The Descension of Persephone by Ashini J. Desai

“Why be nothing above when you can be supreme here?”

Oh, dear Mother, how could I have known my world would change so quickly? I know I will be rescued so I must be patient. Maybe it is my fault for not knowing better.

I recall the events of the day and regret falling for those flowers in the fields of Nysa. Helios was reigning the sky that day, full of glorious sunshine and vibrant white clouds on blue skies. The fields were covered in a magnificent bloom and the fragrance of the vibrant pink and white flowers were alluring from afar. However, once I broke the delicate stems of those flowers, the gateway to hell opened in a furious storm.

“Kore, look out!” my friends had called to me as we all stumbled during the quaking.

Four black horses leapt up from the earth, struggling for a foothold on the broken sod, as they pulled forth Hades’ golden chariot. I was awestruck by the spectacle. I remember suddenly feeling a strong arm around my waist, lifting me into the carriage. I had but a moment to reach my arms to the sky and call out, “Helios, tell my mother Demeter to save me!” As quickly as the chariot had appeared on earth, we were immediately submerged into the ground. And into the darkness. Into Hell.

I now fidget to move my body. Have I been living in this obscure confinement for days? Maybe weeks? I do not know because time has no meaning here. I feel the worms fighting to weave themselves around the dried flowers that have been matted into my hair. Grime has worked its way into my skin, and my pores tingle with creeping filth. The air is musty and sour. I can barely keep my eyes open. My eyelashes are withered by salt; I have no more tears since the water in my body has long been exhausted.

My mind tells me to run, but I do not have the strength. Where would I go? Cross the River Styx with Charon? The dog Cerberus guards the gates with his three-heads ready to devour trespassers. I feel rooted to this dirty corner in the earth’s dungeon. I sit on the cold clay floor of the entrance hall with my knees tucked under my chin, tugging my dress around me for warmth. I know fires blaze in the other rooms; he has used them to entice me to join him in the halls of his subterranean palace. I see candles twinkling, but I would rather sit in this bleak foyer—neither inside nor outside—than follow him into his palace.

They say one can freely return from Hades if nothing is consumed, otherwise they will be part of this Underworld forever. Trays of food have appeared only to have servants take them away untouched. I refuse to eat. My body is weak and fatigued.

“Taste one. You are my guest and my love,” says the voice.

I raise my head and squint my eyes. The only light in the gloomy room comes from the stunted wax candles, casting long shadows against the stone walls. He is here again. He has slithered closer because I sense his heat upon my neck, yet I also glimpse his shadow move by the doorway. My heart quickens. He constantly visits me.

The candles flicker as the flames suck on the last bit of wax. One more candle is extinguished, and I sense the shadow coming closer.

Love. How dare he use that word. He abducted me. The word is forever soiled by his breath. I hear him step forward and can barely glance at him.

His presence is large and strong. It is as if I am in an eddy with his force swirling about me. I sway to the pull, but I cannot look at his face. I stare at a spot in front of me. He is holding something in his outstretched hands. A red fruit seizes my gaze.

“This is for you. Take it,” he says as he offers the pomegranate so generously.

A power unseen lifts me on my knees and my hands pluck the pomegranate from his hands. I rub the round firm husk and take a deep breath. I inhale the freshness of the world I left behind, the figs and oranges on the trees kissed by sunshine. The clean citrus air churns through my senses. I cannot get enough of this scent! It fills my blood. My skin tingles and tightens. My tongue comes forward, ready to lick and devour what I can.

I hear a noxious chuckle, and I remember where I am.

“No!” I shove the fruit into his hands. In an instant, my body misses its sweet essence. I collapse to the floor again.

I tilt my head slightly to see him toss the pomegranate into the air—swiftly catching into his palm and releasing it back into the air.

“You keep saying no, but you will acquiesce to me one day.” He stops and I watch his sinewy, muscular fingers break the fruit. These hands hold the Underworld. They decide who enters and how they shall be treated, fulfilling the path the Fates had designed. Only the Gods have such fingers. My Adonis, though he is a mortal, has slender fingers. I asked him once if his graceful hands were marble or flesh. My fingers ache to hold those exquisite hands again and feel the protection they once offered.

Now, Hades shows me the split half of the pomegranate—it beckons me with a crimson smile. My lips are parched, and my throat yearns for the juices bursting from the shell. Oh, to sink my teeth into the fleshy seeds and drink the luscious drops of the claret.

He offers me a handful of scarlet kernels and smiles. “You have not eaten a thing, my darling. You want this. And you know it too.”

“Go away. My mother will rescue me. I do not need you!” I turn my head away to face the wall. He laughs at me and his powerful bellow echoes off the stone walls.

“Demeter does not know you are here. My brother Zeus and I decided this without her. I need a bride, after all. I saw you and I fell in love.” He leans towards me, and I could feel his heated breath radiate in the air. “Your long auburn hair fluttering in the wind, your skin… glowing with youthful blush. Your body… your body is so willowy and lissome. How lovely it will be to have your beauty grace my home.” His broad finger grazes upon my cheek and I feel a surge of energy on my skin.

“Zeus? My father? This was planned?” I ask. No one told me this. How dare these Olympian gods do this to me? Do they stop at nothing?

“I had no choice but to snatch you. Your mother is so attached to you and would not have agreed to let you go. Therefore, we had to devise this plan. My darling girl, I will not leave you like this.” He gestures around the dank room. “Once you are my bride, you and I will rule the Underworld together. You will be an immortal. I will give you whatever your heart desires, from any world!” He leans in closer to me, his breath with the essence of smoke. “Have you had enough of this oubliette? Will you agree to stay with me?”

I gaze into his eyes and see blackness. I close my eyes and fiercely evoke memories to take me away from this moment. I remember the lush green meadows of my home and the sapphire blue seas that ripple like silk when the sunlight dances upon them. My mother, whose skin smells of spring blossoms and olive leaves. The last day I saw Adonis.

“You will be my Queen...the mortals will be falling to their knees when you appear. You shall command anything you wish. Why be nothing above when you can be supreme here?”

“I wish to leave, my Lord,” I say quietly, with my eyes still closed.

“I would rather you not,” he says. I hear his footsteps walking away from me. The last candlelight is out, and I collapse onto the damp floor.

⧫⧫⧫

Adonis kneels before me, glowing in his white summer robes. His beauty shimmers. His long blond tresses fall into his eyes, and I reach to touch them. His bronze skin glows from inside, and I long to caress his face. My lips crave to touch that spot on the side of his throat, under his jawline.

“Adonis, you’ve come to me!” I clutch his hand and can feel it is more than a vision. Warm fingers trace my face, and slowly into my mouth.

Adonis, upon your fingers, my dry lips find droplets of moisture. You guide the pure liquid into my mouth, and I lick my lips and discover an unquenchable thirst.

You follow my lips with a plump seed. The precious juice spurs my mouth to open for more. The fragrance of the capsule overwhelms me. How I remember thee well! I devour the kernel. The seed bursts, filling me with sensations of intoxication. A waft of citrus sweeps into my lungs.

Your touch on my lips is tender and subtly encourages a new seed. With delight I welcome another seed and lap the liquid trickling down the fingers bestowing it. This one has an ambrosial and familiar sweetness that reminds me of my childhood.

Like a bird, I sense another one is coming forward; I snatch the seed in your palm and kiss the pool of juice. I dive in deeper and lick your palm like a thirsty kitten. Will there be more? I widen my mouth in anticipation, allowing my tongue to come forward to accept another drop. A sumptuous coolness slides down my throat.

“Adonis, more?” I ask breathlessly. A kernel dances upon my lips but dares not fall into my ready mouth. Ah, you tease me. My senses follow its perfume to your lips, where the seed rests. I slowly trace those beautiful lips with my mouth. Like a thief seizing a ruby, I leave nary a trace as I savor my bounty.

“What? Is there another jewel upon the pillow of your lips, Adonis?” I lean forward as his lips thrust a seed upon me. I laugh in delight.

Suddenly, my glorious Adonis is gone. Instead, I recognize the dusky shadow of Hades. The Lord of Darkness, Desolation, and Death. This was an illusion.

“No!” I spit the seeds from my mouth and wipe my face. The fruit is still in his hand, and I grab it. I throw it against the wall and watch the red liquid leave a stain like blood.

He laughs at me. He leans in close to me and in his eyes, I spot my own face within this wretched realm as his bride. He vanishes as stealthily as he had entered. His parting words ring in the air, “You are mine now. You have accepted my seeds.”

I draw my breath, weighted by the pits. I plunge my fingers down my throat, begging my body to thrust them out. Instead, it only gives hoarse coughs and empty heaves. My depraved body has already absorbed the evil.

I crouch, encircling my arms around myself, transforming into a ball to roll away. My fingers upon my flesh, I suddenly feel my skin. Upon it, is my shame. I claw my skin to remove it until I am streaked with bloody scratches. What have I done? Why did I offer my hand to temptation and ask to be led, to be outcast? Is this my fate to accept?

I inhale deeply, gathering every bit of wicked pain and yearning in my lungs that I can clutch. I release a primal, guttural howl that ricochets against the walls of this hell, hoping someone above will hear me. Then there’s silence. A silence so profound I hear the pounding of my heart and the blood that swooshes through it.

What if I keep this private? No one shall know. What are a handful of seeds anyway? I shall pretend this never happened. I will be saved. Or am I truly doomed?

But what if I do stay? He claims to be in love with me. He would let me have my way. I would master my own life in the underworld. The Queen. Mother, my dear Mother. How I miss her. Why is she not here? The tartness lingers on my tongue and my breath carries the tang and bitter traces of my deed.

“My lady?” says a small voice.

I raise my eyes to see one of the servants. She is a slim short woman with black hair pulled back, clad in black robe tied with a red rope. Her face is blank of emotion. She kneels and stares at the floor in deference to her status.

“Master has asked me to lead you to your chambers,” she announces loudly.

I lift my torso from the floor slowly to face her.

The woman quickly glances over her shoulder and leans in close to me. “My lady, perhaps you would like to see this,” she whispers. From the folds of her robe, she pulls out a shard of glass about the size of a man’s palm. “Look.”

I squint my eyes in the dimness to see. In this glass, I see my mother. I let out a soft cry of surprise. She hushes me.

The bewitched glass shows my mother searching all over the world—far and wide, high and low. I see her talking to Helios, and how she screams in fury. I see her talking to Zeus and her face is wrought with horror. Her anger makes the gods shudder. I see the leaves from the trees wither and fall as she walks by.

“You will be Queen of the Underworld forever. The earth will mourn for you,” says the servant. I see more images in the glass. I see my own future. My light hair will turn darker and my cheekbones, so sharp they could cut a hand. My skin emits a gray glow, and my demeanor reads somber and morbid. No longer Kore, the sun-kissed golden maiden. I am Persephone, the Bringer of Death, the Goddess of the Underworld. Alongside Hades, I will usher the dead into the desolate valleys and the heroes into the Elysian Fields.

I shake my head in confusion. This is a fate unexpected. What can I do? I touch the cold stone wall behind me to boost myself to my feet. The woman tries to hold my elbow, but I wave her away. I take a deep breath and stand upright. I hold the wall and take a step. My foot awakens with sharp pins and each step shoots needles up my leg. I rub my thighs, warming my legs to continue the journey.

“Leave that glass…” I say to the servant. She has disappeared, but the glass remains on the floor. I glance around the foyer and the candles are suddenly lit. The room is so aglow with brightness that my eyes hurt to open fully. I squint to see a figure in front.

Hades is standing in his full Olympian god form within an iridescent halo of light. The white folds of his robes glisten under a heavy velvet black cloak. A silver crown circles his head and compresses his long chestnut hair. His square face appears to be sculpted—his jawline square and his lips are full under his fleecy, bronze beard.

I am nervous to see him, but this time it is different. I feel more fire inside of me. He holds forth to me a small silver diadem, much like his but sparkling with black diamonds, emeralds, and sanguine-red rubies.

“I first admired you for your beauty, but I now see your strength and determination. You are not an ordinary girl, Kore. I see how you complement my temperament and will match my resolution. I ask you once again, will you rule with me? Be Persephone. Be an immortal.”

“My Lord, I will accept my fate to be forever tied to the Underworld because I consumed the kernels of the fruit. However, I have a proposal for you, one that is fair and just.”

Hades raises his eyebrows, surprised any mortal would challenge him.

“I agree that I ate six seeds. However, I was under a spell, a bewilderment. I did not do this in full consciousness, the consciousness that I have now as I speak to you. Therefore, this was not done fairly, and I should not be held for submitting under an enchantment,” I thrust my chin forward to give myself more largess. I see him wince.

“It is my world, my rules,” he declares with a grin. I take a deep breath as I continue.

“My Lord, why should I be punished so harshly for six seeds? To be wrenched from my life above ground for eternity as a punishment? I did not consume the whole fruit. I did not consume six pieces of fruit or six types of fruit. It was a few seeds. Had a bird eaten those six seeds, she would have stayed famished.” I see his face remain unchanged.

“I imagine the fruit might have had more than 300 seeds. Do you agree?” I ask, and he shows no acknowledgement. I take a deep breath before speaking. “Therefore, my proposal is that I only stay here for a few days. For six days a year, I will stay in the Underworld and for the rest of the year, I will be returned to the land of the living.” I look into his eyes and hold his gaze, though my body is trembling.

Hades laughs, and the sound resonates off the walls. “I cannot believe a mortal is telling me what to do. You know my rules. Any food consumed will tie you to the Underworld. Come now. ” He turns away from me, expecting me to follow. In desperation, I plead my final argument.

“Wait! The bewitched glass,” I say, pointing to the floor. “Do you not see what is happening to the earth? Demeter is in mourning. As she grieves, the trees are losing their leaves, plants are withering. The bees will not create honey without the flowers. The fields will wilt, and animals will die. Humans will suffer and die by the hundreds from starvation.”

Hades strokes his beard. “Tell me.”

“The more people die, the more overwhelmed the Underworld will become with dead souls. It will be too much,” I say, holding his attention.

“What you say is true. The balance of life and death will be lost.” He pauses. “I will consult with Zeus and see what can be done to appease Demeter.”

“To appease Demeter? You do not need to ask Zeus. You are Hades, you have power, and you know the answer. It is simple—return me! Take me to my mother! Afterwards, I will return for six days to accept the crown as Persephone.”

“Six days is not enough. I will need you for six months.” My heart feels like a weight was thrust upon it and a bubble is trapped in my throat, unable to talk or breathe. I frantically try to think of other reasons. I exhale a deep breath, reminding myself that moments ago I was doomed to an eternity in the Underworld with no hope of returning home. Somehow, a compromise has been achieved. This is not the end I foresaw.

“I will take you back to Demeter and Zeus now. This is not my preference. This is not my optimal situation. However, I make this decision to maintain the stability between the worlds. It is my duty as an Olympian,” Hades declares.

A glimmer of the candlelight reflecting on the magical glass catches my eye. I move swiftly to pick it up and I inspect it. I see my mother and I united in an orchard full of fruit and blossoms and a community of light. Where we walk, flora arises in our footsteps. Humans and animals thrive and flourish.

My heart quickens to know I can return home. If I am obliged to be here half of the year, I will need to divide myself into Light and Dark. Earth and Sky. Death and Birth.

Roots and Leaves of the same tree. I, as the one with the seeds, must cede.

He comes forward to take my hand to lead me from the dungeonous caverns. My spirit feels rejuvenated as I take my first steps out of this netherworld towards the light.

---

Ashini J. Desai balances creative writing with a family and a technology career, given a BA in English and MS in Information Science. While she does not write for a living, she writes to live, especially coming from a family of writers and readers. Her work is published in Dandelion Revolution Press’s anthologies, Not Quite As You Were Told, The Secrets We Keep and Every Breath Alight. Her poems have been published in anthologies Cities, Overplay/Underdone, as well as various literary journals. Her selected poems are found on AshiniPoetryBlogspot.com and on Instagram as @AshiniWrites.

Artwork by George Henry Hall.

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