THE WEATHERED STONE PILLARS AND CREVICES OF GRANITE REFUSED TO LET ME OUT TO THE WORLD BECKONING ME ON THE OTHER SIDE.

My mother, she always did this.

The divine goddess left me to my own devices, locked and tucked away in the confines of the holy cave. Begging her to unlock me never aided the situation, and all my pleas landed on deaf ears.

You'll understand when you're older, my flower, she'd croon. Until then, I must keep you hidden away from the eyes of those lusty immortals.

Understand I could, only if Demeter let me grow up.

Instead, she guided my unwilling fingers to stalks of magnolia in tender youth, repressing the curiosities bubbling on my tongue.

When my skin would touch they flushed petals, traces of their life would wisp out like smoke, curling instantly to withered stalks dryer than the harvest ten years ago.

Dead buds floating on the surface of the river Cyane was not what I wanted.

What I wanted was nothing but silence, the silence of the dying, dark woods, bathed in the dim twilight, cold and quiet as the grave. What I wanted was death, to lie submerged in a shroud of darkness, in unison with the winter soil.

My fingers kept on raking against the huge stone wall, making the hangings on the ceiling tremble with unseen force. The velvet moss twinkled back at me as the pillars resisted all my force. Specks of caramel and cinnamon dust flew around my waist, but the wall did not budge an inch.

When would my holy mother realise that I was better suited for unmaking, for destruction, rather than creation?

"Persephone! My divine beauty, will you come hither to me?"

The muffled chime of a young man's voice from the other side of the imposing rock steadied my fears to give me a sliver of strength.

"Help me! Let me out!" I cried.

"Your wish is my command, oh eternal beauty. While away a few minutes until I can rescue you, my damsel!"

The eagerness in the man's voice was imminent and singing of truth, giving my forlorn mind hope anew to push once again at the wall.

The intent screech of busy nails on the outside and the forbidden need of freedom on the inside together moved the heavy, magical rock away from the entrance to clear a path.

Currents of grateful air flew in at once, curtains of spring breeze swept my scented hair away as the rock vacated my way. My merry voice trilled in happy freedom, twirling about on my nimble toes.

I felt like a caged canary being let out to see the blissful world once more.

I could swim about in the cerulean waves of the river Cyane. I could hop in the depth of the treacherous forests to explore the exotic blooming roses. I could climb the vast expanses of rolling green hills, I could, I could, I could. There was so much more I could do when Mother was not there.

"My Lady Persephone, never have I seen such an enchanting damsel," whispered the same hushed voice that had helped me break out of the cave. My back turned to find the enormous, soft wings of Hermes enveloping his divine form.

A sly grin, a whispered laugh, as Hermes, the Messenger of Gods, eagerly anticipated my reaction. His alabaster wings flapped in tandem with the breeze which blew his hair, gentler than a maiden's kiss.

Behind him stood another man, with a gilded harp in one hand and a pot of lilac orchids in the other. His locks were a hue of gold even more enchanting than the mighty sun. A bronze chiton wrapped his gleaming, strong body which bore the same shade as that of sunkissed brass.

He was Apollo, the deity supreme of music, healing, poetry and blessed sunlight, brother to the wise goddess Artemis.

"My beloved goddess, long is the time I have waited for this day," he crooned huskily with a brilliant smile. "To hold you in my arms and keep you safe, to never let you go." He strode to me as I nervously took some steps back.

"I don't want to be in your arms, Lord Apollo," my voice trembled yet held steel. "I want to swim in the flowing rivers of the gardens."

"Come, now," Hermes pressed further, fickle smiles flying in the wind like ribbons of satin. "Trust me, my dazzling lady. We'll make sure to give you a good time."

"No thank you, my Lord. Please, leave me be."

"We helped you out of your earthly prisons, sweetling. Won't you like to reward your saviours?" Apollo sweetly tinkled in a melodious voice.

Suddenly, his palm crept up to the vulnerable spot of bare skin on my arms, making chill spiders run down my fragile spine.

Hermes towered even closer, offering me the comfort of his rustling, huge wings, porcelain white in the sunlight. They flapped and cocooned me in an uninviting warmth, lulling my resisting senses into a false security.

"Please. Please stop touching me - my lord - please."

"Don't worry your pretty little head, my dove," he reassuringly comforted me. His thin, spindly fingers touched my cheek, something about them was unnerving - like cobwebs. They stroked the unblemished skin as my head burst into flames of unceasing panic.

"I implore you, my lords - please, leave me be!"

"Hush now, my little flower. Your mother won't know," Apollo stroked my head reassuringly. "You'll enjoy it, I promise."

Fluttering with terror like a dove and nearly on the verge of tears, my body began to tremble on the spot, unable to escape from the clutches of either god. It was trapping, stifling - suffocating. Prayer after prayer left my frightened soul like birds.

"We'll take her to your chambers, Apollo," Hermes nodded knowingly to the other who returned the acknowledgement. "You'll be quiet and take it like a good girl, won't you?" he lifted my chin in an iron grip stronger than pincers of steel.

The two lifted me up as my hushed whispers turned to screams of pure terrors, quivering and quacking with fright. This - this was the reason Mother never let me out. I swore that I'd always listen to her, if I could but escape and run away.

Suddenly, a tall man with a silk, deep voice curling like the quiet beginnings of raw ink emerged out of nowhere.

"I think the lady told you to leave her alone," the owner of the voice demanded.

∞