Ciane lay on the edge of a brook, her bare feet in the water, with her naiad sisters to one side of her and the Goddess of Spring on the other. Dressed in flowers, colored by her friend, Ciane lounged, gazing up at the blue sky and dappled clouds.
“What should I name this one?” Persephone plucked a new flower from the water’s edge. It was gray, for the goddess had yet to give it a color.
“Gerry!”
“Sisette,” another suggested.
“Phrecosse.”
Persephone placed the flower back into the soil where it took root again. “Gladiolus,” Persephone proclaimed, “for it reminds me of a sword. A beautiful weapon.”
Ciane dropped her head to the side and smiled as her friend colored the new bloom pink. Her naiad sisters giggled and awed over the new creation, which quickly sprouted up and bloomed in the grasses around them. Ciane didn’t observe the spectacle; she eyed her dear friend instead.
There was no one she loved more. They were inseparable. Demeter rarely trusted Persephone with anyone, except for the maiden nymphs and naiads who adored both goddesses in accordance with the mother goddess’s ideals. They shirked all masculine things, finding only joy in the beautiful, innocent creations of Gaia and her powerful descendants.
And Persephone gifted the world with flowers.
Oh, how Ciane adored her. Everyone adored her, how could they not?
An unusually chilly breeze fluttered the new flowers around them, and Persephone glanced up.
Ciane lifted onto her elbows. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
“The warmth fled,” Persephone murmured, gazing off into the distance where grassy meadows rolled. “But it is back now.”
“We can’t control the wind,” Ciane teased.
Persephone smiled softly Ciane’s way for a brief moment before turning her attention back to the hills beyond. “No, we can’t control that, but it is strange, is it not?”
Ciane shrugged. Persephone stood, and grasped her delicate skirts up to step over her newly created Gladiolus. The goddess walked away, as if in a trance, towards the meadows. Ciane pivoted to watch her.
No one seemed to notice but Ciane. She pulled her feet from the water, even though leaving it felt wrong, like a loss of limb, and followed her friend. Once she stepped away from the flowers, the cool breeze returned to steal the warmth from her exposed flesh. She hesitated and glanced back at her sisters, debating rejoining them in the safe water.
She turned back to Persephone to see the goddess disappear over the crest of the hill.
My goddess?Ciane’s face fell. She cocked her head, hoping Persephone would reappear. When she didn’t, Ciane picked up the skirts of her dress and went after her.
The hill wasn’t high, but the grass was long and it rubbed her soles in a way she didn’t like. Dirt clung to her skin where the water from the brook hadn’t dried, and Ciane stopped twice to wipe her feet clean. When she made it to the top, she found Persephone on the hillside beyond, kneeling in front of a narcissus flower.
One of the few blooms of Gaia her dear Goddess of Spring had not created herself. A rare bloom that didn’t belong.
The breeze returned and whipped Ciane’s skirts around her legs. It blocked out the distant sounds of laughter and play from her sisters.
“Persephone,” Ciane called, worried now. Now they had wandered too far away from the others. Demeter would punish them all if the mother goddess found out. Ciane stumbled down the hillside when Persephone didn’t answer. Her footing even more awkward and uneven going down.
Persephone leaned over the narcissus, breathed in its scent, and shut her eyes as if in a trance. She squeezed the stem with her fingers and pulled the flower from the dirt.
It wouldn’t give.
“Goddess, wait!” Ciane yelled. The sunlight overhead disappeared behind broody dark clouds, and the air turned frigid. Her dear friend was completely oblivious.
Persephone opened her eyes, frowned, and tugged the flower harder. The ground split open where the roots should’ve been.
“No!”Ciane screamed, horror filling her.
Persephone’s screams joined hers as the goddess stumbled back from the widening opening, her legs slipping over the edge. Ciane watched as Persephone crawled, trying to pull herself from the gap, turning over to her front to grab at the tall grass.
Their eyes met as Ciane let herself fall, tumbling the rest of the way down the hill. A sharp snap in her leg made her shriek, but she ignored the pain as she reached for Persephone’s outstretched hand.
