sky. Occasionally, if one read the stars at night, one might perform a moon divination, but….
“I’ve never heard of wind divination.”
“The west wind blowing from the gorge where the setting sun sinks always tells me many stories. He is my one and only companion, and he knows so very much. A tremendous chatterbox, you see.”
Her footsteps, slipping into the sunlit temple as if gliding, were light and soft. As if treading on the wind, or as if the wind carried her.
Now that she mentioned it, he had heard rumors. The high priestess of Cocytus could supposedly converse with the supernatural—a preposterous tale.
“West Wind, where are you?”
She called to her companion in a tender voice, but the hollow temple remained silent. Asteril looked out the square window between the stone walls. Aside from the blinding light of the sun rising in the east, there was not a single breeze to caress her squinting eyes.
This was a problem. In truth, the divination she was most confident in was wind divination. She disliked looking at animal blood, so she had never practiced entrail divination, and augury or moon divination were not her specialties. Though she was famous for wind divination, the blind spot was that it was, in fact, the only one she knew how to perform.
“It seems…the wind spirits have all been called away by Pontus today.”
The old man’s eyebrows rose again. His expression asked what preposterous nonsense that was.
Asteril, showing her embarrassment, quickly glanced around with a sidelong look. Today, for some reason, all the priests had been absent from their posts since dawn.
“Rea, go find the west wind.”
At her whisper, a black panther that had been sleeping sprawled beneath a pillar stretched all four limbs and rose. The old man flinched and stepped back, but Asteril smiled over her shoulder as if to reassure him.
“Ah, Rea is the guardian beast who protects our temple.”
The sleek beast purred as it approached and rubbed its cheek against her white calf. Then it stared fixedly at the unfamiliar devotee. The old man’s wrinkled eyes met its gaze with effort.
The creature circled round and round, sizing up the old man, then yawned and turned away. A faint smile spread across the old man’s lips.
“This way, please.”
Asteril, who had been searching for a sign of the west wind, eventually gave up with a sigh. He must be sleeping draped over some branch again, as usual.
The old man, who had been following her, suddenly gazed out the window. Behind the temple, located at the crest of the hill, a small ridge jutted up like a mushroom cap. At the end of a pine-needle path on that ridge, an old temple could be seen.
“What is that place…?”
“It is the sanctuary of Cronus. An ancient shrine that stood here before this Grand Temple was built.”
“Do you oversee that place as well, Priestess?”
“I do. However, it is not open to ordinary devotees.”
In the distant past, it had been a shrine worshipping one of the first gods revered by the ancients. The ruined shrine had been gradually restored over several years and only recently regained its original form.
Unlike the recent temples built with rectangular marble columns, that ancient sanctuary was shaped like a circle with an open roof, a form of altar made only of steps, like a pyramid.
“Cronus must be very pleased.”
A pleased smile hung on the old man’s lips. For the high priestess to look after a forgotten shrine as well, busy as she must be with temple affairs, was a commendable thing.
“This way.”
Asteril led the old man toward the temple’s inner courtyard. She smiled as she ran her hand over a row of red-glazed jars set at the garden entrance. The attendant women following behind nodded.
The old man waited quietly with his hands behind his back. There were many jars inside the temple. Gaia was also the goddess who had taught humanity the art of pottery.
Returning before the altar, she placed the first of the three jars brought by her attendants upon the altar.
“What are you doing?”
“It is an earth divination. A form of fortune-telling passed down only to the high priest of Demeter, who serves Gaia.”
“Divination by earth… I have never heard of such a thing in my life.”
She smiled with her eyes, as if telling him to trust her just this once. Feeling a sense of reliability from her capable eyes, the old man nodded.
“What is it you wish to ask the goddess?”
“I wish to know the fate of my children.”
The old man’s voice echoed deeply, as if speaking from within a cave.
Asteril stood before the altar and plunged her hand deep into the first jar. She grasped a handful of red soil and scattered it beneath the altar with a rustle. Gazing at the earth spread out like a river, she spoke softly.
“You have many children.”
“A great many, more than can be counted on fingers.”
“Each of them seems extraordinary and exceptional.”
“Each is a being close to perfection.”
It was a voice brimming with pride. She smiled quietly. This time, she put her hand into the second jar. Fine, white sand flowed between her fingers like salt.
A ladybug crawled out slowly from the small pile of heaped sand. Asteril’s eyes flickered with an inscrutable light.
“It seems you are curious about the fate of one particular child among them.”
The old man made no answer. His firmly shut lips and trembling pupils affirmed it in his stead.
Lastly, she put her hand into the third jar. It was a jar mixed with soil and gravel. She called it the Jar of Fate.
The hand that emerged from the jar scattered dark, blackish soil. In the midst of that, something viscous and slimy stuck sticky to her palm and then dropped to the floor with a plop. The white sand began to soak with a blackish red. The ladybug buried in the soil was nowhere to be seen.
Asteril rubbed her fingers together and shook off the dirt. The old man looked quietly down at the soil and sand scattered every which way upon the floor and asked.
“What does this mean?”
“This is….”
At times, she faced a conflict. Should she tell the truth of the divination she had seen, or should she speak falsehood?
Divinations were not always accurate. The voices of the gods were harder to hear than a lizard’s cry, and changed shape like fickle clouds moment by moment, so their meaning could vary drastically depending on the interpretation.
Death.
The Jar of Fate had whispered thus. With a constricted voice, Asteril barely managed to speak.
“The God of Eternal Dark and Deep Slumber seeks to kiss him.”
“My child… you mean my child will die?”
The statue of the goddess erected inside the temple was so enormous and majestic that its head touched the ceiling.
The sages claimed Gaia and Ananke, the goddess of fate, were sisters. Or perhaps mother and daughter. Regardless, they were two intimately close goddesses.
Perhaps that was why? The divinations of priests who served Gaia were said to be quite accurate. Ananke often whispered the flow of fate into Gaia’s ear.
“Is there no way to save him?”
She could not answer that far. The divination ended here. When Asteril shook her head, the old man’s wrinkled expression darkened. Her heart grew heavy and conflicted.
The old man turned away, his shoulders slumped. Asteril stepped down from the altar and looked at her right palm, which had cast the divination. She sniffed her sticky palm, rubbing it under her nose. It smelled sour and sweet.
Fruit juice?
Her eyes, clouded with suspicion, fixed upon the jar.
She put her hand back into the jar and stirred the soil this way and that. Between the clumped sand and gravel, she felt something soft. Opening her fist after pulling out her hand, she revealed plump, ripe pomegranate seeds.
They were pomegranate seeds.
Occasionally, fallen fruit would get mixed in with the soil and sand inside the jars. Insects were the same. They often played very important roles in divinations.
Then something moving beside her right foot caught her eye. Following the sunlight slanting in through the temple window, a ladybug was diligently crawling outside. It was the one that had been buried in the sand pile moments ago. Watching the ladybug earnestly crawling out between the stones paving the floor, Asteril suddenly lifted her head.
She dashed out of the temple, looking around, and checked the basin placed beside the entrance. The cane the old man had left propped up was nowhere to be seen.
She ran down the stone steps and along the path leading down the mountainside without a thought.
“Devotee! Devotee!”
The white puff of her breath grazed her flushed cheeks and clouded her vision hazily. Mist had suddenly and thickly settled around her as if blocking her path. Asteril gasped for breath, hands on her knees.
She had come out right after him, yet….
The mysterious old man had already vanished without a trace.
When she returned to the temple and asked the other priests, they all answered with bewildered faces that they had never seen such an old man. The same was true for those who had come up from below the hill.
Honestly, this headstrong temper of hers—she should have interpreted the divination more carefully. It was a tendency she had often been scolded for by the King since childhood, yet it never easily corrected itself.
Bwooo.
The priests were blowing the second horn. Asteril turned back, her brow furrowing. She could see a cloud of dust rising from the city entrance visible below the ridge. It was the King’s procession galloping in from Side for the Abundance Festival.
Asteril wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand and straightened her waist. There was nothing to be done. Now was the time to prepare and move to the ceremonial temple.
The Abundance Festival would soon begin.
Ψ
On the day the season of Water began each year, Demeter held its greatest religious event, the Abundance Festival.
Demeter, which worshipped Gaia, the goddess of earth and fertility, had long regarded land and soil as sacred. One custom handed down in every household was to place a jar of sacred earth by the front door. Every time farmers went out to till their fields, they would reverently kiss the mouth of the jar.
The Abundance Festival was held over ten days in five religious cities. The King toured the five cities in order, and the first city was Coquitus, located at the western edge of Demeter.
The current King, Ampita, was born the eldest daughter of the previous king. At five years of age, she was granted the position of next Anasa, and at twelve, she ascended the throne. She was currently fifty-two years old and had led the kingdom’s affairs for roughly forty years. Ampita had only daughters, three of them, and Asteril was the youngest, the third princess.
Asteril’s duties at the Abundance Festival were truly important.
First, the high priests came forward before the altar and poured milk, honey, and wine into an earthenware vessel shaped from clay, then sprinkled white barley flour upon it. It was the sacrificial drink to be offered to the goddess. When myrrh was burned at both ends of the altar, a solemn atmosphere was created.
It was the time to preside over the spring festival of Hebe and to demonstrate the Mother Goddess’s authority by reciting legends of Gaia.
As Asteril appeared before the altar atop the stairs, the citizens cheered, scattering flowers picked from Nephis Hill.
“Lady Asteril!”
“Please bless Coquitus….”
The high officials smiled at her undiminished popularity. Only a few years ago, Coquitus had been a neglected frontier city. However, since Asteril’s arrival, citizens had begun calling it the City of Healing and migrated here. It was from then on that she came to be called the living incarnation of Gaia.
“Gaia molded a figure from clay and created the first human, and her name was Pandora. The Mother Goddess kissed Pandora’s forehead in blessing and commanded, Obey my will, Gaia’s will….”
All held their breath at the sound of her voice reciting the legend. How could such a clear and powerful voice emerge from such a fragile body? The eyes of the citizens listening with hands clasped were filled with awe.
“Kyaaa!”
Then a sharp scream rang out from somewhere. The flames of the altar flickered ominously. Something was charging toward the front of the temple, kicking up dust in the distance. Soldiers hurriedly ran out with spears raised.
“Hiiiiinh!”
The horse reared and screamed, trampling roughly while hitched to the carriage. Startled citizens scrambled to dodge every which way. As the excited horse bucked wildly, the carriage connected by reins crashed into the altar’s pillars and underside, breaking away with a thunderous crack.
The earth, covered in flower petals, began to stain black-red. Asteril, watching the situation unfold, slowly descended the stairs. Gazing intently at the long track left by the carriage wheels, she narrowed her brow.
Bloodstains?
The carriage wheel, made of sturdy cedar, finally broke and collapsed. In the center of the tilted carriage, a sharply pointed pike-like spear was stuck vertically.
At the tip of the spear, a woman hung limply, her wrists bound with coarse rope. Her head drooped heavily, and long brown hair fluttered over her shoulders.
Beneath her torn silk dress, barefoot legs jutted out, shoeless. Between the blackened toes, a maggot squirmed its way out. The mottled tops of her feet showed the phenomenon of livor mortis.
“It’s P-Persephone…! Persephone has been murdered!”
When a young man shouted, pointing his finger, someone sobbed and covered their mouth with a hand. A tumult of sound spread like waves.
King Ampita, sitting in the highest seat closest to the altar, raised her brows sharply. She leaned forward to examine the corpse, the royal circlet on her forehead trembling minutely like her furrowed brow.
The soldiers, having calmed the rampaging horse, dragged the body out and laid it on the ground. Attendant women brought cloths and tidied the face, which was a mess of dirt and hair. Ampita, who had descended from the altar, covered her nose with silk and examined the corpse’s face.
The features, already in decomposition, were ghastly. Maggots swarmed in and out of the nostrils and mouth, and flesh had fallen from the cheeks to expose white bone.
The terrified crowd began to murmur, falling into panic.
“Persephone?”
“Look at her sash! It’s engraved with a narcissus.”
“If it’s Persephone, she was only sent to Hades a few months ago….”
The deceased woman was the eighth Persephone, a maiden sent to Hades not a few months prior.
“According to the Treaty of Persephone, Demeter must offer a pure Demeterian virgin to Hades. However, as the eighth Persephone did not meet the conditions, she is hereby returned in violation thereof. Demeter shall offer a new maiden. Further, the maiden to be sent this time shall be a virgin of Demeter royal blood.”
The contents read by the scribe were inscribed upon a clay tablet found on the dead body. The tablet had been fired twice and sealed with a stamp. The stamp of serpent and raven—the symbol of Hades.
The faces of the high officials and priests seated in attendance at the ritual turned deathly pale. None was more shaken than King Ampita herself.
Coquitus was a small religious city. It was ritually very important, but it was not a strategic point of the kingdom. Thus it was a quiet, peaceful place. Like a forest spring where only small birds came and went, this place only grew boisterous four days a year—during the Abundance Festival.
The ritual was interrupted by the sudden arrival of the black carriage, and the incense burning at the altar stilled along with the uproar. The King and high officials hastily gathered in the temple’s inner courtyard.
Ampita removed the circlet from her forehead and sat in a chair placed before the fountain. Asteril stood beside the King as if guarding her, and the officials who followed gathered in a circle, sighing.
“Send a princess? Out of the question.”
“Indeed. Have we not already sent the eighth Persephone? To demand another maiden after a single month is nothing short of extortion.”
“But if we do not send one, there will be war.”
An old official with arms crossed scowled and raised his voice.
“Then let us have war! I would rather war than endure such humiliation.”
“Do you call that speaking? Have you already forgotten? Have you already forgotten what it was like forty years ago!”
“Then do you truly mean to offer a princess as tribute? That is impossible.”
“Everyone, silence!”
Ampita, who had been covering her face with both hands, sprang to her feet and shouted. Her light brown hair, pinned up with a jade hairpin, came loose and flew wildly.
“All of you, be silent.”
Clink. A blue-green sapphire fell from the golden circlet that had dropped to the floor and shattered. The sheen of the broken gem was the same color as her enraged eyes. Though it was the finest jewel, crafted over four seasons by a royal artisan, no one noticed. The blade was at their very throats. The corpse hung upon the carriage could have been any one of them.
“Persephone will be sent. Even if it be one of my three princesses.”
“That is absurd, Your Majesty. To send a princess!”
“Then do you mean to ignore the letter sent by the King of Hades? This time, it will not be merely a corpse that returns. Thanatos will come with it.”
“H-however….”
“This is of our own making. I do not know how that devilish man found out, but consider it fortunate he has shown us this much mercy.”
“What do you mean, that we brought this upon ourselves….”
“Did none of you see the body?”
“We did, but it was too decomposed to recognize….”
Ampita, her face twisted, furrowed her wrinkled forehead even more deeply. Her furious voice thundered over the officials’ heads.
---
“Are you all blind men with your eyes open? Everyone here must know that the daughter of the Head of the Senate, who was to go as Persephone, was the greatest beauty in the kingdom. They say she took after her father, with blonde hair and blue eyes, but what is the color of that corpse’s hair? Is that blonde in your eyes? Who in the world is that dead body! Who dared switch Persephone!”
Only then did shock spread across the high officials’ faces. Persephone had been switched!
“Send a letter to Princess Kiane in the royal palace at once.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Ampita sat back down in silence, her eyes lost in thought. A high official whose bulging belly was barely cinched by a golden cord asked with a worried expression.
“Your Majesty, which princess do you intend to send?”
“We must absolutely not send Princess Kiane, who is to ascend to the position of the next Anasa.”
“But is not Princess Penelope set to marry the prince of Poseidonia this year?”
The eyes of the officials engaged in discussion crossed for a moment. Asteril, who had been holding Ampita’s hand as though to comfort her, raised her head. They were all looking at her with heavy gazes. Even Ampita seemed to have reached a conclusion, gripping her youngest daughter’s hand tightly. Someone let out a heavy sigh and pressed their forehead as if in agony.
Asteril, studying their faces one by one, formed a serene smile.
“Then it is decided.”
She too was already past marriageable age. Every year suitors had lined up, but each time she had refused, saying she had already devoted everything to the gods.
The eldest, Princess Kiane, skillfully handled political matters against the sly elders of the senate, while the second daughter, Princess Penelope, reigned over the kingdom’s social circles, both within and without. Thus, Asteril had realized early on that her place was not at the Queen Mother’s side. Having entered the priesthood at the tender age of sixteen, she had since lived setting aside the status and privileges of a princess.
Perhaps this would be the first and last duty and obligation she would fulfill as a princess.
“I shall go and become Persephone.”
Ψ
The next morning, as dawn broke, the sound of horns blared. It was a proclamation. Soldiers from the capital went down to the village square and announced in booming voices.
“Her Highness Asteril, High Priestess of Cocytus and Third Princess, has volunteered to become Persephone and go to Hades. To celebrate this, His Majesty bestows barley and sweet wine upon the citizens of Cocytus!”
The citizens listened with blank expressions, then began to murmur, asking what in the world this meant.
“Her Highness is volunteering to go, so why are they giving us barley and sweet wine?”
“Well, because Her Highness is the High Priestess of this place, Cocytus….”
“Before that, she is his own daughter. Does the Anasa not care if his own daughter goes to Hades and dies? Aren’t there other princesses in the capital? Why Her Highness Asteril? Why our Her Highness Asteril!”
“Hush, watch your mouth! The soldiers are still watching….”
“We don’t need this barley! Who asked for wine and barley in exchange for Her Highness’s life? Beyond the Styx lies the land of death. Our poor princess, what are we to do….”
The citizens came out to the square and gazed up at the hill where the temple stood with downcast eyes. The hazy sky turned its back on the sunlight, looking down upon the quiet city.
“Lil.”
“Yes, Mother.”
Nestled snugly in Ampita’s embrace, Asteril quietly closed her eyes. Behind the long bench where the two sat, a fountain murmured. It felt as though a cold stream was flowing chillingly across her chest. Though she pretended to be composed, her clenched fist kept trembling like a baby bird.
“Are you afraid?”
“I have heard that the King of Hades is a man of utmost cruelty.”
“A cold-blooded one without blood or tears….”
“….”
“Though it may be hard to believe, your mother’s heart is torn apart more than anyone’s right now. If I could, I would go in your stead. How could your mother sleep peacefully every night after sending you away?”
Would you have said the same even if it were my sisters? Even if their minds and bodies had both been free, would Mother truly have weighed all three princesses equally? Was there really no way for me not to go?
Countless questions swirled on her lips, but she could voice not a single one. As always, she would lower her gaze and close her eyes, having set everything down once more. She must, for she had to be a good daughter.
“It’s alright, Mother.”
I am your daughter too, after all.
“He will not harm you. He is the king of a nation as well. He cannot easily harm a princess of another country. Yes, that is so.”
Of the Persephones sent thus far, half were commoners and half were nobles. Seven had vanished without a trace, and the last one had returned dead. Could fate truly differ simply because one was a princess?
“Take this.”
It was a thin golden bracelet set with a red gemstone.
“Always keep it on your person. Kore will protect you, do you understand?”
Asteril buried her head in Ampita’s embrace, closed her eyes, and nodded.
She had wanted her mother’s love more than Kore’s blessing. She had wished for her mother to cry out that her daughter absolutely could not go, that she could not send Asteril of all people. Even though she knew it was a futile wish.
“Yes, Mother.”
She lowered her damp eyelids and bit her lip tightly. The heat behind her eyes faded away dryly.
They said fate was a small boat with its sail unfurled upon a vast sea. Surrender your body to where the wind leads and the waves push, they said.
Where will my fate flow? I wish it would be as far from this land as possible. So that Mother might never hear word of my sorrow.
Ψ
A fortnight had passed.
Having received the message, Princesses Kiane and Penelope raced day and night, managing to arrive in Cocytus on the morning of the day Asteril was to depart.
Before the entrance to the Great Temple, a palanquin waited, adorned with lavish flowers and wine ornaments, to carry her down the mountain.
The three sisters exchanged lengthy farewells, unable to let go of each other’s hands. Penelope, her eyes red and swollen, clutched Asteril’s shoulder and insisted she could not send her off like this, bursting into tears again and again.
“How can I send you? How can I send you to that barren, fearsome place….”
“Do not cry, Sister.”
Her poor second sister. She well knew that this sister, who soon had to go to a distant foreign land to be wed, spent her nights awake in tears.
Penelope had already had a secret lover with whom she had been intimate for several years—a fact known only to Princess Kiane and herself. For informing the Queen Mother would only cause her worry.
Such was the fate of royalty. They could never escape the crushing weight of duty that pressed upon their hearts.
“Lil.”
The eldest, Kiane, resembled their mother Ampita the most. Not only her wavy brown hair and blue-green eyes, but also her cold judgment and rational nature.
She seemed lost in thought alone in a corner, then before anyone knew it, she approached with an expressionless face and looked down at her younger sister.
At Kiane’s solemn and fierce expression, Asteril unconsciously gripped the hem of her clothes.
“No matter what situation befalls you, you must never forget that you are a princess of Demeter.”
“….”
“Do not lose your dignity, and always remain proud. You are a child who has received the blessing and love of the Mother Goddess more than any of us.”
The edge of Kiane’s voice, which had been flowing calmly, trembled ever so slightly. Unable to continue, she turned her head briefly.
“Sister….”
Such a sight was the first from Kiane. She had been the perfect paragon, showing nothing but unwavering attitude and gaze befitting the next Anasa since birth.
She gripped Asteril’s shoulder tightly and bit her lip as if in pain.
“I will find a way to bring you back, without fail. So please endure with strength. Can you promise this sister?”
Emotions that had remained calm even when Penelope sobbed now surged up violently. Seeing Kiane’s eyes redden—whom she had thought would coldly send her off calling it merely a princess’s duty—made her chest feel as though it were being crushed.
Asteril wiped the corners of her eyes with the back of her hand and forced a smile.
“Do not worry, Sister. I will not come to harm.”
“What?”
“The Jar of Fate told me so. That the god who makes even the Moon Goddess close her eyes, and brings even the north wind to its knees, will protect me.”
“Asteril, I know your divine power is exceptional, but it is not good to blindly believe in divinations.”
“It is not blind faith.”
Asteril gently lowered the hand she had been holding. A ladybug was crawling slowly over the forked lines of her palm.
Kiane stared at Asteril with confused eyes, as if asking what in the world this meant.
“Divinations are wondrous. The moment you learn the interpretation of a divination, that person’s fate begins to change. Divination is like a wheel that turns according to the believer’s faith and will…. I have decided to believe in the trajectory of my fate. I feel that my coming to Cocytus as High Priestess years ago was, in the end, for this day. It seems the Mother Goddess has wanted to send me to Hades for a long time.”
“Lil….”
Seeing her younger sister rather offering comfort, Kiane could say nothing.
Yes, the Goddess will surely protect you. Because you are a special child.
The palanquin procession carrying Asteril away looked like a tragedy forcing a smile. It was the most magnificent funeral procession in the world.
White lilies and daffodils adorned the roof of the palanquin, and horses with chrysanthemums around their necks pulled carts laden with tribute gifts, their hooves clip-clopping. The priests riding atop wore ceremonial robes embroidered with golden beast motifs, and terrifying masks covered their faces.
Curled up inside the palanquin, Asteril stared blankly at her white sleeves. She hated white. She would have preferred black. All strong living things in the world were dark and deep. By contrast, white was the color of dying. Sick and afflicted creatures generally paled to whiteness, lost their color, and soon vanished. White was the color of returning to nothingness.
She was afraid.
But she knew that if she showed fear, her mother and sisters would be overwhelmed with guilt and sorrow. Those who remained had to continue living. Was it not better for them to find comfort believing the youngest would be safe?
“Your Highness.”
“Have we arrived?”
When the palanquin opened, damp humidity struck her cheeks. A fishy scent wafted on the air flowing between her parted lips. It was the smell of the water’s edge.
“This is the River Styx. From here, it is Hades’ territory, so this is as far as we can escort you.”
The fog drawn by darkness billowed out thickly. She could not tell if the white spreading breath was hers or the tail of the wind. Asteril, lost in a daze, had her gaze stolen by the surroundings.
Could this be what the infernal valley looked like, where the reaper guided the dead? A small ferryboat cut through water weeds and drifted leisurely between steep cliffs that seemed sliced by a giant’s scythe.
“From here, that boatman shall guide you.”
The boatman draped in a black cloak abruptly thrust a bony hand through his collar. A gravelly voice flowed from an aged throat.
“Come aboard, Princess.”
She saw flies buzzing above the cloth covering him down to his head.
“I-I’m fine. I can board alone.”
At her frightened voice, the boatman bared blackened, rotting teeth and chuckled. A foul stench spewed from his mouth. Or was it from the river? Asteril covered her nose with her hand. She gripped her dress and sat down, and the boat creaked as it began to cut through the current.
“Is this your first time on the Styx?”
“….”
“They say it is the boundary between life and death. Those who cross the Styx and return usually live a life transcending death, but that may be either a blessing or a curse.”
No matter how she looked at it, it was a curse. There was no way a god’s blessing could descend upon a place so saturated with ominous energy.
“Hades is such a place. Situated at the boundary between the world of humans and gods. If a human dares to set foot in the divine realm, they are dragged to Hades to be judged. Or it is also a place that tests those who seek to enter the divine realm….”
Asteril no longer gave any reply to the boatman’s words. She was tired. She could not care less about legends of Hades.
The fading afterimage of Cocytus moistened her eyes. She felt as though she would never be able to return. The musty stench from the boatman felt like her future unfolding ahead, and it terrified her.
Thorny vines thickly covered the river mouth. Their tangled forms in the fog were bizarre and horrifying.
There was a story that Erebus had spat out the thorns caught in his throat, but whatever the case, legends involving Hades were all about death and darkness.
“Do you live in Hades, boatman?”
“No, I merely drift upon my boat…. I have no home, no wife or children to be responsible for, so I am alone all my days.”
The boat moved along with the slowly flowing current. Unlike the dizzying water, the destination in the darkness was clear.
She embraced the anxiety in her clenched fist and raised her chin straight. Her unwavering eyes appeared to have composed her emotions.
She must not weaken already. She had to harden her heart so the hollow wind crossing the Styx could not steal her soul.
The boatman glanced sidelong at Asteril and smiled, creasing his cheeks as if impressed.
Beyond the valley, an open view began to appear at the bow. A desolate sight filled her black pupils. Upon the earth where withered leaves rolled between crumbling sands, not a single blade of grass grew. Dust and sand-laden winds mixed with fog darkened the view, but the silhouette rising like a mountain against the endless horizon was unmistakably clear.
That was Lethe.
The sacred land of death where the King of Hades resided. Had she finally arrived? Now that she faced it, formless fear slithered and coiled around her entire body.
A bleak, dry gust of wind brushed her chapped lips.
“West Wind, are you there?”
She whispered softly on the off chance, but there was no way her comrade far away would answer.
The knife-like wind was sharp enough to slice her shoulders. It was the breath of passion running madly in all directions without aim, like souls wailing in agony, clutching their heads.
Terror filled her every breath. With a pale face, Asteril disembarked, steadying the creaking bow with her hand. A black cave waited with its maw agape.
“Do I go alone?”
She asked over her shoulder, but only silence returned. The boatman was already rowing far away with his boat and lantern. Only the darkness flowing over calm ripples surged beyond the thick fog.
With frozen hands pressing against the stone wall, Asteril climbed the stone steps.
A long underground passage in the shape of an arch extended deep into the darkness. Every ten paces, a deep hollow was carved into the wall, within which a small torch hung.
It felt like walking into a snake’s gullet. A long, narrow, damp cave. Since ancient times, the snake was the symbol of death, coiling around the underworld god’s wrist.
The floor was damp with moisture. The splashing sound of puddles squelching with each step sent chills down her spine.
A wind carrying the smell of mold brushed past her cheeks. Listening carefully, she could hear the sound of trickling water from deeper inside the underground passage.
She lifted the hem of her dress over her feet with the hand that gripped her fear. Only the sound of wet sand crunching underfoot continued. Even the tiny insects held their breath, watching the stranger’s visit.
Those who hear the voices of the supernatural know. That even winds have their own distinct voices.
The wind of Lethe seeping through the cracks of the stone walls made a gravelly, metallic sound like the boatman’s voice from before.
Hssss.
A gust laden with damp moisture rested upon her brow bones and led the way ahead.
— Ah, Persephone….
A voice thin and mournful, like a song, drifted out.
— Another new maiden has come.
— Fear not, we are the reeds of Elysium….
Emerging from the cave, a field of golden reeds spread between black rocky mountains.
The reeds bowed their heads and bent their bodies to both sides as if clearing a path. A gust of wind swept over them as if brushing across. The bent reeds laughed like shy women.
She had heard stories that golden reeds grew in profusion at the entrance to the underworld.
This place lay further west than the western edge of the earth. Could the underground cave beyond the hill where twilight slept be the gate leading to the netherworld? It matched exactly descriptions of the entrance where underworld gods came and went.
— Why do you stop?
— Oh dear, your legs seem to hurt….
The curious reeds chattered incessantly, speaking to her.
“Is this Lethe, the capital of Hades?”
At Asteril’s question, the reeds hesitated and fell silent.
They straightened their bent waists and began whispering amongst themselves, showing signs of bewilderment.
— Damn, she can hear our voices….
— Shush, be quiet.
— How is she hearing us?
— Is she not human?
— No matter how I look, she’s human.
Asteril sighed and began walking again. Then they called out, telling her to stop for a moment.
— Child.
When she glanced back, they began whispering amongst themselves again.
— She really can hear us.
— Why confirm it again?
— I’m curious.
They were definitely not ordinary reeds. They must be nature spirits that had been guarding this place for at least several hundred years.
“Will you answer, or not?”
When she asked with annoyance, the reeds cleared their throats and changed their tone, speaking with affected elegance.
— Originally, Lethe is not a place with substance.
— Lethe means the Cup of Oblivion.
The Cup of Oblivion. Where had she heard that? In ancient records? Or in the songs of children playing near Nephis Hill?
— The sanctuary enshrining the Cup of Oblivion is around here.
— Hey, why are you telling her that?
— She won’t understand even if we tell her.
— That child can hear everything we whisper amongst ourselves.
— So what? It’s the first time we’ve met a human who can hear our voices. I think we can tell her specially.
Asteril stood with her arms crossed and stared intently at them bickering.
She recalled that the West Wind had once said reeds had the most complaints in the world, swaying this way and that without backbone according to the wind’s direction. Now she understood what he meant.
— Seek out the black marble palace.
— But mark my words, the ruler there is merciless and cruel….
— But also as beautiful as he is cruel.
A slender thread of wind brushed her cheeks. Asteril, who had turned back blankly to look at the reed field, hesitated over her steps.
She had thought they would say more, but their whispers faded.
The reed field that had shone with brilliant golden light soon lost its luster beneath the dark clouds hanging overhead and transformed into ordinary weeds.
Whooo.
A gust of wind scratched across the desolate sand dunes as if urging her onward.
Plop, plop, falling raindrops chased her shadow. Asteril gazed at the ground with dark eyes and followed the trail the wind had left.
How long had she walked through the thick fog? It was when her calves began to feel heavy. Suddenly the fog lifted, and faint moonlight illuminated her feet.
Cypress trees? Asteril made a puzzled expression. Cypress was originally a tree of mourning. It symbolized death and sorrow, and was usually planted near graveyards or temples devoted to the god of death….
Did this mean this was the entrance to the underworld?
She walked briskly past the soaring cypress trees with her hands clasped as if worshipping darkness. Then finally, a palace hidden in the fog revealed itself.
The palace of black marble was more magnificent and dazzling than any structure she had seen in her life.
The golden relief carved into the gabled roof was so superb that even gathering all of Demeter’s finest masons could not hope to challenge it, and the nude statues standing at the entrance were so beautiful they seemed to have imprisoned the souls of gods.
Without a doubt.
This was where the King of Hades resided.
Suddenly, a sweet scent wafted from somewhere. Asteril, sniffing the air, put on a delighted expression. It was the fragrance of wine. A deep, elegant aroma guided her footsteps as if beckoning.
“A maiden of Demeter.”
“A new Persephone has come….”
Asteril whirled around at the cold feeling on the back of her neck. There was no one. The moonlight falling upon the tops of her sandaled feet felt as cold and sharp as glass with substance.
— Welcome, you.
It was a low, rich voice with a sweet tone. An accent unlike any she had ever heard was dignified yet indifferent and cold.
— Welcome to Hades.
Who…. Where are they speaking from?
No sooner had she looked around than the palace door creaked open. Dusky lights illuminated the path ahead.
A chill rose from the red marble floor. The light of the sporadically placed torches was truly mysterious. The inner flames were purple.
Walking between columns arranged in a lattice pattern and ascending shallow steps, another long corridor appeared. It seemed to be the hallway leading to the main palace. At the end of the corridor, a massive ash-wood door was firmly shut.
The beautiful door handle bore a carving of a wolf’s head, and where the double doors met, there was a relief of a giant stag with massive antlers.
“The door, please….”
Once again, the door creaked open without a sound. Only then did Asteril realize the cause of this eerie, chilling atmosphere.
There was not a single person. No gatekeeper, no soldier, no attendant, not even a single ant to be seen.
Inside the main palace, floating embers drifted above long water channels running along both sides of the floor, lighting the way ahead. As Asteril walked cautiously between them, she stopped with a start.
Someone was seated, leaning askew upon a stone throne arranged atop an altar-like height. She could feel a gaze silently staring down at her, chin resting upon an armrest.
Instinctively, she knew. That he was the infamous ruler of Hades.
Asteril stepped forward, bent her body, and knelt upon the floor. Her long chiton dress, stained with dirt and sand, settled in waves upon the ground.
“M-my King of Hades….”
Her nervous voice trembled ever so slightly.
“I am Asteril, the Third Princess of Demeter, here to greet the ruler of darkness and Thanatos.”
Kneeling upon the floor, she bowed her head deeply.
The texture of the marble against her forehead was as cold and hard as ice. Breath escaped from her chapped lips and moistened the back of her hand.
Marble columns also lined the corridor of the main palace leading from the door to the throne, and between these columns shadows were faintly visible.
Fierce gazes glared at her, growling. It was not that there were no people. They had all hidden their bodies in the darkness and were watching her.
— You….
Every voice of a natural being possesses an inexpressible color. Such was the man’s voice that resonated directly inside her head.
— Are you the ninth Persephone?
“Yes, I am.”
Her fingertips stung. The gust of wind brushing her cheek slipped quickly between the columns as if hiding a sharp blade.
When she raised her head, she could see the King, draped in a black chlamys, rising from his chair and staring down at her. The inside of the palace was so dark that even moonlight seemed blocked out, and the face of the King, with even the torches at his back, could not be properly seen.
— The entry of Persephone into the palace is permitted.
As he walked away with his clothes fluttering, the candles began to go out one by one with whooshing sounds.
His low voice was slow but swept without fail between the columns, issuing a warning.
— It is the hour of Hypnos. Return to your quarters, without exception.
It was a frigid command. A fear that this must be obeyed seeped beneath her skin. The shadows that had been glaring at Asteril glanced about and retreated one by one into the darkness.
Asteril, who had been sitting with both hands pressed to the floor, let out a long breath and buried her face in her knees once all signs of people around her had vanished.
As she caught her breath, a question arose in her mind. Would he not separately verify that she was indeed a princess of Demeter?
She frowned and looked down at her hand. On the finger that had felt as though cut by something earlier, a thick drop of blood had congealed.
With a blank face, Asteril gazed at the empty throne where the King had sat.
Just then, the door opened again and someone walked between the dark columns, avoiding the paths lit by candles.
“Your Highness.”
A boy who looked about twelve or thirteen came before her and bowed. The boy, wearing only white cloth around his lower body, stood barefoot on the cold floor and smiled faintly. He seemed to be a child who worked in the palace.
When the boy gestured for her to follow, Asteril rose and trailed after him.
Whenever his wavy brown hair touched his cheeks, seeming to tickle him, he would brush it away with his hand in annoyance.
“For goodness’ sake, this blasted wind again….”
A snickering laugh drifted through the night air. Asteryl, who had been gazing into the pitch-black void, quickly spotted the culprit behind the mischievous prank. Bukpung sat between the shrubs with its tail draped over them, giggling as if it might die of delight.
Meanwhile, the boy came to a halt before a modest room.
“This is the princess’s quarters. You may go anywhere in the detached palace, but you cannot freely enter or leave the main palace. The garden you just crossed marks the boundary between the detached palace and the main palace. See that you remember it.”
“Ah, I was hoping to take a walk in the garden….”
“It is the Hour of Hypnos. Without the King’s command, none may walk the darkness.”
The boy answered sharply in a youthful voice, then turned around and went out, slamming the door behind him.
Asteryl stood there with a blank expression, then collapsed limply onto the bed. Beyond the window, petals brimming with moonlight drew ripples through the air as they fluttered.