"How dare you enter my domain with such deceptions on your tongue! Take your tricks elsewhere, Messenger, and leave me my peace!"

The arm rests of Hades’ ebony throne cracked beneath his tightening grip. Long had it been since his placid palace had been disturbed by the echo of his booming baritone, but now, centuries after he had taken up his post as the God of the Underworld, he at last had a personal visitor from Olympus on high.

Even as a seething hate took hold over his thoughts, he retained the presence of mind to recognize how foolish he had been to expect anything more than bad news. He was in denial, and it fell to the hesitant Hermes to point it out.

A nervous chuckle escaped the Messenger of the Gods as he reflexively slid his foot back a step. "Please, great Hades," he beseeched, "spare me your terrors. You must recognize that I, the least of the Gods of Olympus, would surely not dream of making the perilous journey into your domain for the sake of a simple prank. My purpose here is innocent, and my words to you are true."

"Can it be?” The whisper of a slight figure hidden behind the slate gray walls went unheard by the debating deities. She peaked around to gauge the scene and saw that Hades had risen from his chair to bring the full weight of his presence to bear against the flighty interloper.

"It was Zeus himself who gave me his blessing to take Persephone’s hand!" Hades bellowed. "Does not a father have a right to choose his daughter’s betrothed?"

"Surely, surely," replied Hermes. "But Demeter will hear none of it. She denies the mortals the bounty of her domain, and they cry out ceaselessly to Olympus for relief. It is my grave regret to be the one to bear such unfortunate news to you, Lord Hades, but for their sake, Zeus has changed his mind."

"For his own sake, no doubt," Hades corrected. He slumped back into his seat and took to massaging his temples. "I am no stranger to the wailing of mortals, and yet, I am expected to simply endure it. That is the lot I drew. I have endured it unbroken for ages. Silent. Alone."

Hermes' frivolous facade darkened for but a moment as the most deathful of the deathless gods heaved a wearied sigh. "Now," Hades continued, "the much-beloved King of the Gods gives in after enduring it for mere months.” He levied his cold and stony gaze at Hermes once more. "I quite doubt you will find him any less glorious for such an egregious failure."

Though Hermes laughed, his eyes displayed a somber character that tempered his usual mirth. Smiling weakly, he turned from Hades to begin on his way. "I am but the messenger, my lord. And so, I will carry your message to Olympus: in three days’ time, Persephone will be returned to her mother."

The intensity of Hades stare waned somewhat, and Hermes regained his smirk. The messenger turned his eyes toward the corner around which the goddess had hidden. "Perhaps three more days will be long enough for you to capture her at last."

Hades followed Hermes’ gaze with narrowed eyes, but unlike the trickster, he’d been too slow to recognize the presence of his would-be wife. She was off just as he rose to his feet, dashing mad through the halls of his great palace in search of any exit, any escape from the prison it had become for her.

Just three days. She could hardly believe it. Three days, and she would be freed to return to the warmth of her mother’s presence and the embrace of the flowers and brush. Memories of nymphs dancing in the sunlight gave her hope against the cold darkness of the Underworld.

"Persephone!” Hades’ shout resonated through the dimly-lit halls, but his call only spurred the goddess on more quickly. She rounded a corner and found a dead end. She spun about and sought a new path, her eyes desperately hunting for any escape. She could feel Hades’ presence pressing in on her. Her breath caught in her throat. Cornered, she pressed her back to the wall and shut her eyes tight.

"Smaller, smaller. Shrink and shrivel. Mask the bud."

She recited a chant she’d learned from the nymphs: a simple verse the revelrous maidens chanted to hide themselves from mortal eyes. It made her feel safe when nothing else could. In that desperate moment, her divine blood gave it power that the nymphs knew not.

"Persephone!"

"Petals dance and turn and fade, flutter, flit away."

Hades called out for her again, but his voice grew smaller, distant. Her chest grew tight as the walls pressed in around her, shutting out what little light there was.

Her eyes shot open, and she inhaled the stale air that hung over the meadow of gray. Beside her, an oversized, freshly-flowered tulip--her creation, her salvation--shriveled and faded, smothered by the ashen winds of the colorless expanse.

Before her crouched a maiden whose gray garb blended with the surroundings. The disoriented goddess scarcely saw her until she spoke. "Oh, poor dear," she said. "Have you lost yourself?"

Persephone rose onto her elbows and pushed away, but the stranger offered a comforting hand. "It’s all right," she said. "You are safe here."

"Where am I?" Persephone breathed.

"This is the Asphodel Meadow," said the shade. "The final resting place of the dead who were lukewarm in life."

Persephone lifted herself further to look out at the sprawling meadow and the countless figures who wandered aimlessly among the tall grass. "Still the Underworld," she somberly observed.

"Of course, dear.” The shade tilted her head, looking puzzled. "Are you new?"

The setting more than the question proved overwhelming to the wayward goddess, who could scarcely fight back the tears welling up in her eyes. "I don’t belong here," she whimpered. "How could this have happened? Why?"

As her quiet tears grew into outright sobs, the kind shade looked upon Persephone with pity. She reached out and pulled the goddess into an embrace the latter found surprisingly warm.

"Be at peace, little princess," she soothed. "It is not such a terrible thing to be here. While it is true that we consigned to this meadow must wander it for eternity, not all who wander are lost."

She cast her placid gaze out into the distance, and Persephone followed it with her own. As her tears fell away and left her vision unobscured, her eyes were opened to the serene beauty of that quiet place. It was colorless, but calm, and perfectly temperate. It swiftly swallowed the colorful creations that sprung up from her tears, refusing to allow any good nor any evil to disturb it.

"The dead are not allowed to keep their memories here," said the shade, and Persephone’s attention returned to her. "We are left with little more than impressions of the lives we have lived."

The shade’s features twisted, and her bearing brightened as she struggled after her identity. A tinge of color returned to her--a hint of ebony in her flesh, a glint of gold upon her head--and she gazed curiously at the tips of her fingers as if studying some foreign creature.

"I was something great in my time," she uttered. "I remember something of it, I think. Something complex surrounding all the little things I could never hold. A husband. Children."

She clutched her chest, and her eyelids seemed to grow heavy like her heart. "I remember great anguish."

A long moment passed between the two, and in that time, her form settled back into the featureless gray save for the smile that came to her face. "I am free of that sorrow now. I know no joy, but I know no pain. It is as peaceful and pleasant a fate as any who live as simply as I can ask for."

Persephone became pensive, confused by the woman’s words. "It does not sound like a fate I would wish on anyone," she said. "Do you not remember dancing? Do you not long for the colors and scents and sounds of life? Has your zeal and passion gone with your memory?"

The woman let out a dry chuckle. She gave Persephone a light pat on the shoulder. "You spoke truly after all," she said. "Yes, I can see it now. You do not belong here. The light and color that comes in your wake marks you as something…other."

"I am Spring and life," Persephone explained. "I am the daughter of earth mother Demeter and the King of the Gods. I was stolen from my home among the flowers and trees to languish in this nightmare realm, but they’re going to come to save me soon. I just have to stay away from him until they come for me."

The shade examined Persephone closely, curiously, her countenance shifting between expressions of doubt and understanding. She was slow to initiate a response and slower still with every word. "You make lofty claims," she said, "but it is clear that you do not live under the haze of the restful dead. It is just as clear that you judge our condition quite harshly."

She stepped past Persephone, seeming to grow antsy. She stared listlessly into the distance, seeking something on the sunless horizon. "There are greater wonders here. There are greater horrors as well. This much I do remember. The gods on high are fickle, and they bless and afflict we who live and die on whims that shift as swiftly as the tide. But there is but one god who rules these lands, and he, just and stoic as he is, has seen fit to grant the dead a place where they can be at peace."

The shade faced the goddess once more. "It is the province of those blessed with eternity to endlessly chase the highs and lows, but in the eye of the wizened mortal, peace is the greatest good. I am at peace here."

Persephone pursed her lips, struggling after words she could not find. The shade’s claims introduced uncertainty into her perceptions of this place she’d found, but she could not forget all that her mother had told her about the gods and men who might seek to claim her. All of them were crude and harsh, she’d said, so how could the most feared god of all be less unkind? She found it impossible to believe, but ignoring the evidence all around her proved an equal challenge.

"Persephone."

A whisper on the wind caused her to perk up, and her head whipped to and fro seeking its source. "He’s found me!" she muttered vehemently. "I must get away! I have to get away!” The shade caught her by the wrist and held her fast before she could flee. She turned a fearful gaze on the gray figure only to find the same emotion reflected back at her.

"Wander with care, Spring Child," warned the shade. "You who are not bound to this placid plane might find a worse fate outside of it."

A moment’s hesitation was broken by the repeated call, "Persephone," now louder than before. The goddess tore free of the gray lady’s grip and sprinted off like a doe with a wolf at her heels. Frantic, she cared not where she went so long as it was away.

She had three days to run. She had three days to hide. Surely, there was some place in the Underworld where Hades could not reach. Even her mother could not see the whole earth, nor her father all of the sky.

She ran past more shades than she could ever hope to count. Most ignored her, lost in their wistful wandering. Others cast the fleeing goddess a cursory glance, but in her haste, she came and went before any could say a word to her. Their numbers dropped the farther she ran, and the tall gray grass decreased in height and spread.

She found her bare feet impacting against a harsher surface. Dust and ash clung to her soles and the hem of her silken gown, and jagged stones pushed against her heavenly flesh. The mounting discomfort prompted a decrease in her pace, and she whimpered and whined as she at last calmed enough to take better stock of her surroundings.

The shades were gone, as was the colorless vegetation, and there was naught but a barren expanse as far as her eyes could see. She hugged herself and massaged her arms, proceeding more slowly now that she could no longer feel her captor bearing down on her.

Suddenly, however, she found herself almost wishing that he was near; the loneliness quickly became harder to bear than his presence had thus far been.

"Hello?" she called pathetically, hesitantly, uncertain that she wanted to be heard. What kind thing could she hope to find in such a dark place? Who could be expected to find her there and take pity? The meadow, at least, had been temperate and calm. She thought to turn back to it and perhaps hide herself amongst the shades, but even as she turned to seek the path she'd taken to find this place, all she could see was barrenness and decay.

Her eyes once more filled with tears. They slid down her cheeks and struck the unkind ground with a sizzle and steam. The dark land hissed at her, and she was soon made quite aware of its malice. Where her tears had fallen, the ground cracked and crumbled until it split open altogether. The goddess unleashed a shriek and stumbled backwards, but the expanding chasm seemed to chase her. She rolled to grip at something, anything, that might keep her out of the pit. Alas, the land of the dead was no friend to her, and it denied her the security she sought.

With a desperate cry, she surrendered to the fall, flailing helplessly as the darkness around her grew ever more pronounced. Everything in her being told her that this was the end of her, that even she, a goddess of laughter and light, could not endure the shadows that reigned here. She would be smothered and squashed until nothing remained of her brightness. Even immortality could not save her from this.