THE MOURNING MOTHER // THE ANGERED GODDESS

"Where is my daughter? Where is Persephone?" Demeter enquired, her voice low but grave. All the nymphs quivered against the wall, their legs trembling as they all shook their heads. Each of them took their turns in answering their master, their voices barely gracing a whisper and lacking the boisterous melodic rumbling that characterised their speech.

"We have not seen Persephone since the morning, goddess. None of us. She rose before the sun and had her breakfast as usual, then she left for the meadow and has been gone ever since." One of the nymphs spoke up, her voice a small shrill as she gulped.

Demeter stood straight, her chin held high as she looked upon the nymphs. They all appeared genuinely afraid, and Demeter could not recognise any falsehood in them. Her nymphs were loyal servants. Finally, Demeter sighed and moved her eyes towards the nymph who had spoken.

"You may all return to your chores, however, some of you must go back to the meadow in search of Persephone. If any of you returns without my daughter, you will be trapped inside the bark of an olive tree or turned into corn stalks. Now vanish, all of you." She commanded and all the nymphs present scattered like the wind, their rushed steps barely making a sound against the polished marble flooring.

Then, a small voice squeaked "My lady, the goddess Hecate has arrived as you requested." The small nymph then made herself spare as she went away in a whirlwind of long green hair and cinnamon coloured skin.

Demeter brushed the skirt of her pristine dress, the golden fabric pooling around her feet and dragging behind her like a veil kissing the earth she stepped upon. She tightened her fists around the silk shawl draped over her arms as the wide wooden doors opened, the silvery moonlight washing over the room and coating it with an eerie glow.

From the shadows stepped the tall and slender body of Hecate, her midnight hair floated around her similar to a dark gloriole, her crown of thorns sitting idly across her head of raven locks. Her bright, unnerving amber eyes shone through the darkness, casting a faint yellowish glow on the pale skin of her cheeks.

"Demeter," She bowed, her voice a soft, yet deadly tune, like the enchantments she weaved in the dead of the night against mortal men. Demeter felt the corner of her lips twitch. She had never been fond of the mistress of the dark, yet she would do whatever had to be done to find her daughter. That reckless child. She would face her punishment once she was found, and if she thought that hiding from her mother would make a clever jest, then Demeter would have no other choice but teach her the biggest blague ever told. Even if it had to be written in her golden gore.

"I am to assume that you have been informed of the reason your presence was required with such hastiness." She spoke, her voice-controlled, her smile unwavering. She moved across the parlour like an aureate dove, her light footsteps taken graciously.

"Graceful Persephone has gone astray, am I wrong? Your beautiful marionette, lost. When I asked your nymph to humour me with your request, I never quite thought I would be in for an actual laugh." Hecate taunted, her lavender coloured lips curling into a cruel smile. Demeter's smile twitched, but her pleasing expression did not falter.

"Charming as always, three-faced goddess. My daughter is missing as you can clearly notice. None of the nymphs has seen her since the very break of dawn. As her mother, you see, I am very worried about her. She is only a child." Her voice was sicklily sweetened, her lips curled down in feigned sorrow, her eyes haunted by the illusionary shadows of fear and worry.

Hecate's lips turned upward with mirth, her rich laughter, delicate as the flowers growing in the meadow. "A child? Persephone?" She humoured her. "My, my Demeter, what has become of you, goddess?" Demeter's eyes narrowed. She would not concede for Hecate to humiliate her in her own home.

"Enough." The fire burning in the torches lining the walls flickered. "Do not think for even a moment that your disrespect has gone unseen, but I am willing to forsake punishment. Only if you help me find my daughter. Goddess of Twilight, you who see everything that happens in the shadows, you must know what is of her."

Hecate's cheerful demeanour disappeared almost instantly. The yellowy light of her eyes seemed to burn brighter and if possible, the shadows surrounding her seemed to grow darker. Her hair, which had been floating freely about her, stood still as the caliginous shadows on her face obscured her features. Her chthonian nature coming through. "You dare threaten me." She pronounced slowly. "Very well, have it your way, Demeter. I will help you find Persephone. Consider my debt to her father, Zeus, as paid." Demeter's lips curled in a sated smile.

"Of course, I don't think Zeus will have any objection to that."

Hecate stepped forward, the moonlight following her steps. She held her extended arm to Demeter, the glistening blade of the moon kissed dagger laying on her open palm. Demeter wrapped her fingers tightly around the hilt and pressed the sharp end to her own wrist. The help of the shadows came with a price, and the only acceptable currency was blood. Immortal ichor. She slid the blade along her unblemished skin, a single thread of gold trailing down to her hand. Demeter held her fist close to Hecate's mouth, a single drop falling down to her awaiting tongue.

The torches went out all at the same time, only to be born again, their scorching ember a blueish hue. Their warm embrace replaced with a ghoulish chill.

"I can't see her. Persephone is not anywhere where the moon keeps its silent vigil."

Demeter narrowed her eyes and glanced at the moon standing outside in its quiet watchfulness.

"Where on the mortal realm could she be then?" As she asked the question, the answer became evident. Her expression soured.

Zeus.

Hecate studied Demeter thoroughly, and as if understanding what she had thought added: "Perhaps you should consult Helios, the seeing-eye of gods and men."

"Perhaps," She pondered out loud.

"She is a goddess, Demeter. She should be able to remain unhurt." As the statement left the witch's lips, Demeter stilled. She tilted her head back and let out a peal of uncanny laughter. To the ear's of a mortal, it would have been a beautiful, rich sound. To Hecate, it was deranged.

"Unhurt? She is merely a child." Demeter snapped. "She is my daughter, and whoever took her from me, I will hurt badly." The threat lingered between the two goddesses. Hecate's lips twitched, the corner of her purplish mouth bending upwards.

"Very well."

With that, Hecate dissipated like mist, obscuring the room. After she left, the torches were once again casting their earthy glow upon the walls, warming the room and the goddess standing in it.

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"Helios," Demeter spoke in a quiet voice, sinking into a curtsy before the young titan. She stood in front of his chariot-team, and the resplendent goddess spoke again "Show me respect, god to goddess, if ever I have pleased your heart in word or deed."

The sun god leaned forward and grabbed her by the chin, lifting her face from the ground. Demeter met his eyes through her lashes and kept her lips in a firm line. "Speak, mother of crops, what is it you require of me."

"It is about the girl born to me, a sweet young seedling, renowned for her beauty. She has disappeared. I turn to you as one who ranges over all the earth and sea as you look down from the bright ether with your sunbeams. Tell me without error whether you have by any chance seen my child." She pleaded, her voice soft, her expression worried. Her hand shot upwards, her slim fingers curling around the fabric of his ivory tunic.

"Tell me, who has taken her from me by force, against her will, and then gone away? Tell me which one of the gods or mortals did it." So she spoke, hiding the blatant fury that burned a bright white light inside her behind performed concern.

The son of Hyperion answered her, his face a blinding light, waving fair hair framing his angular face. "Daughter of Rhea with the beautiful hair, Queen Demeter. You shall know the answer, for I greatly respect you and feel sorry for you as you grieve over your child. No one else among all the immortals is responsible except the cloud-gatherer Zeus himself, who gave her to Hades as his beautiful wife. So he gave her to his own brother, and she, Persephone, the one with the delicate ankles, stepped willingly in his chariot as he headed for the misty realms of darkness." Demeter stilled. She let go of his tunic and straightened her back immediately. She shook her head, her anger manifesting itself on the prickly thorns that grew on her skin, coating her arms.

In the realm of the mortals, the land shook. The crops withered, the wind stilled and the soil turned sour. Dark, heavy clouds shadowed the sky, submerging the land of men in a thick veil of darkness.

"Zeus," She growled furiously. Helios frowned, grabbing Demeter by the hand.

"I urge you, goddess: stop your loud cry of lamentation: you should not have an anger without bounds, all in vain. It is not unseemly to have, of all the immortals, such a son-in-law as Hades." Demeter laughed and pulled her hand away from him.

"Have you lost your mind, Helios? Hades, the unseen one, marrying my sweet Persephone? He does not get to have her! She is mine!" She roared. "They have tricked her, she is nothing but a foolish girl. She couldn't have gone willingly, he took her. That despicable bastard."

In her anger at the one who is known for his dark clouds, the son of Kronos, she shunned the company of gods and lofty Olympus. And left the earth to starve, crops, if any grew, withered, and the land refused to birth plants. The wrath of the goddess had been awoken, and nothing would douse the flames but the return of the girl Persephone.