Chapter 2
Persephone – for that was her name; not "Kore," or "sweetling," or "child," or any of the other ridiculous names her mother chose to bestow upon her – cursed her friend's stupidity. They had been told to "absolutely, positively stay out of Pan's Hollow," and yet Chloe did it anyway. And somehow managed to convince her to come along as well. Damn my curiosity.
Now she was surrounded by what she estimated to be around forty satyrs, all aroused and hungry for the both of them, with an injured Chloe to care for. From what she could tell, she managed to grab about ten of them with tree roots, though she knew that was not enough, and she felt her strength beginning to wane. She spotted a younger satyr – the one called Nikolas – and he grinned as he approached her. His teeth were yellow and rotted, and Persephone was sure she saw worms writhing between their spaces. Bile began to rise in her throat, but she kept it at bay. Keep calm.
"I am a daughter of the mighty goddess Demeter!" she shouted, though she cursed the tremor in her voice. "If you harm me –" Her words were cut short by a blunt hit to the back of the head, and she fell forward, her knees buckling with the weight of herself and her friend. Her head swam and colors blurred together, and she was only dimly aware that her hands were being tied together. When they pulled her up by her hair, she didn't scream – she didn't want to panic – and when they threw her against the tree and tied her there, she focused on her breathing and kept herself calm. But, when she saw Chloe, with her clothes being ripped and her body being fondled, she screamed. Loud. Damn staying calm; now was the time to panic.
"Help! Somebody help us, please!" she wailed. "Please! Somebody, anybody!" She felt something break in her face when the satyr hit her.
"Keep quiet, girl," he spat. "We don't want you screaming just yet." He hit her again, and this time Persephone tasted blood. She heard the screams from her friend as they beat her and did other things she couldn't bear to witness. She felt wetness pour down her cheeks, and she knew she was crying. And then it was her turn, and they threw her to the ground.
"Say, Nicodemus, she's crying. I don't think I like her crying. Let's fix that." Persephone's head was still spinning, and the world around her kept mixing its colors, but she knew there was knife in her face. Right in front of her eyes, as a matter of fact. Panic gripped her, and she thrashed and screamed.
"No! Please, no!" But it was too late; they had cut her, and her right eye could no longer see, and then her left as well, and she never thought that she could feel such pain. Yet, she continued to thrash, even as her gown was ripped from her; even as they beat her, and she felt her ribs break. Beneath her, the ground rumbled and moaned, and there was a jarring CRACK as the earth shook. And then suddenly, the beatings stopped, and she was gripped with an incredible cold.
She heard hushed whispers and the neighing of horses, and acrid smoke wafted to her nose, causing her to choke. Then came a clanging sound, and she thought that perhaps one of the satyrs was removing a piece of armor – a helm or a cuirass – and she shuddered.
"What are you doing to this girl?" She did not recognize that voice. She thought it soft and gentle, and so unlike the satyrs that were about to ravage her. She tilted her head to hear him better.
"Forgive us, my lord, but what concern is it of yours? The girls came into our domain; they are ours to do with as we wish." She was sure that was the old one called Nicodemus.
"Did you not hear that she is the daughter of a goddess?" She heard the satyrs begin to mutter amongst themselves.
"All the same, good lord, they came into our domain. Pan gives them to us by right."
"Then I will take them by right."
What happened next, Persephone could not say for sure. She heard screams – rough screams, from the satyrs – and she felt the ground rumble underneath her, and thought that she had been stuck in that place for an age. When the sounds stopped, it took her a moment to realize that the earth was no longer shaking; rather, it was herself. She felt cool fingers touch her face and she kicked out, hearing a grunt of surprise. Yet again she felt the fingers on her face.
"I will not harm you," the voice said. He was very close; she could feel his cool breath on her face. "Do you trust me?"
No of course not, she wanted to say. I don't even know who you are. Yet she didn't say it, instead grabbing a tight hold on him as he lifted her up. She was completely naked, she knew. She didn't care. Her modesty was not worth her life. He grunted again when she held tightly onto his neck. She wished she could see him, but she knew the wetness on her cheeks was no longer only tears.
"My friend," she croaked against his ear. "Please."
And then she fell into complete darkness.
