Demeter stood in the center of the massive courtroom, surrounded by tiered seating and a duo from every pantheon. She cast her fiery gaze to the ceiling, and defiant tears streamed down her cheeks. Heavy manacles that were secured to the ground covered her wrists. Demeter faced punishment for attempting to kill Hades and endangering Hypnos.   

Persephone sat among the assembly on the upper levels, waiting for the hearing to begin. She hadn’t spoken with her mother since the day they’d taken her. Neither Hades nor Hypnos had come to her. Their absence hurt, and she was unaware of when their presence had become a solace rather than a burden. Two decades and near-death experiences changed a lot of things.    

Fingers intertwined with her own, and she turned to find Hestia beside her. Warmth seeped from her aunt and tempered the blooms of dark red roses that threatened to smother Persephone.    

“Have faith, dearest,” Hestia whispered, squeezing her palm.    

Chatter rumbled throughout the crowd until Zeus and Hera arrived. Silence descended as the couple took their seats at the front. A wave of electricity coursed from Zeus as he glanced around the room. When he spotted Hades, his expression turned dangerous. Hades quirked a groomed eyebrow, and a triumphant smirk tilted his lips.     

Persephone inhaled sharply at that look. She hadn’t known the accusing god. Until now. That explained why Hades had avoided her. She would have begged him to forgive her mother, and he couldn’t. The accusations were too serious.    

“Demeter, you stand before this Council, accused of attempted murder and reckless endangerment,” Zeus’s voice boomed. The air charged as his might ran rampant again. An uncomfortable sensation vibrated through her bones.    

“Do you care to defend yourself?” Hera asked. She touched her husband’s biceps, and his outburst simmered. The audience exhaled in unison as the current dissipated.     

“No,” Demeter said, and she spat in Hades’ direction. Red petunias and black henbane exploded throughout her hair. She bore so much hatred. “My only regret is that he’s not dead.”      

***     

Twenty Years Ago, Before Using Slumber Sand   

Demeter watched as the portal pulled Persephone through. Hollowness filled her chest as her reason for living disappeared. The reek of the River Styx oozed through, and her disdain intensified. She was determined to free her daughter.     

Gathering her skirts, she headed back to the cottage. Loneliness encroached on her from all corners, but there was bread that she needed to bake. Distraction offered her comfort, preventing a breakdown after years apart from Persephone.  

A loud pop startled her as she stepped into the kitchen, and a crimson envelope fluttered to the counter. Gold ink spelled her name in harsh lettering. A boar’s head, bisected by a spear, adorned the rear seal. Greek meander circled the outer edge.     

“Dearest Aunt Demeter,” she read aloud. “I request an audience with you within the week. I can help with Persephone. Apply a drop of your ichor to this paper, and my servant shall collect you. Mention this to no one. In a day’s time, this letter is to erupt into flame, and my offer expires.”    

The signature at the bottom was a jumbled mess.      

Curiosity had her pricking her finger with the tip of a steak knife. The moment her blood marked the parchment, an unknown goddess burst forth. Her dark features stood out starkly against her pallid skin. Ebony irises sparked with an intensity that curdled Demeter’s stomach.     

“Come, come,” the woman squealed. She clapped ink-stained hands and bounced around like a child. “Master will be so happy! Eris can show you!”     

A portal formed from the lettering, and it sucked them through. This magic was different. Corrupted and wrong. It made her skin itch as if insects covered her. It begged to devour her whole.    

Demeter stumbled on the other side as the smell of rot permeated her senses. The mysterious woman floated along, leading her up a darkened corridor. The pulse of death pressed harder as they entered a scarcely lit dungeon. Once inside, the Eris faded into the shadows. Her manic laughter lingered as Demeter’s attention shifted to the back of the room.    

A god, whose name choked her when she tried to say it, sat atop a throne made of sinew and bone. Skeletal remains littered the dais. Some remained fresh, while time had marred the rest.     

“You’re supposed to be dead,” she stammered.     

“Yes, but it didn’t suit me.” His timbre was deep, reverberating through her veins. “I am ecstatic that you accepted my offer.”     

“I haven’t accepted, but I was curious,” she corrected, and held up a manicured hand. “Explain before I blindly follow you.”     

The laugh that came from him chilled her. It chorused with the voices of the tortured.  

“I own you.” Each enunciated word was a nail that hammered into her flesh. Bright flares of pain blurred her vision, and pinpricks of blood bloomed over her heart. His sadistic stare locked onto her when she stumbled from the onslaught. “The moment you bled for me, you became mine.”   

A chilling dread washed over her, and the warmth drained from her body. His presence pulsed in her chest, most noticeably from where she still oozed crimson across her white chiton.    

“No,” she squeaked breathlessly.     

“Worry not.” He waved her panic aside with a cruel smile. “I intend to help you with Persephone. That’s what you were hoping for, correct?”     

She nodded, too numb to speak.     

“You’re stunning when scared.” He crooked his finger, pulling her towards him. There was no fighting it, not when his authority had seeped into her essence. “Be an obedient pet. Then, I’ll free little Sephy from her imprisonment. Understand?”   

He forced her to her knees before him with that grotesque power. “I do.”    

“Master,” he snapped. “You are to address me as Master.”     

She swallowed the lump in her throat as tears flowed freely. “Yes, Master.”     

“Good.”    

The following morning, Demeter ghosted into Persephone’s chambers in the Underworld. Eris gave her a potion that made her invisible. Her soul’s signature was similar enough to her daughter’s that her intrusion should go unnoticed.    

She watched as Persephone threw a vase across her bedroom. The porcelain shattered as it hit the ground. Her lips curled in satisfaction when Persephone collected the Slumber Sand several minutes later. Master had known everything, down to the smallest details.    

Once Persephone slept, Demeter snuck the vial into her satchel and stroked a gentle hand down her sleeping cheek. She tapped the Greek meander bracelet that Master had given her, and it teleported her out of the Underworld.    

When she completed her first mission, he praised her for her success. Painfully. The sting of his teeth and roughened calluses against her skin left her wilting like a defiled garden. He relished her screams as her flesh tore, and her heart shattered.     

The memory replayed each time she thought about defying him, reminding her why she had accepted his invitation. She would see this to the end. For Persephone. Because she had nothing else.  

“One dose of the potion remains. Use it before you enter Slumber. Hypnos will be distracted,” Master paused and wagged his eyebrows. Demeter scrunched her nose in distaste. “When Hades exits the dreamscape, poison him before he notices you.”     

“Yes, Master.”     

He yanked her hair, and his breath skittered down her neck. “Should he notice you, I do not intend to protect you.”    

“I understand!” Her eyes stung as she fought the need to escape. He released her so suddenly that she hit the floor. She refused to cry anymore because he enjoyed it.    

All of it had gone according to plan. Until Hades stumbled out of Hypnos’ dreamscape. As the Slumber Sand drifted over him, he looked at her, sealing her fate. Destiny always intended for him to see her. Master planned it before he even approached her. She understood that now.    

***     

Demeter didn’t tell the Council any of this; she couldn’t. The Master ordered her to be silent, and she could not disobey. His control over her was bone deep because she had been naive. That single drop of ichor had chained her to him. She was going to lose everything to keep him safe behind his anonymity.    

She refused to be punished with her head down. Despite being controlled, she had no regrets. No matter what punishment Demeter was given, they would have to adjust the terms of Persephone’s curse. She was the easiest replacement. Their magic was similar. The same with their temperament.   

Zeus was talking, voice so loud it rattled her eardrums. She’d lost track of how long he’d been rambling. Her refusal to speak had driven him to anger, and she zoned out. The chains at her wrists prevented her from strangling Hades with vines. Her last attempt at revenge would never happen.     

“… Stasis,” Hera was saying, and Demeter’s attention snapped to her.     

“Excuse me?” she asked, throat ragged from disuse.     

“Ah, you finally joined us?” Zeus sneered. He held little of his abilities in check on a good day. He was on the verge of complete disaster. White lines of electricity rippled through the crowd, keeping the tension high.     

“You have ironclad evidence of my involvement. What more could you want?” She lazily swung her gaze to her brother and noted how his face twitched. “Sentence me and be done.”     

“Sister,” Hera pleaded. Her knuckles blanched from how tightly she gripped the railing that separated them. “Do you not wish to defend yourself?”    

“You,” she sneered at Zeus, “allowed the Fates to uphold the curse placed on my daughter. You then pretended my decline did not stem from her absence. Each plea was met with deaf ears and blind eyes. There is nothing more to explain.”    

She hadn’t wanted to see the look of horror on her daughter’s face and had ignored her since she had entered. Their gazes locked, and Demeter recoiled. Bloodied roses and black dahlias ringed her crown, a bouquet of deepest anger and betrayal. Her sunset-colored irises blazed with uncontained rage. Towards Demeter. Not Zeus or Hades. Her daughter was furious with her.    

With sudden clarity, Demeter realized her actions had been for her, not for Persephone. For so long, she had hated the man who stole her child. Had loathed the brother who did nothing to save her. Persephone’s thoughts remained unasked. She always told Persephone how she should feel.    

Unable to bear the weight of her guilt, she looked away.     

“If you are so unwilling to justify yourself, I shall dole out the heaviest sentence,” Zeus said, once again interrupting her wandering mind. “You are to be sentenced to half a millennium of stasis.”    

There was stunned silence as the bells of the final verdict rang through the space. For every 100 years she received, another strike sounded. They echoed through her until her legs wobbled and her heart hammered. Strong, abrasive hands kept her from falling as her shackles detached from the floor.  

Editor: Lucy Cafiero