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I hear Ari sigh loudly as she watches my work in the garden. “The court was bound to her and she was tied to the land. Each spring she sat on the throne to renew the connection to this world.”
“But why would Apollo need maidens to sit on the throne?” I asked. Exhaustion leaking into my tone. “Why didn’t they bring Persephone back? Track her down and drag her back.”
That seems like the only logical option.
Arista sits silently. Contemplating her next words carefully, “They did.”
Her fingertips were vaguely see through.
Intently, I watch her. look at her. My hands each holding a weed each.
And I can see through her, “Arista… Are you a shade?”
“Passing through the River Lethe is a fickle thing,” she adds, lost in thought. “Even those who have died don’t come out the same.”
What’s she talking about? Why is she acting so odd right now?
It's like she’s speaking in riddles.
“Everyone who crosses the river has already died before they touch those dark waters,” I remind her. Still holding those weeds. “I was dead,” I state as my eyes brimmed with tears. “Hades gave me a second chance. No, I'm not the same person as the one who entered the river, but I made it. I have a good life. How could I complain?”
Everyone, both here and in the mortal lands, sees Hades as this malevolent figure. Cold, harsh and uncaring. One to be feared. But I feel grateful to him.
Indebted even.
Have I always had good feelings about him, well no. But now I get it. He gave me a chance to live once more. Make a life that I'm proud to have lived.
Back in the village even, life was not terrible. I had Agatha, Celeste, and a blossoming career. Freedom to enter the woods when and where I pleased. That’s where I had Dad. Life wasn’t easy. It was constant work. Constant effort to make sure our family was going to be okay.
Here, I don’t have to worry about where my next meal will be coming from. Here it feels like I have a chance to find out who I'm while living comfortably. I may even be head over heels for someone that I would never have met otherwise.
“What if you weren’t dead when you passed through those black waters,” she countered, pulling me back to our conversation.
“That’s impossible,” I whisper. “And you know it.”
Mortals can only be reborn when they’ve died. Once they stand before Hades, only he decides their fate. Someone who is alive, doesn’t stand before Hades and is offered the river.
Arista crosses her arms across her chest. “And being reborn through the River Lethe isn’t?”
“Well, I suppose you've got a point there.” I don’t have memories from the river. Well not exactly. They feel like my visions. When I'm looking through someone else’s eyes. When I was younger, I would have nightmares. Vivid ones. Where I would wake up drenched. Choking on water. Seconds away from throwing up if dad hadn’t gotten to me so quickly.
My hands feel clammy at the thought of those waters.
The feeling of being drug down into the dark deep depths.
Being thrown around in a current.
Staring upwards in those unrevealing black inky waters. Fingernails breaking as I scraped them along the smooth rocks. Clawing for my way out. Scrambling for any hand hold to push me out. Any traction to save me from this.
Water pressing against my chest. Smothering my mouth. Forcing its way into my lungs.
My head thumping against a rock, I float prone in the water. Neither sinking or rising. Water rushes into my lungs.
Long red locks floating around me.
Red locks.
“Arista… who are you?” Staring at my friend, I lose my grip on the weeds. Which fall limply to the ground.
