It had been a week since the letter had arrived; that was the longest amount of time the oracle would allow. After receiving the message, King Thanos had stormed back to the old woman's cave and demanded an explanation, but she offered him nothing more than the fact that Psyche would not be harmed, and that she must be taken within a week, or the consequences would be dire.
Psyche had spent the week with her family, who were supportive and ever at her side. Medea and Phedra had left their selfish jealousy behind to try and comfort their doomed sister. Psyche's mother was a mess, her usually bright, lively face had drained of its natural glow and now was gaunt and drained, large dark circles hung like shadows beneath her eyes. She had taken to wearing black, and constantly carried a tissue with her to keep her brimming tears at bay. Even Thanos, a strong man who kept his emotions within check, paced the palace without hope or purpose. It had been a quiet week for the palace, and the usual gaiety had been replaced with the sad, impending knowledge of the loss of favorite its daughter.
There was not a dry eye in the entire palace upon the morning of Psyche's departure. Only the princess seemed to keep her emotions within herself. She sat stoically at her vanity as her servants slowly readied her. As Phoebe fixed Psyche's hair, one of the tears streaming down the young woman's face plopped upon the princess' head. Phoebe gasped as she sniffed loudly. "Oh, my lady, I'm so terribly sorry, I just can't help it…" she sputtered, as she furiously wiped at her face.
Psyche gave a grim smile, shaking her head. "It's alright, Phoebe, don't worry about it." Phoebe's fingers flew back to Psyche's hair, arranging the heavy dark locks with care. At Psyche's feet sat Amaranth, her wide eyes gazing up at her mistress.
"Perhaps it is not all as bad as it seems," the young girl suggested with encouragement. Psyche's face was thoughtful as she looked down at the girl, offering her a shrug with another sad smile. Phoebe bristled, kicking a foot out toward the young servant.
"Enough with you, you're bothering the princess. Out!" she commanded, protective of the princess' emotions.
"Oh, no, she doesn't have to leave…" Psyche interjected, but by then Amaranth had already scrambled away. Phoebe heaved a sigh, turning back to her work. She wished there was something she could say to the princess to ease her nerves, or to tell her that she would miss her, but that wasn't really her style. So she put all of her effort and concentration into finishing the princess' hair.
Finally after all of the pulling and primping was done, Phoebe pinned a gauzy white veil over Psyche's black tresses, and then stood back to appraise her handiwork. "You're done, miss," she muttered, sniffling into her apron. Psyche rose and looked in the mirror, finding a strange version of herself staring back at her. She seemed the very picture of a bride, but the beautiful silken dress seemed to mock her. It flowed gorgeously over her skin and pooled at the floor, giving off a gentle sheen with every slight movement. She had lost a shocking amount of weight in the time that had passed since she saw the oracle, so where the dress should have hugged her nicely, it simply hung. Instead of looking lovely and pure as a wedding dress should, its stark whiteness seemed to resemble a burial shroud. She stared at the false bride before her, the bride whose radiance had been sapped by sadness and stress, whose face was pale and drawn, especially in contrast to the black waves that framed it. She was the exact opposite of a joyous, beautiful bride; a woman who had longed and waited patiently for the day she would marry the man she loved. She was a ghost bride.
Filia had quietly entered the room as her daughter stared at herself in the mirror. How tragically beautiful she looked, she thought ruefully. And ironically enough, it was her beauty that had caused this in the first place. Her broken heart swelled as she watched her brave little princess prepare herself for her fate. How courageous she was, to give herself like this, and without complaint or rebellion. What she would give to take this burden from her daughter. While Thanos had said the oracle had assured them Psyche wouldn't be harmed, Filia felt no comfort. Psyche turned and looked toward her mother, and Filia noted how their brilliance had dulled. She rushed to her daughter and held her tightly in her arms, willing all of the strength left within her to the girl. They embraced in silence until Thanos came to the door, his face dismal. "It is time, my dears," he murmured, taking them on either arm.
The goodbyes were short, as Psyche had wished. If she spent any more time there she would lose her resolve completely. She kissed her sisters goodbye, embracing both of them tightly before they then turned into each other's arms seeking comfort. Once she had made her farewells, she and her parents climbed onto their horses and began their long trek.
They traveled on the horses for as long as possible, but partway up the mountain it became too steep and narrow, so her father's guard took the horses back down while the family continued on foot. The birds chirped merrily and soared through the blue sky, but to Psyche their chirping only seemed like noise, rather than music as it usually did. The sunshine was bright and glaring, as if its brilliance would keep the looming clouds away, but the mountain air stopped Psyche from feeling any of its warmth, and left her with a chill. As they trudged on, she felt as though she were making her own funeral march to her grave. It was as though all feeling and emotion had fled from her, and she was a walking corpse. Just beyond her, her father stopped as they reached plateau in the winding path. The flat area was barely the size of one of their small rooms at home, and it jutted out of the mountainside to reveal a massive canyon in between the range. The drop was staggering; anyone who was unfortunate to fall would never live to tell the tale. Above them the blue sky began to darken as the clouds swallowed the sun, choking out it's bright light. In that instant the whole world turned bleak, its life had been sucked out by nothing but complete and utter grayness.
Knowing that this was where they would part, Filia began to sob. She clutched onto her daughter, her tears staining the front of her daughter's gown. Thanos' composure broke as he tightly circled the both of them with his arms, resting his cheek against his daughters as his breathing became ragged with emotion. Psyche's chin quivered as two tears streaked down her gaunt face, traitorous to her resolve, but she would let no more emotion forth. She must be strong for her parents, if she broke down then they would never leave her. She could not let her family, possibly her entire kingdom; suffer on her account.
The family embraced each other until the impending storm began to rear its ugly head. With a gentle tug, Thanos pulled them all apart. Filia kissed Psyche's face tearily, gazing into her daughter's eyes as she whispered her goodbye. Thanos took his daughter's face in his hands, kissing her forehead and stroking her cheeks. "We will see each other again," he told her, his voice rough. Psyche shook as her parents departed; her eyes trained upon them until they turned a bend.
When the rain began to fall she sank to her knees, allowing herself to break. Her tears fell in a steady stream as the rain blew in stinging sheets, and heavy sobs wrenched through her. The wind came in heavy gusts, whipping her dress around her as she stood again, squinting into the torrents. Where was this great beast? "I'M HERE!" She shouted, her hair thrashing around her in the battering wind. With one powerful gale, Psyche was bowled over the ledge, her arms flailing.
She shrieked as she fell, preparing for the rocks below with her eyes tightly shut, when suddenly she felt something catch her from beneath. Strangely, they felt like arms, strong as metal bands, and they closed around her protectively. She opened her eyes, and to her utter astonishment she found herself in the arms of a man, his face nearly transparent save for a soft shimmer that outlined his features, and they were blasting through the air on the force of the wind. As the world began to blur, she felt him lean his face down and whisper into her ear. "You're safe," he murmured, his voice like a soft breeze. The world streaming beneath her faded, and Psyche stared blankly at the strange, gossamer man until her head hung over to the side of his arm, succumbing to unconsciousness as her world went black.