Demeter

My child is acting strange.

I know it. I know it so well it’s become second nature. 

Ah, what ridiculous anxiety this is. Not long ago, I babbled that if my child returned safely, I would ask for nothing more. Later, I was nearly driven mad with the desire to hold them in my arms just once more, even if they were injured or damaged. 

And my baby returned alive without a single blemish on that pretty face and body. Anyone complaining in this situation would be so shameless that even Hera would turn away! I know this. I understand.

I recall the moment I learned that none other than Hades had been keeping my child. Only then did I understand what it means for one’s vision to turn blood-red! I was ready to leap straight down from the cloud palace of Olympus and tear the earth’s skin off. 

That was truly my only thought. If Zeus hadn’t grabbed me from behind, slipping his powerful arms under both my armpits and holding firm, the boundary between the living world and the underworld would have been ripped apart by the goddess of earth.

Hera, unable to bear the sight of me thrashing my limbs and spewing all manner of curses and insults, stepped forward.

“Calm down, Demeter! Don’t you realize how grateful you should be that your child is with Hades?”

“What? Hera, how can you say such a thing? My baby is in the depths of h*ll surrounded by corpses, without a speck of light or a breath of fresh air, and you tell me to be grateful?”

The expression on Hera’s face at that moment! 

There was no doubt why she was the queen of Olympus. Her typically cold and haughty demeanor vanished, and she growled momentarily like she was crushing a sword between her teeth, every word that came out of her mouth hitting the mark.

“Would you prefer your child to be captured by a man-eating monster, a Titan boiling with vengeance, or some deranged lecher? Is that what you’re saying, Demeter? That our blood brother Hades is more terrible than they are?”

Even in my rage-induced loss of reason, I had no response. I could feel Zeus, who was holding me from behind, exhale a sweet sigh. He had the air of someone admiring his woman, supposedly smitten at first sight. 

A philanderer who loves his wife, how ridiculous. Just like how all of us gathered here call Hades our brother while knowing she is our sister. I felt the heat in my head cool instantly.

Hera continued without hesitation.

“Hades even sent a messenger to inform us. Don’t you know her? Is she the type to boil and eat your child or t*rture them? It was an accident, and she tried to send them back earlier, but your child refused. How can you threaten Hades and the underworld? You should be resolving to slap your foolish child’s cheek and scold them. Isn’t that right? Your excessive grip on the earth has been too much already, so calm down now. The living beings on earth suffered through no fault of their own. You will have to make considerable reparations.”

I didn’t want to watch Zeus continue to flirt with his wife either. Besides, there seemed nothing more to question. They were ultimately just third parties. What would they know? Why bother analyzing it? 

They probably just want me to get my child back, clean up their temples, and ensure the humans who offer sacrifices don’t starve to death. But I couldn’t wait for Persephone so comfortably.

The waters of Lethe! The waters of oblivion!

What on earth happened that made my baby ask for that?

My heart felt like it was burning black. All the way down to my darkened temple, I staggered like a drunken woman.

‘Surely Hades didn’t lay a hand on my baby?’

No, that’s not it. I know her. She’s not a philanderer like Zeus. All the brothers are equally unable to resist playing with fire, but not the sisters. 

Hera, who protects marriage, goes without saying, and the modest Hestia vowed to remain a virgin at her quiet hearth. I too believe raising livestock is better than dealing with men. 

I believed that if I wanted a child, I just needed to select the right seed, and that’s exactly what I did. Hades…

What was she like? 

Treading on the white, cracked earth, I kept twisting my clasped hands. I heard the soil groan dryly beneath my feet. The straw-like yellow grass blades begged me for mercy, but I could think of nothing but Hades.

She was quiet. I only clearly remember her gloomy, pale face and black hair. Ah, too much time has passed since Zeus took the throne! 

Exactly as long as Hades has been in the underworld, so I can’t precisely recall what kind of deity she was or what her character was like.

Hera detested the matter of Hades. She believed Zeus had pushed a perfectly fine eldest sister into the underworld, turning her into a younger brother. But I seem to remember thinking it was quite appropriate. 

At least in my faint memory, that’s how it was. She spoke little and never belonged to the group that gathered around the hearth, chattering away. So I thought she was given a suitable role. 

Judging by the lack of conflict, Hades clearly didn’t raise many objections either. She may have been given a male name, but what’s the big deal? She gets to rule the underground kingdom, after all. 

I was preoccupied with governing the earth devastated by long wars. Since then, I haven’t thought about Hades. Reflecting on it now, it feels awkward to even call her a sister.

‘No. If she wanted a man, she would have taken one long ago. Why would she desire my child, Demeter’s offspring, now? No matter how long we’ve lived apart without communication, this child is my only one and still very young. Compared to Hades, they’re practically born yesterday, so no matter how beautiful, she wouldn’t view them as a man. Besides, didn’t she forbid underworld food to send them back to the living world? Yes, if she had done something terrible, there would be no reason to go to such trouble.’

Then what? If Hades didn’t touch my child, why would my child want the waters of oblivion? 

My heart burned. I kept running my hands through my hair like a madwoman.

My temple was filled with the corpses of humans who died begging for mercy to appease my anger. It’s sacrilegious. 

But even the priests who should move and clear the unclean bodies have long since collapsed from hunger. 

I wasn’t exactly pleased with the dilapidated state of my temple, which had always been clean and beautiful.

I stared at my statue. I saw the starving people who had reached out their final hands at the feet of the massive marble sculpture. The corpses, with only skin clinging to bone, made it impossible to guess their ages. 

Some still had breath in them. I heard my name, prayers begging for my grace, between their cracked lips. But even their blood-curdling pleas couldn’t crumble me. 

Hera ordered me to act like Demeter, to care for those who suffered needlessly. But I simply wasn’t in the mood. Until I saw, touched, kissed, and embraced my child directly, I didn’t want to save anything.

In the end, I couldn’t sleep a wink until Hermes brought my child.

Ah, but even now that my child has returned, I still lie awake through the night. I whimper like a dog trembling with anxiety, looking around the curtained quarters. 

Perhaps this is the fate of a mother, to never know satisfaction.

Hermes said my child had drunk the waters of Lethe. He even said it was he who had scooped up a cup from Lethe using Zeus’s golden goblet. So there’s no possibility they drank the wrong water by mistake. 

Originally, there shouldn’t even be water in the underworld that could transform a lovely, innocent child, sweet like a thornless rose, into a bull that suddenly raises its horns against its mother.

‘Is my child trying to rebel against me?’

Hades’s words, conveyed through Hera’s mouth, kept making me anxious. The lie that my child had thrown a tantrum and refused to return to my arms, to a home full of happiness. That lie, not even worth a snort, was stuck in my heart like a thorn in my throat. 

It can’t be. 

I believe Hades had no reason to mistreat my child, and I don’t believe my child voluntarily chose to stay in the underworld either. There were too many pieces that didn’t fit. 

I don’t think deeply about it. I didn’t have the luxury to. When my baby doesn’t smile at the sight of their mother, when they’re quiet rather than throwing tantrums, what use is it to keep the erased underworld in my mind!

‘Then, perhaps they’re pretending to have drunk the waters of oblivion when they actually didn’t?’

No. I immediately shook my head. My child wouldn’t have used deception. Yes, absolutely not. My baby would never deceive me. They’re not that kind of child. 

They don’t have the audacity to pretend to have lost their memory out of fear of being scolded by their mother. I am that child’s mother and Demeter. I can be certain of this.

Then why are these things happening?

I stretched my neck long and stared at the small room in the middle of the garden where my child slept. The curtains drawn on every window and the screen placed at the entrance made my heart sink, looking just like a sign of rejection. 

Yellow shadows flickered between the thick cloths. Were they sleeping with the lights on, or were they up to some secret mischief in there? 

Previously, I could have seen at a glance, but not now. My child is no longer a child.

‘Entering the Acherusia Cave! Knowing where it leads, why there of all places!’

Since returning after falling into Acherusia on their own, that child has been openly defiant toward me. Declaring they want to leave my embrace, to pursue foolish dreams!

Perhaps I should have taken action earlier. It’s partly my fault for being soft-hearted with a child lost and found, not being strict enough. 

After returning from the underworld, my child began to behave strangely. Rebelling against me as soon as he opened his eyes, acting like he couldn’t bear his usual life without tearing it apart.

I received daily reports that he was rude to the nymphs, indifferent to games, and wouldn’t smile at any compliment. This darling who would quickly cheer up when his appearance was praised, no matter how much he had been grumbling! 

Yet I’ve been standing by all this time. If that child pushes away my embrace once more, if he tells me he wants to be alone and asks me to leave… Ah, what mother could endure such pain!

The light in my child’s room has finally gone out. The reddish light gradually weakens, perhaps from extinguishing candles one by one. Finally, the interior becomes completely dark. 

No light escapes from the child’s bedroom. Instead, the torches illuminating the temple would flicker at the edges of the screens. Ah, if only the curtains could be removed during sleeping hours, how nice it would look! 

I want to rush in and tear everything apart. I need to stomp on it with my own two feet to feel better. Why does this child, like a daffodil, indulge so much in darkness? 

If only I could know what he’s looking at alone in that gloomy place!

I can’t watch any longer. Tomorrow, I must definitely confront him.