Cyane looked back towards the calm water directly before her.
Nothing happened.
She dipped her fingers into the water. It was cold.
Still nothing.
“Well?” Hermes said from behind her. “Was it worth it?”
She pulled her hand from the water and stood, turning full circle, feeling nothing but the morning chill on her arms. “Is this where you received the belt?”
Hermes pushed off the tree. “I don’t know. The geography has changed. Last time I was here, it was more of a meadow and less of a swamp, I think? Ciane’s pond was much smaller.”
Cyane peered out over the water; it went on far past her view. It was a small pond no more.
She rubbed her arms with her hands, suddenly uncertain.
Maybe I’m wrong.This place didn’t give her any feeling at all, not like those subtle ones she experienced in the Underworld, and nothing like the deep certainty Persephone had made her feel. It didn’t compare. There was nothing but emptiness.
“Well, mortal,” Hermes came to stand next to her, walking through the brush. “I’ve done my part.”
“You have,” she whispered.
She saw him glance at her out of the corner of her eye. “You’re not going to argue with me? How surprising.” His head tilted as he visibly checked her out.
“I thought…”
“You hoped,” he corrected.
“I hoped,” she repeated. The words hurt to say. She rasped them out anyway. “I hoped I’d understand. Finally understand.”
Hermes cupped the side of her face with one hand and turned her towards him. He leaned down and pressed his mouth to hers. The kiss was soft and supple, and full of talent, as if he’d done it a thousand times, with a thousand different women, his every movement was poetry. His lips moved, his tongue dipped into her mouth to slide over her own stiff one. He tilted her head, and she let him, allowing him to deepen it.
She didn’t kiss him back.
He wasn’t Cerberus. He wasn’t her god. So, no matter how good it was, or how it felt, it only brought sorrow and numbness, and terrible longing. It did nothing but fill her thoughts with hounds, fangs, lashing tongues, and serpents.
She said a quick prayer to Cerberus in her head, begging him for forgiveness.
Hermes released her and pulled away. Their eyes met. Tears slipped down her cheeks.
“Goodbye, Cyane,” he said.
Then he vanished, as if he’d never been there at all.
Cyane fell to her knees with a cry.
Alone. Always alone. Always to lose everything she loved most. The tears fell harder, violently, uncontrollably. A pounding wave of them that wouldn’t stop. Pain filled her chest, tightening it. She dug her fingers into the grass and dirt. Her head fell upon her bent knees—the weight too much for her to stay upright. The beds of her nails filled with soil.
Wet, moist soil, that called to her. This didn’t feel like the call of the grave, but instead the call of a well-worn bed.
A feeling. Something. It was weaker than anything she’d known in the Underworld, imperceptible compared to the power of Persephone. Something felt right. Every inch she moved kindled a secret fire within her. A vague sense of belonging took her over—so different and strange—and she desperately reached out to latch on before it too could abandon her.
She found the strength to crawl to the waterline, pulling herself along until the cold waters enveloped her, easing her entrance. As she descended into the lake she perceived nothing. The water was neither warm nor cool. It felt like she was relinquishing her senses, one at a time.
The tears, so heavy now, sunk her to the bottom. As the water cradled her she felt at peace. She didn’t struggle as it filled her lungs. She curled her arms around her knees and waited as the light faded around her when a long-lost memory emerged.
Laughter,delight, and all nature’s purest and most beautiful scents and sounds assailed the air.
