For who could ever learn to love The One who doesn't know love?
By Asso
Chapter Fifteen
The shore of the afterlife
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
It had been another race. A different race.
Fast, frantic, yes. Like the first one.
But, somehow - in some strange way - quieter.
And intoxicating.
Hades had shaken the reins.
Slightly.
Calmly.
And the black steeds had come back to life.
They had neighed. But not strongly. They had neighed softly. As if they were aware of the uniqueness of what was happening, of the fact that for the first and certainly only time they were going to carry "beyond" someone else besides their master.
Someone who, perhaps, would have been at the side of their master.
As mistress of their master.
Then they had reared up.
And then had sprung.
Powerfully.
Forwards and upwards.
She had clung to him.
Yes. She had clung to him.
Without even thinking about what she was doing.
Or perhaps, imbued with this thought.
She had clung to him because she could not do anything else.
Or, perhaps, because she wanted to do it.
She had chased away that thought.
But in any case...
In any case she had clung to him.
To Hades.
With her heart in her throat.
And with her eyes well open.
Wide open, this time.
To see.
To...
To savour.
The steeds had gone up.
They had gone up...
Had gone up...
High up, higher and higher.
An ascent that had taken her breath away.
And then, finally, as if they had reached the summit of a hallucinating parabola...
They had dived down.
Like bolts of lightning.
In that nothingness.
The rushing wind of the sudden plunge had lashed her face.
Had made flutter her hair and her dress.
Had boxed her breath down into her throat.
She had clung even more to him.
And his hand...
His arm...
Strong, powerful...
They had held her tightly.
Protective.
In his firm grip, Persephone had enveloped herself.
While the chariot rushed down.
More and more down.
Dragged by the unchained steeds.
Down.
In the nothingness that never seemed to end.
And which, instead, had suddenly come to the end.
She had widened her eyes.
In wonder.
In amazement.
In the desire to see.
What only she could see.
Only she.
Besides him.
See and...
And enjoy.
Strange, absurd, in truth...
But yet...
Yet Persephone had felt this idea vivid in her; this crazy thought.
Other Gods had seen what she was seeing; other Gods besides him. Beside her.
But she could see his kingdom with eyes different from those of the other Gods.
She could see it...
With his eyes!
And she had seen as they were coming down...
Immense spaces.
Immense vaults.
Of rock.
Vivid.
Brilliant.
Shining with myriads of luminous points that shone in the darkness.
There was frost.
Yes. There was frost.
There was...
There was the frost of death!
But there was also...
There was also...
What was it?
Like something... of sacred.
Of the sacredness of eternity.
More sacred, more eternal than... than the heavenly abode of the supernal Gods.
Than the ethereal palace itself of her father.
Of Zeus.
It was as if the air, that strange and motionless air, resounded with something that was - could be - only there.
Something mighty, mightier than anything else.
And Persephone - confusedly, nebulously - had understood.
There, there was the end of everything.
There, there was the end.
The end forever.
It was the realm of the end of everything.
And how could it not be cold, that kingdom - his kingdom? The kingdom that sanctioned the end?
The end of everything?
Of what had been.
And of what could have been.
And of what would never be again.
There could not be frost there.
And yet...
Yet there was greatness.
A greatness... a greatness suffused with hope.
A strange, absurd hope.
A wish.
Melancholic.
Yet vivid. Mighty.
Tenacious.
Of a possible new beginning.
A desire of life!
Persephone had perceived that greatness.
She had breathed it.
A greatness that inspired awe.
The greatness of eternity.
It was possible to breath that eternity.
It was possible to feel it all around.
It penetrated your bones.
Unto the deepest and more secret corner of your soul.
And Persephone had thrust open her mind, besides her eyes.
And her mind...
Her mind... her spirit...
They had wondered...
Even in the tumult in which she had felt, they had found themselves wondering...
How could he... how could Hades... stay there?
How could he... how had he been able, for all those aeons, to rule that kingdom made of icy eternity? Of an eternity too great for one to bear? And how could he think of continuing to do it?
What sort... what sort of immense God was he, capable of resisting, sane, in such a place? Of governing it, even? And with lucid and firm impartiality, in addition. Because on this, no one ever - even in the most horrid things that were said of him - had put forward the slightest doubt.
Hades was the terrible, reviled Lord of Death.
But he was a just Lord.
Inflexible, but just.
Only... only a greater, more powerful God, in some inconceivable way, than any other God, could be what Hades was!
And Persephone had felt herself flare up at that sudden, unexpected thought.
Which had bloomed fiery inside her - uncontrollable - in the impetuous descent of the chariot to the depths of his kingdom.
And even more she had felt herself flare up and had felt bewilderment within herself, when at that thought, another - rapid and strong - had been following.
And... and that God - immense and mighty more than any other God, perhaps... perhaps even more than her father, than Zeus! - ... that God... wanted her!
He wanted her to break the chill of his kingdom. Of that suffocating eternity.
The chill of his alienating solitude.
Persephone had felt a feeling rise within her.
A feeling...
Pride!
But how could it be?
Yet it was so!
Pride!
Pride, pride, pride!
She... she was the chosen one!
By him and by Destiny!
The one the icy, otherworldly, terrifying, remote, powerful, immense Hades had thought could be able to warm up his heart of ice!
The one whom Destiny had chosen for such a huge, terrifying task!
Persephone had felt her head spinning, in the whirlwind of those thoughts.
Absurd thoughts! Grotesque thoughts!
And yet...
Yet she had agreed to be led down.
She had... she had wanted to be carried down!
By him!
Down.
Towards...
Towards...
And Persephone had seen.
Her eyes wide open in wonder had seen.
Waters.
The infernal rivers.
And her soul had sensed - her lungs had been able to breathe - the arcane magic that rose from them.
She had held her breath, while the chariot lowered towards those waters from which perspired eternity.
She had held herself even tighter to Hades, while the chariot slowed.
While the black horses braked their impetuous gallop.
Up to a halt.
On the banks of the magical river.
The Styx.
Persephone had understood it.
Or better…
They were…
She had seen a gray boat be silhouetted on the dark waters. Lonely.
And she had seen the dark shape of the boatman.
And she had seen the vast multitude of transparent forms that thronged on the bank.
Waiting for the boat to touch the shore.
They were…
They were on the banks of the dark river that of the Styx was the herald, the river whose doleful waters were intended to throw themselves in the Styx, were destined to bestow it on its whirlwind force, to ignite its arcane magic, a magic that inspired awe and reverence even in the Gods, whose oaths on it couldn't be broken. Not even by them.
They were on the banks, crowded with shadows - silent, waiting - of the Acheron.
The border.
Between life and death.
Hades had looked at her.
Her eyes beyond life and beyond death had fixed her.
She had gazed at those eyes.
Had understood the silent question that shone through in them.
She had nodded.
Had speechlessly said yes.
Without a word, Hades had turned his gaze away.
He had fixed it forward, towards the black waters of the river.
His right arm had embraced her shoulders.
His left arm had once again shaken the reins.
The chariot had moved.
Slowly, majestically, it had begun to advance.
Towards the river.
Towards its dark, murky waters.
It had ploughed through the crowd of souls, who in mute amazement, had divided up as into two wings to give way to its slow advance.
The chariot had reached the limit where the terrain gave way to water.
It had stopped for a moment.
The boat, over there, was still.
As suspended.
Like its tenebrous conductor.
Persephone had clutched spasmodically in Hades' arm.
With a soft snap, the chariot had moved again.
It had begun to move forward again.
Like a magical feather, it had advanced on the water.
The dark hooves of the black steeds had trampled the soft waves of the river as if they were solid terrain.
And slowly, solemnly, the chariot had left the shore.
It had crossed - slowly, solemnly, marching on its waters, now absolutely firm - the tragic river.
It had reached the other shore.
The shore of the afterlife.
End of Chapter Fifteen
TBC
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Here we are.
We are on the border of the underworld.
Persephone is going to penetrate the tenebrous, unknown kingdom of the afterlife.
Hades' realm.