Demeter's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Demeter paced the golden floor of her greenhouse pavilion. The glass walls once held warm light and growing things. Now frost crept up the columns. She gripped her twin torches tight. Their flames burned steady, but no green answered them. She wanted only one thing back. She wanted her daughter out of the dark. Her pig nosed at her heel, vines drooping from his shoulders. The fruit on his back had begun to shrivel. Even he could not bloom while she mourned. Demeter knelt and pressed her forehead to his. "Find the door," she whispered. "Find where he took her." The pig snorted and trotted past the dying hedges. Demeter followed, torches raised. The grass blackened under her steps. Trees cracked and bent away as she passed. She did not slow. Every field she crossed turned to ash behind her. They walked for hours through ruined country. At last the pig stopped at the edge of a wide black water. Steam rose from its surface. Red embers floated like dying stars. The river of the dead. Her grief had burned a path all the way to its shore. Beyond the water stood a gate of bronze and obsidian. Its arch glowed dull red. The doors were shut. No road led to them. No bridge crossed the black river. Demeter lifted her torches high. The light reached the gate but found no handle, no seam, no way through. She sank to her knees in the cold mud. The hidden path was not hidden anymore. It was simply closed to her. Her pig pressed against her side. Demeter stared across the burning water and made a new vow. If she could not open the gate, she would find someone who could.