Free The Dark Wife by Sarah Diemer

drawn her hair back into a twist behind her shoulders. She didn’t notice me; she was moving in gentle arcs around the room. Dancing, I realized, as I admired her careful gestures and gazed, hypnotized, at the cloud of light she held and whirled and tossed: it separated and coalesced, changing form from a hoop to an orb to a shower of light, flickering over the shadows in the darkened space. And the music—it came from everywhere and nowhere. I felt it in the floor, the walls, inside of myself.
    I drew in a quick breath—perhaps I gasped—and then there was silence, and she stood frozen, mid-turn, looking straight into my eyes, lips parted in an expression of surprise. Surprised that I was there, I assumed, spying around corners in the tilting palace of her deep, dark kingdom.
    “Hello,” I whispered, and I almost laughed, the word sounded so ordinary and out of place. My legs were shaking, but I held her stare and half-smiled. “I’ve come.”
    “So you have,” Hades replied, straightening. With a flicker of her fingers, the cloud of light winked out. She stood still for a long moment, and then, haltingly—as if uncertain—she held out her arms to me, opened them wide.
    It seemed like a dream, all of it—my descent, the horrors of the Styx, Hades’ light dance. But my heart was pounding so hard that I heard it as well as felt it, and my tunic was damp and stained, and my hair… I pressed what little remained of it against my neck, shamed suddenly to stand before the goddess of the Underworld in such disarray.
    But I could bear it no longer, and I ran across the room to her, buried my face in her shoulder. I did not sob, did not weep, though I wanted to, could feel my lingering strength pool out from the soles of my feet onto the cracked marble floor. I pressed my mouth to her neck, against the dark fabric of her garment, and I breathed her in.
    She held me, and it was not a warm embrace, but it was an embrace, nevertheless. When I loosened my grip on her, she backed away, rested her hands on my shoulders at arms’ length, and looked me over.
     “You chose this,” she said simply, and I nodded. She drew me near again, though gingerly, as if she did not know how to comfort but wished to try. My ear pillowed against her breast, I listened to her heartbeat, and its rhythm reminded me of a song I knew.
    “Hermes brought you?” she asked, arching back to catch my gaze.
     “Yes.” And then, because I needed to tell her, needed to explain: “Zeus meant to take me with him to Olympus.”
     “I see.” Shock first, and something akin to anger, stirred the flat pools of her eyes. “Well, he won’t have you now.”
     “No, he won’t.” I shivered.
     “Come with me.”
    Hades took my hand purposefully and led me down a series of long, dark hallways. I tried to remember our turnings but soon gave up, confused and lost, grateful for Hades’ sense of direction. Finally, she stopped before a doorway, and beyond the doorway, there was a small room with a smaller bed and a single oil lamp.
     “Sleep,” she said, soft and low. “You’re safe.”
    Safe.
    I closed my eyes to savor the word and cherished the sensation of Hades’ steady presence beside me. “I can scarcely believe I’m here,” I whispered. “I’m truly here, inside the earth. With you.”
     “Sleep now, Persephone,” she intoned, as if the words were a spell, and she touched my arm so gently, I felt a tear sting my eye.
     “Good night,” I whispered, and her skin left my skin, and I knew without looking that I was golden, golden all over, and then she left, every part of her: her scent, her eyes, her voice like music from another world. I lay down on the bed and stared up at the darkness.
    My head and heart were full, but my body was exhausted, and within moments, I fell fast asleep.
     
     
    Four: Underworld
     
    Persephone, Persephone--where are you ?Oh , my beloved daughter! Zeus, where could she be? Did you take her? Have you