Halves

XXVI. Hades

I could sense Demeter approaching, her footsteps humbler and more hesitant than I ever heard before. I hope that means things will finally start to heal between them, that something new can grow from the fault lines that have been widening their rift for years.

It mostly depends on Demeter. 

Knowing Persephone, she will pour all of her energy into improving their relationship on her end, much like how she made life bloom in the Underworld. I know she is tender enough to foster whatever fragile beginnings her mother gives her, and stubborn enough to keep trying until they are strong enough to stand on their own.

I only hope Demeter will realize what a gift she has been given, to have another chance with a daughter like that.

There is still much to be done in my kingdom. Although Persephone successfully abated her mother's wrath, the damage remains. Charon works constantly to ferry the shades across the Acheron; the crowds of them have only just begun to thin after this first month of warmer weather. I am kept busy from the very start of each day, separating them into their respective afterlives. Although I am utterly exhausted by the end of the day, this is probably a good thing. 

Staying so busy does not allow me much free time to wallow in my sadness.

Because of my full schedule, I do not communicate often with Persephone either. I want to respect this vulnerable time she spends with her mother, so I stay quiet for the most part. 

Something has changed within me, though. 

Ever since Persephone bound herself to me and my world, my own connection to the earth is stronger, a dull sword that has been freshly sharpened. If I allow my senses to reach out, I can always find her above me, distinguish her footfalls and touch the warmth she leaves in her wake.

Being able to feel her presence in even those small ways makes her seem closer.

I do send her dreams some nights, the nights when I do not drift off right away. I worry about her, when she wakes in the middle of the night and pads to her window to stare off into the darkness. It saddens me to think she might awake from a nightmare searching for my arms, only to find herself alone. 

On those nights I send her dreams of Elysium, or fields filled with asphodels.

My sheets still smell like her, the fresh scent of roses and sun-warmed grass that she never lost during all her time here.

Despite the blurring of each day into the next, I find myself tracking time in a way I never have before. During the War, any timekeeping I did was in the weary hope that one more day would finally lead to the end of the carnage. After I first met Persephone in Olympus, time again gained meaning for me in an impatient, disorienting way, as I never knew when I would talk to her again, keeping me on edge. 

Now I am counting down the passage of months in the mortal world, awaiting the homecoming of my Queen.

Never would I have imagined myself here. 

When the third month ends, I cannot go any longer without at least seeing her. I travel to the mortal world under my own power, hidden by my Helm of Darkness. Out of respect for Persephone, I will not grieve Demeter with the noise of my chariot or the unwelcome sight of my person.

All I want is a glimpse of my Persephone.

The mortal world is bursting at the seams with warmth and growth, all of nature rejoicing at its fair protectress, come back to grace it with her presence. There is a transformation to it, a disorderly, joyous beauty that spills over the borders of Demeter's familiar touch.