Erysichthon stood, towering over the man. “Charon. You whine and complain and belittle too much of late, Panoptes.”
Panoptes did not look at him.
“I never promised this would be an easy fight,” his words were low. “What else would you do?”
“Watch my boy,” Panoptes said, glancing at him now. “See him grow.”
Erysichthon felt a moment’s pain at the words. He did not think of Ione often, he saw no point in it. But when he did, he felt the pull of loss. He knew there was no hope for a reunion, not while she still lived. And knowing that, he had no desire for a reunion any time soon.
But Persephone… she’d lived long in the Underworld. She would do so again.
He reached for Panoptes, to clap him heartily upon the back and rally his spirit. But his hands were too insubstantial to do so. His form passed through Panoptes, and unsettled all who saw it. For none of them had made peace with their state. It was why they kept fighting. They hoped, somehow, to change it.
“Go then,” Erysichthon urged. “Watch them. They cannot see you in the sunlight. But know that while you are stuck, they move on. What will you do when you visit them and find a man in your bed? When your wife finds your children a new father, will seeing them still bring you comfort? I warn you now, prepare yourself for such things. It is the way of the living, to move on and forget.”
“I would see them happy,” Panoptes murmured, his voice anguished.
“Would you?” Erysichthon asked. “Then go now. Your visits will end when we cross over. So go now, and savor what time you have left.”
Panoptes hesitated, then set off at a fair pace toward what had once been his home. Erysichthon watched him, and seven others like him, vanish under the sun – chasing a life that was no longer theirs.
He felt that familiar ache, the faint twinge of longing for Ione, but shrugged it aside. They’d a new path before them. Panoptes and the others would come back. And they would fight. There was no other choice. Erysichthon would make certain of that.
Chapter Nineteen
“What do you think?” Demeter stood back, tilting her head this way and that as she regarded the bountiful arrangement of flowers.
Persephone stood beside her. She tried to smile. She did try. “They’re lovely, Mother.”
Demeter sighed. “They are. Yet you are not pleased.”
“I am,” she hastened to assure her mother.
“They’re flowers,” Athena said with a shake of her head. “Nice, certainly. But flowers nonetheless. Would such sights normally send her into raptures?”
“Stop being churlish,” Hera snapped. “We all know you’d rather be off chasing ghosts…”
Demeter clicked her tongue.
“Sorry.” Hera looked truly remorseful as she smiled at Persephone. “I meant no offense.”
Persephone smiled back. “No, no, of course not.” She walked slowly, moving around the massive vase of flowers. It was a small distance, but she savored it.
“I’m more capable than Hermes,” Athena complained.
“At fighting perhaps,” Hera said.
The women laughed, making her loneliness complete. She did not share in their banter. She felt no camaraderie amongst these women, no comfort in their discourse. And yet, they seemed determined to keep her close.
She could not leave Olympus, not while Erysichthon was still free. But she’d been denied the right to walk the mountain top, to explore the nearby valley or Olympus’ vineyards. Demeter was near crippled with the fear of losing her again.
“You’re heartsick.” Aphrodite came round the other side of the arrangement, trailing her fingers along the rim of the vase. She smiled slightly, her blue eyes full of sympathy.
She should deny it.
“Being away from home for so long, perhaps?” Aphrodite stroked the petal of one blossom between her fingers. “You miss your plants and the earth beneath your touch?”
Persephone opened her mouth, but could find no answer.