Primavera, Part 4

The palace was still deathly quiet as Primavera and Persephone crept down the stairs and across the front hall. Primavera didn’t know why, but the silence made her more anxious than any sound ever could. Her eyes flitted to every corner, her gaze lingering uneasily on the shifting shadows. The two women tried to mimic the aimless drift of the dead, but this wistful pace made it seem like the door refused to come closer.

Finally, they reached the exit and slipped out of the palace. They crossed the bridge and picked their way back through the many roads, just two more phantoms wandering about. Once they reached the last gate guarded by Cerberus, Primavera paused and peered around the edge.

Cerberus was only a few metres away, still gnawing at the first vine ball. She took one of the last two and tossed it to the hound. One of the heads noticed the movement and snapped at the ball, catching it in his mighty jaw. The others saw the new toy and sniffed in its direction.

The first head growled and tried to keep the ball out of their reach. Every time he shook the ball or another head hit it, powder sprayed across their faces. Primavera tossed the last ball over, and another head caught it in the air, blinking and shaking as powder fell in his eyes. Soon, the three heads were brawling with each other, the last head fighting to get a hold of one of the new toys. The cavern echoed with snarls and growls as Cerberus jumped and fell around. Each movement filled the air with more intoxicating powder.

Cerberus’s movements slowed down, and the snarling and barking weakened. He stumbled over his feet and fell to the ground with a heavy thud. All three heads yawned widely and found a spot to snuggle into a crossed paw. Primavera waited until the big hound’s breathing deepened and evened out before she pulled Persephone into the cavern.

‘Don’t breathe much—Zephyrus and I may have used more powder than we thought.’

Persephone nodded, and they hurried across the cavern to the dock. Charon wasn’t there. Primavera groaned softly. ‘We’ll have to wait for him.’

They found a spot near the dock but out of the sleeping Cerberus’s line of sight. Their wait was shorter than Primavera feared it would be. The lapping of the boat was barely audible but still unmistakable. Soon, Charon’s silhouette appeared through the spectral glow. Primavera and Persephone had to fight to keep from rushing onto the boat.

Once they were on, Primavera felt the weight in her chest ease a bit, though it wasn’t entirely gone yet. She only breathed relatively normally again when they were out of the tunnel and under the night sky with the stars shining brightly above them. They gathered the hidden provisions and headed towards the town.

‘Where are your horses?’ Persephone asked once they had found a place to spend the night.

‘We don’t have any. Zephyrus flew us here.’

‘What do we do from here then?’

‘I was supposed to take you to Hecate from here, but I’m worried that it will take too long. I think we should just go as far as the next town and summon your mother there.’

‘Very well, but we should leave at dawn. I want to get as far away from that entrance as soon as possible.’

Primavera nodded. They continued the rest of the way in silence, ears straining for any sound. Once they arrived at the town, they took a room in a small inn and settled in for the night. Both struggled to sleep. Primavera jumped at every movement outside, and Persephone kept tossing around on her mat, glancing out the window. The moment the sky lightened, they got a pair of horses and set off at a gallop. They reached the next town just after midday, panting, sweating, and glowing red.

‘You were serious when you said the sun has become unpleasant. How long has it been like this?’

‘Since your mother discovered you were in the Underworld and Zeus refused to order Hades to return you.’

‘But that’s been months! Is there anything still alive?’

Primavera shook her head with a sad smile. ‘Not really. Which is why we need to summon Demeter immediately. She’s the only one who can end this.’

‘Take me to the nearest meadow or cornfield.’

They found a brittle cornfield on the outskirts of town. Persephone looked around her in horror. Then, she closed her eyes, lifted her head slightly, and called her mother’s name into the searing sun. A patch of golden wheat ears began to rise from the cracked ground. They shot high into the air before settling back down to reveal the goddess standing in the middle.

‘Mother!’ Persephone called as she ran forward.

‘My dearest daughter.’ Demeter was beaming as she wrapped her arms around Persephone and held her tight. ‘I am so sorry you had to get dragged down into that horrible place. I should have been there.’

‘Primavera told me everything you’ve done to try and get me back. You’ve done plenty.’ She stepped back and her gaze travelled over the broken landscape with a pained expression. ‘Maybe a bit too much.’

Demeter gave her a small smile. ‘I may have pushed my resistance to an extreme, but it worked. It may not have been Zeus who relented, but Primavera proved to be a fine mediator.’

The two goddesses turned to face the nymph still standing on the cornfield’s edge, grinning broadly. Demeter waved her over.

‘Thank you for your help, lovely Primavera. You have shown more courage and perseverance than many of the Olympians. Although I must admit I was concerned when I found Thallo abandoned.’

Demeter cocked her head and lifted an eyebrow. Primavera blushed. ‘I ran into Zephyrus and we had a bit of a disagreement about whether I should continue with this quest.’

Demeter frowned and crossed her arms. ‘Zephyrus tried to stop you? A god of spring? Why would he?’

‘He was worried about what Zeus and Hades might do if they found out I freed Persephone.’ Primavera paused and bit her lip. ‘To be honest, while I’m happy to have helped, I’m a bit worried about that myself.’

Demeter smiled and held her hand out to the nymph. ‘Don’t be. I’ll shield you from them. They will never know you had any part in this.’

Demeter pulled Primavera into a hug, and the last tension eased out of the nymph’s shoulders. She couldn’t stop smiling. The only thing that dampened her triumph was knowing that Zephyrus was still stuck in the Underworld. Perhaps she could sneak back and get him now that they had a spare cloak again.

A darkening sky pulled Primavera from her thoughts as a shadow fell over the field. She looked up, excited to see the rain clouds gathering above them. But something about the clouds seemed odd. She narrowed her eyes.

‘Those aren’t clouds!’ she gasped.

Demeter and Persephone were also frowning up at the sudden darkness. The younger goddess lowered her gaze and turned pale. ‘They’re coming from Tenaerum.’

Demeter and Primavera’s heads snapped in the direction of the village. A pillar of shadows rose from the cavern and blocked out every bit of blue and sunlight on the horizon. Suddenly, there was a loud screech above them. The sound clawed up their spines, knocking the breath from their lungs. Primavera’s skin bristled as she glanced up.

A flurry of feathers blocked the sky. Flashes of lingering sunlight broke through as a horde of harpies gathered in the air. Their wings were broad, but the thin feathers looked worn and flimsy. As they slowly lowered, Primavera could see that the feathers were not fluffy like a bird’s; they were sharp and hard like thorns. The harpies’ entire bodies were covered in thorny feathers, and they swiped vicious talons at the three women, forcing them to huddle together.

One of the harpies screeched again, and Primavera winced. Her ears felt like they were bleeding. She whimpered and shrank into herself as the air around them thickened. Opening one eye, she saw the pillar of shadows bearing down on them. The barren field flickered as malevolent shades, wronged spirits, surrounded them. Everywhere Primavera looked, the field was dark and hazy.

The ground behind her rumbled, and Primavera glanced back. Demeter was pointing a hand at the nearest harpy, her face hard as marble. An ear of wheat shot from the ground and raced toward the bird-woman. It pierced the harpy’s chest. The harpy screeched and fell to the ground. Its feathers flailed, sending thin, sharp thorns in the refugees’ direction, but a thick grass wall blocked the onslaught.

Primavera took a deep breath and knelt on the ground. She dug her fingers into the hard earth and visualised a cluster of vines rising to protect them. Only four vines broke through the ground, but they were strong. They slashed fiercely at any harpy that tried to get near the three women. However, they were less effective against the shades. Primavera could feel icy fingers on her shoulders and back. She hissed but kept her focus fixed on the vines.

Her body trembled, icy tendrils creeping down her spine, but she refused to look up. A slight glow caught the corner of her eye, and she glanced at Persephone. A thin sheet of spring sunlight radiated from the goddess’s skin. The glow formed a barely perceptible wall around them that managed to keep most of the shades away.  

Primavera turned her full attention back to the ground. She frowned and dug her fingers deeper. Something beneath the ground seemed to be changing. It rumbled around her fingers and shifted with a movement neither she nor Demeter was causing.

Suddenly, the earth in front of them tore open. Primavera stumbled back into Persephone. Persephone’s glow flickered slightly, but she gritted her teeth and let the light flare again. The three women turned their eyes to the newest arrivals from the Underworld. Primavera’s heart fell.

Three gigantic serpents were pouring out of large holes in the ground. Their scales were black and hard as thick tar. Any sunlight that managed to slip through the canopy of feathers was instantly absorbed into their dark bodies. Their eyes glowed with a sickly green as they reared their heads and trained their gazes on the nymph and two goddesses.

Primavera’s skin crawled as they hissed, and the little bit of warmth left in her veins turned cold. She sat frozen to the ground, eyes glued to the enormous fangs that protruded from the serpents’ mouths. Persephone’s wall of sunlight wavered again, but this time, it flickered out. Primavera felt the young goddess sinking to the ground behind her, shivering and panting.

None of the creatures moved closer. Demeter was the only one still standing, wheat ears rustling beside her. The grass wall still guarded them from behind, but the goddess of the harvest let it slowly grow to rise between them and the serpents. The snakes hissed but didn’t attack. The harpies were glaring at them from above; the only sound was the rustling beats of their thorny wings.

A new shadow flew past them and landed between them and the serpents.

‘Drop the wall, Demeter,’ the creature whispered, its voice like water dripping into a fire. It was mesmerising, but Demeter refused to lower the wall.

One of the harpies screeched again, and Primavera grimaced as she and Persephone huddled together.

‘I said, drop it!’ the creature screamed, and Demeter relented, her face set in a hard line.

The golden grass shrank back into the ground to reveal another winged, woman-like creature. But unlike the harpies, she wasn’t covered in thin, thorny feathers. Her large wings were bare; the sickly grey skin showed every ripple of bone and muscle as they flared back. Her eyes were blood-red with black pupils, and streaks of blood ran down her pale cheeks. She scanned over the three women with a cruel smile.

‘Good. Lord Hades will be here momentarily to retrieve his wife. If you resist,’ the fury’s hand drifted to a thin, bony whip at her side, ‘I will tear the flesh from your bones.’

Demeter snarled, and the wheat ears bristled beside her again. The fury laughed, a cold, piercing sound. Then, she turned to the horizon where a dark dot was speeding towards them from Tenaerum. A dust cloud rose far behind it. As it came closer, Primavera could make out four black horses with shimmering coats drawing an ebony and gold chariot.

As the chariot pulled up in front of them, Hades surveyed the gathered hordes. His piercing gaze lingered on the three women framed by a crown of grass and wheat. He lifted his head only slightly, but it was enough to make him seem even taller. His presence towered over them as he met Demeter’s flashing eyes.

‘I will take my wife back now, Demeter,’ he said calmly. Then, he whistled loudly. Two more furies appeared from between the harpies and tossed a figure at the women’s feet. ‘And you can have the west wind back.’

Primavera jumped up. She lifted her foot to rush to Zephyrus’s side, but the weight of Hades’s gaze stopped her short. She glanced up at the god. He was watching her intently, his black, silky hair and robes rustling in a gentle breeze. Primavera relaxed slightly. At least Zephyrus was alive.

‘You cannot have my daughter,’ Demeter snapped. ‘She is not yours to take, not without my permission.’

‘I asked your permission, but you refused. I asked Zeus’s permission, and he gave it. I respect my brother more than I respect you.’ Hades’s smile was proud and regal.

Demeter bristled and pulled Persephone closer. ‘The only way you get my child is if I’m dead. Let’s see how much your brother will respect you if you’re the cause of an eternal drought.’

Hades shrugged. ‘Another goddess of the harvest can always be made as easily as the seeds you sow, Demeter. Do not presume you’re irreplaceable.’

Hades stepped off the chariot and walked closer. Demeter inched back, and the lord of the Underworld grinned. He lifted his obsidian sceptre and pointed at Persephone. ‘Come, we’re going home.’

Persephone stepped back, almost disappearing in the grasses that surrounded them. Demeter’s eyes flashed to her daughter, and a ghost of a smile played on the corners of her lips.

‘I don’t want to live in the Underworld,’ Persephone pleaded. ‘I love the world above; I love spring and the fresh air. Your kingdom is too dead and dreary.’

Hades grimaced slightly. His eyes faded over as he gazed into the distance; then, he nodded. ‘You can have a garden to yourself in the Underworld. Spring above comes and goes, but with your own garden, you can have an eternal spring.’

Persephone blinked and gaped at Hades. ‘You would really let me have my own garden?’

‘Of course. You will be my wife; you will have whatever your heart desires.’

Persephone glanced at Demeter. ‘What about my mother?’

Hades sneered. ‘She can visit, I suppose.’

‘That’s not enough!’ Demeter snapped. In one swift movement, she pushed Persephone deeper into the grass. The wall sank back into the ground, and the goddess of spring disappeared with it.

‘Demeter!’ Hades shouted.

The harpies screeched until the air trembled around them. They swept down to where Demeter was trying to shrink back into the remaining grass. Clawing at the grass, they dragged her out and flung her aside. The serpents pounced on her immediately, coiling around her as she screamed frantically.

Primavera jumped aside, barely missing the harpies’ talons. She crept to where Zephyrus was still lying unmoving on the ground. He groaned when she turned him on his back, but his eyes flickered open and he smiled. ‘We were right, he wasn’t happy. I guess my Persephone impersonation needs some refining.’

Primavera shook her head and smiled back at him, but her relief turned cold when she heard Demeter scream. ‘We should help,’ she said as Zephyrus struggled to sit up.

He looked over to where the serpents and harpies were dodging wheat ears while they tried to tear the raging goddess apart. ‘That may not be a very simple task.’

‘None of this was ever a simple task.’

Zephyrus sighed. ‘That’s true. Very well, help me up.’

They managed to get Zephyrus to his feet and took a few steps in Demeter’s direction.

A flash of lightning tore through the sky and hit the ground in a deafening crack. Primavera and Zephyrus were thrown back to the ground. The creatures of the Underworld froze where they were, squinting as they scanned the horizon. Another flash of lightning lit the sky, and they crept back to Tenaerum. Hades, Demeter, Primavera, and Zephyrus were left standing in the damaged field, eyes glued to the sky.

A third flash lit the earth and hit the ground a short distance from where the remaining deities stood. When the blinding light subsided, Primavera found herself nearly face-to-face with Zeus, who was glaring fiercely at them.

‘Enough!’ he thundered, his voice reverberating across the scorched field. ‘Demeter, bring Persephone back. Immediately!’

Demeter sighed and let a fresh cluster of grasses sprout. When they shrank back down, they revealed a wide-eyed Persephone. She blinked a few times, then turned to her mother with a scowl. ‘Was that entirely necessary?’

Demeter shrugged and turned back to Zeus. ‘You can’t give her to him. She is not yours to give away.’

‘Yes, she is. She is my daughter, too, and Hades is a worthy husband. She will want nothing.’

‘And what of sunlight, the scent of blossoms, and the kiss of the wind? These are not gifts his realm can offer her!’ Demeter snapped, crossing her arms as she met Zeus’s gaze with a deep scowl.

‘Hermes!’ Zeus called. The messenger god slipped out from behind Zeus’s muscular frame, flashing a glare in Zephyrus’s direction.

‘Yes, Lord Zeus?’ he asked tightly.

‘As the mediator to all gods, what would you suggest we do to fix this? Who should relent?’

Hermes studied Demeter, Hades, and then Persephone. He scanned the field, riddled with drought and destruction. Even he had to admit that this feud had gotten badly out of control. He didn’t expect Zeus to let it go on this long, but still preferred to stay in the greater deity’s good graces. Not that this problem had a straightforward answer.

Muttering to himself, Hermes nodded slightly and turned to face Zeus again. ‘They both need to relent.’

Zeus frowned. It was unusual for Hermes to give such an ambiguous answer. ‘How do you mean?’

‘Clearly, it won’t work if only one of them has Persephone with them permanently. If she is not with Demeter, nothing will ever grow on the earth again and we will all starve and wither with time.

‘But since you have already permitted Hades to marry Persephone, she is, by law, his wife and can’t be denied him now. He will keep sending the worst of the Underworld to retrieve her. So, I suggest that Persephone spend one half of the year with Demeter and the second half with Hades. That way, they both get to have time with her.’

Zeus nodded and turned to his siblings. ‘Will you accept this compromise?’

Hades and Demeter glanced at each other and nodded tightly before Demeter addressed Zeus, ‘But who will herald spring if Persephone is imprisoned in the Underworld?’

‘Primavera will,’ Persephone cut in. ‘She was willing to risk her life to save spring; she has earned the right to be a representative of the season.’

All the deities’ attention snapped to the nymph. Primavera froze, eyes darting between the greater gods. ‘How can I do that? I’m just a nymph from the valley.’

‘For now, but the Moirai predicted that you were destined to become a goddess,’ Hermes said with a sly smile at Zephyrus.

The wind god scowled at Hermes, and the wind picked up.

‘Zephyrus, calm down,’ Zeus cautioned the west wind. The breeze died down a bit, but Zephyrus kept glaring between the deities with his arms crossed. ‘Why would you not want Primavera to become a goddess?’

‘I know what that means; I know what that will cost me,’ Zephyrus spat through clenched teeth.

‘What do you mean?’ Primavera asked, frowning slightly. ‘You knew about this prophecy?’

Zephyrus sighed and uncrossed his arms. ‘Yes, I do. When you agreed to help Demeter, Hermes came to me and warned me that if you completed this journey, you would fulfil the prophecy to become a goddess. But he also warned me that if you became a goddess, I would lose you. That’s why I tried stopping you from freeing Persephone.’

Primavera’s frown deepened. ‘How would you lose me?’

‘You won’t need me anymore!’ Zephyrus yelled, his fists clenching at his sides as his voice cracked. Then, he grimaced and his shoulders sagged as he continued in a softer tone, ‘You won’t need the west wind to sustain life in your valley anymore. You’re already capable of creating life as a nymph. With the power of a goddess, you’d be able to spread spring across the entire earth on your own.’

Primavera gaped at Zephyrus. Her mind wouldn’t form words to respond; all she could do was stare. Demeter burst out laughing; the sound pulled Primavera from her astonishment.

‘I never would have guessed the west wind so foolish!’ the goddess of the harvest managed to say between laughter. ‘But then again, you are the most frivolous of the winds; I suppose it shouldn’t be a surprise that you don’t know the laws.’

Zephyrus frowned. ‘What laws?’

Zeus shook his head and answered. ‘For Primavera to become a goddess of spring, she will need to marry a god of spring. That would be you, Zephyrus.’

Zephyrus stared at them blankly for a moment before realisation dawned on him and he spun to face Hermes with a growl. ‘You lied to me! You lied to manipulate me!’

Hermes shrugged. ‘I wanted to make sure you would be motivated enough to stop Primavera and keep us all in Zeus’s good graces. But of course, you had to be difficult and follow your heart more closely than your head.’

Zephyrus bristled, taking a few steps towards Hermes. A thin spear of lightning flashed and cracked between them. Zephyrus jumped back, blinking at Zeus. The lord of gods pinned the west wind with his gaze. ‘No more fighting. We are done here. We have two weddings to prepare for.’

***

Primavera stood overlooking the lush spring garden. She could faintly hear the rumbling of the ocean at the cliff’s feet. It was the same room Zephyrus had kept her in before, but at least now she could leave whenever she wanted. She wouldn’t have to climb down the wall again. This time, however, she had no intention of leaving.

A few nymphs were fussing around her, straightening her ivory robe and fastening woven belts around her waist. The sun was setting into the ocean. It lit the marble palace in hues of gold. The garden shone brightly, beautifully decorating the small isle and podium that had been set up in the centre.

Persephone and Hades’s wedding had been a grand event in Olympus, attended by almost all the deities. They announced that Primavera would become a goddess at the event, but becoming only a minor deity meant a smaller ceremony. Primavera was quietly relieved. She had felt entirely out of place among the greater deities in Olympus. Now, she would only have to manage a few familiar faces.

The ceremony was brief. Primavera and Zephyrus exchanged vows, their hands bound together in a soft, pink sash. Then, they drank sweet nectar from a rose gold goblet and sealed the union with a kiss. Once the wedding was over, Zeus stepped forward and crowned Primavera in a garland of golden leaves and bright gemstones. He blessed her and placed her hand in Zephyrus’s hand.

Lightning flashed around them, sending a surge of energy racing through Primavera’s veins. Her heartbeat quickened as the power burned through her, leaving a warm hum in its wake. She breathed in deeply. When she breathed out, the surge calmed down and settled. She could still feel the power humming distantly through her.

‘From this day forth, you are Khloris, goddess of flowers and harbinger of spring. You will prepare the earth for Persephone’s return each year and tend to the season alongside her, or when she cannot. Do you accept these responsibilities?’

Khloris smiled brightly. ‘I accept.’

Zeus nodded and stepped back. Khloris faced the guests and closed her eyes. New flowers blossomed up the aisle. Zephyrus stepped up next to her and wrapped his arm around her waist, grinning broadly.

‘Long reign the spring.’

Written: December 2024