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- Herausgeber: Dragonfire Press
- Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
- Serie: Fated & Cursed
- Sprache: Englisch
A goddess bound by duty and the god who’ll sacrifice everything to set her free.
Persephone, goddess of spring, is sheltered by her powerful Olympian mother, Demeter. Yet, against her mother's stern decree to shun all men, be they mortal or divine, Persephone finds herself ensnared by the allure of a mysterious stranger wandering through her sanctuary.
In clandestine rendezvous spanning countless moons, Persephone's fascination blooms into an unexpected love, only to unveil that her paramour is no mere mortal but the enigmatic Hades, sovereign ruler of the shadowed realm beneath the earth. Despite the whispers of dread from the mountaintop goddesses, Persephone glimpses the benevolent heart within the god of the Underworld.
Torn between living in a world where she is beholden to obedience and a life of ruling alongside the god who has stolen her heart, Persephone ultimately chooses freedom. As Demeter's fury erupts in the wake of her daughter's perceived abduction, the earth quakes with her wrath, threatening to unravel both mortal and divine realms in her relentless pursuit to reclaim Persephone.
Discover a world where the death of innocence becomes a rebirth of self.
The Flower and the Flame reimagines the myth of Hades and Persephone, shining a light on the dark road to becoming the master of one’s own fate.
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Seitenzahl: 127
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024
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The Flower and the Flame
Fated: Hades and Persephone
Kerri Keberly
Copyright © 2024 by Kerri Keberly
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the express written consent of the copyright holder, except in the case of brief quotations for the purpose of reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. All events portrayed in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form without the express permission of the publisher.
Cover design by Keith Robinson
Contents
Hades had grown accustomed to living in darkness. In fact, after ruling over it for so long, he preferred it, which was why he found it so curious he would be drawn to such light. That time after time he would venture out of the shadows and into the land of the living just to catch a glimpse of it. So radiant, so warm, so bright.
But here he was, yet again.
He cocked his head, staring at her from the shadows, the girl with the sky in her eyes and the flowers in her hair. To her, he appeared as an enormous black wolf, cautiously watching from a distance. How long had it been since her singing had stopped him in his tracks one early summer morning? At least two full moons now.
Though he never hid, he was careful not to stray too far into the meadow in which she picnicked or gathered flowers. It was true the shadowy tree line concealed his dark fur, but she always knew when he was there.
She would smile when she tried to coax him out, to come closer to her. The other forest animals went to her without much convincing at all, and he longed to be near her just as they did, but that would not end well. She might see his eyes, and how they held the same piercing intensity whether he took the shape of a wolf or a man.
A god.
He also might be tempted to speak. Though shrouded in a cloak of fur and claw, a wolf capable of speech would surely give away his immortal identity. He could not have that. The King of the Underworld was not favored among the goddesses of Olympus. As maddening as it was how they made their assumptions about him, there was nothing to be done. If they chose to see fire and flames in his eyes, fury in his heart instead of loneliness, then what could he do?
So, he relied upon the dark gazing pool in his realm, waiting for its magical reflection to show him when the goddess with hair the color of sunlight had entered the meadow once again. On those days he would shift into a wolf, coming up from below to sit and watch as she laughed and sang with the nymph companions her mother, Demeter, goddess of the harvest, had commanded to keep watch over her.
Hades doubted the task was a difficult one. He found Persephone to be an utter delight, not only to gaze upon, but to listen to. She sang often, and it had been her voice that had first caught his attention, while on one of his rare trips above ground. He could not remember the reason for his sojourn. Most likely some matter on Olympus, or perhaps it had simply been a whim for cooler air, but he’d heard Persephone before he saw her, voice like the freshest of breezes. When he did see her, that smile, oh how it shined brighter than Helios.
He whined, low and pitiful, the urge to go to her growing unbearable. He wondered how long he would be able to keep up this charade when a thought came to mind. Perhaps he should try disguising himself as an ordinary man. A passerby on his way to some temple. At least that way he could get closer to her. He could speak to her, if only to ask for directions to the nearest polis, or some other menial thing. A whimper caught in his throat, his contemplation overwhelming him. Having had enough torture for the day, he rose quietly, turning so he could head back to his domain undetected.
Persephone stopped singing, and then, quite unexpectedly, he heard her say, “Oh, do not go yet, my friend.”
Hades froze, torn between darting away and bolting towards her. Ever so slowly, he turned his massive head in her direction. She took a step forward, hands clasped together just below her throat, no doubt hoping this would be the day that she would finally convince the black wolf to come to her.
The nymphs looked on for a moment—some in horror, some in dismay—before managing to shake themselves out of their stupor. When she leaned forward, as though to take a step, they grasped and pulled on her arms, desperate to stop her from advancing any further.
Hades knew the fear squeezing the air from the lungs in their chests was from the hope that today would not be the day their mistress made friends with a giant beast. Demeter was fiercely protective of her daughter, and if Persephone were to be torn apart by an unnaturally large black wolf under their care, they would surely suffer a most terrible consequence. He must go, lest Persephone break free from their clutching hands and come to him.
Before he turned to leave, Hades raised his muzzle into the air and let out a long and suffering howl, even though there was no moon or a single star in sight.
Hades sat upon his throne, restless and possessing no knowledge of anything he could do to ease his torment. His seat of power was grand, carved of obsidian veined with pure gold. The room itself was large enough to accommodate a company of soldiers, yet its dark stone walls somehow seemed to be closing in on him.
Several days had passed, and he had tried to leave Persephone to her dancing and singing, to life as she knew it. Pure and peaceful. But knowing she was there, gracing the world above with her beauty and light, drove him to madness. It seemed he was doomed to dwell in the darkness; in a world where light did not exist. This did more than drive him mad, it haunted him.
He shifted when a swirling black mist rose from the tiled floor, blending into the surrounding darkness. Had it not been for the hammered copper braziers and elaborate chandelier to illuminate his surroundings, Hades wouldn’t have noticed it at all.
There was a grand stone arch through which all visitors entered, yet Hecate, goddess of magic, the night, and the moon, chose to appear directly before him.
Like Hades, Hecate was neither benevolent or malevolent, yet carried with her a reputation that made gods and man alike quake at the mere thought of her. All except Hades, for Hecate and he were kindred spirits, and she often visited him in the Underworld to give him counsel.
“Receiver of Many,” she greeted, floating closer. Her raven hair rippled in an unseen wind, the pointed ends of her black gown twisting and reaching like tentacles. “I do not think I have ever seen you so distressed. What vexes you?”
“Unrequited love, Hecate,” replied Hades, not bothering to hide the truth from the witch. “Is there anything in existence more torturous?”
“Love? For whom?” asked Hecate.
“Persephone, daughter of Zeus and Demeter.”
“I see,” said Hecate. “A most difficult situation, then, for the ruler of death and darkness to long for one who brings such life and light.”
Another confession poured out of him, unbidden. “I appear to her as a wolf when she is with her nymphs in the meadow, just to be near her. I can think of nothing else.”
“Ah! Then she does not know of your love.”
Hades slumped further down into the plush cushion of his throne. “I have not had the courage to tell her my darkness pines after her light, so she does not. And what would she do if she did? Is there any above or below who have not heard of the terrible god Hades? The sinister purveyor of death. Tell me, who does not cower in fear at even the thought of my name?”
Hades pushed himself up and stalked over to an ornate granite fountain holding a pool of still, dark water.
“I see.” Hecate glided to where he stood, the rolling fog that forever accompanied her moving with her. “The judgement that you should preside over the souls of the dead has caused you to lose as much as you’ve gained. But, after all that has been said and done, you are still a king. You can simply take the girl for your own.”
“There would be no honor in that,” replied Hades, not giving the witch any more leave to fill his head with terrible ideas. Ones that would not bode well for his already infamous reputation, which existed thanks to the unfounded presumption that he was the perpetrator of many diabolical offenses.
“Always one so willing to suffer in the name of honor, Hades. I fear following rules, giving respect where it is oftentimes undue, is the sole source of your misery.”
Had she not heard the words that had come out of his mouth?
“I do not wish to frighten her, or force upon her a life she does not want.”
“I have looked where no one else has dared,” Hecate continued, “into that black depth, and I have found a warm and caring soul in you, Receiver, though your mind broods over the careless misdeeds of gods and man. So misunderstood are you.”
She grew larger in size, cresting like a dark wave before breaking into a cascade of smoke, and the whisper of I know the feeling echoed in Hades’ ears as her ghostly figure reassembled to hover beside him.
Hecate looked down into the same dark pool, at the same image of Persephone as he did now, and said, “It is wise to let her choose. But first she must have something from which to make her choice. Love cannot grow from nothing. There must be soil in which to plant the seed. Go to her, offer her your heart, black as it may be, for the most fertile ground is always the darkest.”
Hades contemplated this as he watched Persephone’s reflection splash in a stream, laughing and giggling with sheer delight. Would he steal her happiness just so that he may find his?
“Speaking of honor,” murmured Hecate, interrupting his thoughts, yet again. Clearly, the witch was not done with the conversation. “Has the great and powerful Zeus given you what you are owed for so steadfastly governing those who no longer walk the Earth?”
Hades shook his head. “I have not yet asked for his word to be honored.”
Zeus had promised him a bride long ago, when Hades had agreed to rule over the dead. He hadn’t wanted such a realm, one of darkness and despair, but he hadn’t had a choice. Poseidon had already been granted the seas, and Zeus, of course, had claimed the heavens and Earth for his own. What was left for the third brother but to rule over imprisoned Titans and the souls of the dead?
“You have a good heart, Hades. You deserve a queen who lights it afire. Perhaps it is time for that brother of yours to make good on his debt,” said Hecate before vanishing, leaving no trace she had ever been there except for a curling wisp of smoke.
The sun warmed Persephone’s pale skin, and she inhaled the scent of wildflowers—green and tender and fresh—she held in her hand as she stared into the forest.
Day after day, she had gone to the meadow hoping to catch a glimpse of the black wolf. All she saw now were the vibrant hues of spring. Long green grass moved in the breeze, the dots of delicate blues and bursts of white and yellow swaying with it. As always, songbirds chirped their cheerful tune, and the buzz of a nearby hive, from which they would sometimes collect honey, filled the air.
But the wolf was not there.
In fact, she hadn’t seen the wolf sitting in its usual spot for nearly a fortnight. Had the mournful howl when she’d seen it last been its final farewell? It saddened her to think so, but she could not dwell in sadness for long, for the most cherished of all her nymph companions, Kyane, approached.
“The beast has not come today.” She tugged on Persephone’s elbow. “Let us go back to the others. They wish to go downstream and frolic.”
Persephone’s gaze dropped, her shoulders sinking with it. A moment later, she lifted her head and handed Kyane the flowers. “It is my friend, as all flora and fauna, and it will come again. I know it will, and I will rejoice in the moment it allows me to scratch behind its wild ears.”
Kyane nodded at the reproach before linking an arm with Persephone and leading her back toward the others. It was a patronizing gesture, Kyane’s nod, but it did not irritate Persephone for long. She found letting go of anger was the wiser choice. The happiness of living in the moment was all that truly mattered.
She wished her mother could do the same. How different they were. Where Demeter was reluctant to change, Persephone welcomed it. She supposed that was why she was the goddess of rebirth.
She inhaled cheerfully, turning her face up to the cloudless sky and reveling in the warmth of the sun shining down on her. Tomorrow was a new day. The wolf would visit again, she was sure of it. In all the days it had come, it had never prowled or hunted any of them like prey, only sat quietly and watched over them like a protector.
Comforted by this, Persephone reached her free hand down as she walked, brushing her fingertips over the tall grass and making wildflowers bloom in her wake.
The rays of Helios were bright this day, and Persephone sang happily as she tucked daisies into Kyane’s curls. The song caught in her throat when a rustling came from the woods on the other side of the stream.
