Lament of the Asphodels - Chapter 31: Roses for Harpocrates
Title: Roses for Harpocrates, Chapter 31 of Lament of the Asphodels
Author dracox-serdriel
Artist: LiamJcnes
Word count: 3,600
Rating/Warnings: For rating and full warning, please see the primary post.
Note: Written as part of Captain Swan Big Bang 2016.
[see Chapter Notes]
Killian and Emma stood, stunned by Hades' words and abrupt departure. They waited in his aftermath for some kind of retribution to come, too exhausted to speak or even move, until the weariness of their days finally collapsed them together. Sweet relief followed as they plied one another with kisses and light, feathering touches.
"I thought I'd lost you," she whispered.
"Haven't I told you already? I'm a survivor, Swan," he replied.
The reprieve of reunion was short-lived, for the wind picked up with an icy thrill to its airs, lashing out in a furious tempo. Killian had experience many a storm brewing or a tempest nearing-to-pass, but these winds belonged to neither. He wrapped Emma in his arms, wondering after the unforgiving stone against her bare feet, which surely would turn blue if she spent another minute outside. He readied to lift her up and carry her inside to the warmth of his chamber, only to be stayed by a fearful tremble from below.
"Bloody hell," he mumbled.
A braying whiney cascaded from above, and Emma cast a confused look up to the sky. It gave him a foolish notion, yet one that persisted in his mind despite all doubts.
He braced her against the wall, but it proved no point, as the shaking continued beyond the interval of uncertainty, boding a far greater ill in the offing. There would be no way to scale the outside of the lighthouse safely, but with any luck, they might have time to ascend the stairs within.
"Emma, love, we need to make it to the roof," he said.
"But, the boat - "
"We're too close to shore for any vessel to be safe on the water," he interrupted. "Run, love. We need to run."
Beyond the hunger and thirst, Emma had poured nearly everything she had into the blast that cast Cora away. She barely understood how she remained standing. She couldn't imagine ascending the stairs in her current state, and even if she succeeded, what then?
Would he ever put you in danger? she thought, and she knew the answer without consideration.
She swallowed hard and nodded her head, yes before walking swiftly to the door. It opened with hardly any strength and closed behind them just as readily, despite the movements of the earth. She hesitated at the bottom of the stairs for a moment, overwhelmed by the memory of dozens she'd climb before even reading a proper ladder. But it was only a moment, truly, and in the next instant she steeled herself, deepening her breath, and then raced up the stairs as if she were freshly rested and untouched by any need.
Killian hadn't noticed her reservations, for his eye fell on the large hiking pack. It was the only one they hadn't taken on their journey, but only because they had no need for its great size. It was folly to risk his life for a few spare trinkets, yet as Emma began the long climb up the stairs, he caught a glimpse of her poor cold toes and grabbed the bag without further thought.
Thus, as she ascended with the speed of Hermes, he stumbled about the bottom floors, collecting items from whatever storage closets he dared enter. His attempts weren't entirely successful, for many of their stores that hadn't been upset by the tremors were being shaking from their shelves even as he entered, forcing him to quit after the six door, when the bag was still quite empty. He ran to the midline so quickly a stitch formed in his side, forcing him to double over to catch his breath.
He stumbled into the kitchen and knocked anything he could reach into the pack, not caring if the next item might crush or tarnish it.
"Killian!"
Her voice was so hoarse, it pained him to hear it. He cursed himself as he returned to the stairs, worried that his request to run had been too much for her, but instead he found her leaning over the railing by his chamber door, the concern on her face so palpable that he could feel it even at this distance. He couldn't blame her. He had been so focused on gathering supplies that he failed to register the degree of the vibrations, which had intensified fivefold since they came inside.
"Go, love! I'm right behind you!" he shouted up.
There was nothing for it. Whatever he had acquired would have to see them through to their next destination. He tied the back tight around him, securing it as soundly as possible as he caught his breath. The panic in his belly threatened to consume him, but he reminded himself that a measured step was better than a rushed injury. He thought of Emma, how sickly pale she looked, how strong she must've been to climb in spite of her recent trials, and it was easy to calm himself. Then with a sure step, he climbed, and his only thought was that the pack was heavier than he anticipated.
Emma hadn't ascended the last ladder yet, for she couldn't leave without him. Neither did she dare stand on the roof without aid, for she was sure to faint. When she finally saw him appear from the hatch below, she nearly did.
"Emma?" he yelled. "Go, love! I'm right behind you. You'll need to get on first."
She didn't understand, but she still nodded her head, yes. She proceeded to climb, though her shaky arms slowed her considerably. By the time she popped open the hatch above, Killian was nearly on her heel.
Together they stumbled out onto the roof. It was a truly odd and terrifying sensation, for the lighthouse swayed as if with the wind, shifting constantly underfoot while shaking. The great winged horse Pegasus paced it, however, as if the beast were so surefooted even the dancing of the earth could not beset him.
She took his hand, and they raced over to the steed. She hardly had a chance to register finding her seat before she found herself leaning forward. Killian joined her, blanketing her body and wrapping his arms firmly around her. Had she not known better, she would've thought they were curled up together on some couch.
She didn't have time to protest the awkward position, for Pegasus took off at a canter, racing in circles for a few laps before leaping into the air.
The heavy beating of his wings muffled the sounds below, yet nothing could silence such a thing. For that reason alone, they knew the earth yet shook, yet its constant wavering no longer troubled them.
Emma dared not look down at first, fearing that she might be overwhelmed at the sight, but after some time of constant comfort in Killian's arms, courage spurred her to peek over the great stallion's shoulder.
She immediately regretted her decision. Had her mouth not already been dry, it would've lost all moisture in that instant, for the world beneath them churned like a great vat of milk transforming into butter. She couldn't see the lighthouse nor any true form above the water that might be land, but then again, it was all very, very far below. It was so far down, in fact, that she wondered how close they were to the sun, but a quick glance up showed her that her assumption had been wrong. They seemed nearly level with Stagrock's height in the sky, which meant they hadn't flown high at all. Rather, the earth had merged into the ocean, and the waters were falling deeper and deeper into whatever lay beyond them.
She closed her eyes and gripped Pegasus even harder, for all she knew, there was naught left in this realm save for she, Killian, and their steed.
Pegasus was unlike any steed in all the realms, though not for, as many would claim, the strange nature of his birth, wherein he sprung forth from the blood of the decapitated head of the gorgon Medusa, for many a splendid creature quickened into life upon the death of a fiendish and lethal beast. His from could've proven a burden, cursing him to live as an ungainly and therefore undesirable mount, but some otherworldly mercy granted him potency and grace enough to instead become the finest steed both on land and in air. Even so, that which set him apart came neither form his birth nor luck's fickle favor but rather his feat of ascending to Mount Olympus.
In the end, that was what made him the steed of the gods. He became the lightning barer of Zeus for a time, but he quickly grew restless of such a position and began to wander, seeking adventures of his own among the living. As for how he came to be in the Underworld, well, that remained a tale only whispered sub rosa, for reasons mortals have been left evermore to ponder.
Time lost its meaning and feeling, so neither Killian nor Emma knew how long they were in flight. When either looked for any sign of land, they saw nothing but an endless expanse of a blackened ocean stretching out in every direction. Though they never spoke of it, they both wondered if they had fallen back into Morpheus's Realm, where fantasy and the illogical conspired to delight and to terrify the soul. It seemed a fitting thought at a time when exhaustion persisted as the air around them numbed their hurts, but all the while, sleep remained elusive.
They attempted conversation more than once, but it was a difficult thing to hear over the whooshing rush and great thumping emanating from Pegasus's wings. So they said as little as required to prevent straining their voices.
And so it continued for a very, very long time, but as with all things, it did not last forever.
For an isle of rock emerged in the east, appearing to stretch from the depths of the inky sea to the sun itself. Its height, however, seemed its only attribute, for otherwise it was a thankless piece of onyx with nothing but a single tree that gleamed and glowed. Had it not stood in its precise location, the cavernous opening along the western side of the endlessly rising column would've been entirely concealed, even from Pegasus.
Thankfully, however, the steed did not miss his mark, and so he dove down to meet his landing with ease. The abrupt motion in the otherwise monotonous journey shocked both riders to attention, which was fortuitous, as they were alert and aware before his hooves touched the unforgiving surface of rock.
"Thank you, Old Boy," Killian said before he dismounted.
He offered his assistance to Emma, but as soon as her feet touched the ground, they both collapsed onto the solid surface of stone, their muscles taught and tired after so long a ride. They somehow made it away from the edge and into the beginnings of the mysterious black cavern, where Killian riffled through his pack, producing stockings and shoes, then bread and cheese, and then a few carrots and a bag of grains.
He offered Pegasus the last pair of these, perhaps unaware that the steed could live for a very long time with no sustenance. More than that, unlike Tamara and Cora, the two mortals before him now were worthy of the steed's trust, and the stallion favored the flavor and crunch of carrots and had no quarrel with grain. Thus he happily ate up the only food Killian had been able to gather for him.
Meanwhile, Emma produced a number of water skins from under her outer coat, and Killian nearly laughed in relief. She had thought enough to grab the water skins they kept in the kitchen on her ascent to the roof, which was why they weren't there to fill his pack as he followed her up. It would not last them long, so they only took measured sips, no matter how much their thirst demanded.
To forget their thirstiness, they turned to their stores. In normal circumstances, they would've separated the cheese and bread into cuts and crafted sandwiches, but so voracious was their hunger that they simply bit into the loaf and brick without ceremony. Brick and loaf both were soon gone, but at least for now, they had taken their hunger with it.
They must've fallen asleep, for they woke in one another's arms to find Pegasus standing outside the cavern. They did not discuss their lot, nor did they ask how the world had come undone save for this pitiful spot of land. They waited, and they rested.
"We should ration what we have," Killian suggested. "Let's see it then."
They unpacked the pack and discovered a pair of clean socks, two clean shirts, gloves, hats, and a number of small tools attached to a thick belt, which Killian donned as soon as he found. There was also a very squished dish of cooked beans and rice, a few vegetables, and another loaf of bread. Everything else - including a bag of dried beans and another of rice - required water, which they had precious little to spare. Still, he laid it out with all the rest, that they might consider their options.
Emma laughed a desperate, mirthless laugh that filled the cavern with a ghastly sound that echoed on and on, as if the cave went miles deep.
"Swan?" he prompted as he reached out to her.
"What's the point?" she asked. "Killian, the entire world just crumbled around us. Literally. This rock is probably the only solid ground. Whatever we have, it's not enough. It can't be."
"Don't lose hope now," he replied. "We have each other. That's always enough."
"Not always," she countered. "It wasn't enough to prevent you from - from coming here."
"Aye, I died," he said. "If that didn't stop you, I hardly expect the world turning to soup to have any effect."
She gave him a weak smile before she collapsed into his arms, her strength and will escaping her without notice. He was right, of course he was right, but she had no more stamina for optimism. And she saw no way through the misery that engulfed them, no way home from this mire of a wasteland.
"Do you hear that?" she asked.
The question left her lips before she truly conceived it, yet it neither confused her nor put her off. Her instincts had already sensed a spot of light, and she was keen to follow it.
"The echo," he remarked, turning his head to follow the sound. "This cavern must run to the core of the earth."
"Let's find out," she said.
She started for the edge of darkness, but he grabbed her arm to halt her. When she turned with a confused look on her face, he felt compelled to explain himself.
"We'll hardly see anything without light," he pointed out.
Emma nodded her head, yes, before she looked over the few things at their disposal. None could serve as a match, flint, nor torch, and she worried her bottom lip at the prospect. If only they hadn't left the Unending Flame behind...
"Your magic, love," he whispered. "There's nothing else to light our way without casting a fog."
Killian felt as if he was pulled in a thousand directions, and Emma's outburst had mirrored his own inner demons all too clearly. He hadn't lived as a good man, so he deserved to be mired in never-ending punishments. The redemption he had scraped out in his last life had been too precious and too late to change his fate, but his faith in Emma never wavered. If there was some way out of this horrible place, she would be the one to discover it.
So when she hesitated at the suggestion of magic, his only thought was to support her, to remind her that she and she alone was capable of anything. Words felt woefully inadequate, and in the muddle of his thoughts, he reflexively reached out to her, reassuring her with a firm yet gentle touch, clasping her left hand in his right. No sooner had their fingers woven together then a great, hissing rumble sounded. With the next breath, a spark rose out of Emma's free hand, coiling around and around like a great, fiery serpent winding itself into a wheel. It continued until it took the shape of a tiny, fist-sized sun that cast light in every direction as it floated about seven feet from the floor, shining, as it was, just overhead between them.
His eyes fell on her face, and despite her disheveled hair and the dirt of several long journeys, the light revealed her beauty, though true be told, her smile radiated far more than the floating torch. It cast decades of hard labor from her, and no amount of grime could tarnish that sight. His lips curled against his will, and he regretted nothing of it.
Emma went first, her right arm aloft with her palm up, somehow guiding the light so as to keep it in front of them, that it might illuminate their way. She squeezed his hand as she tugged him along, and he stepped behind her, forgoing a comfortable distance and following on her heel.
The cavern was narrowed till it was but a tunnel that was passable for anyone on foot, but it was too tight for a horse, even one of a normal size, let alone the likes of Pegasus. Killian wondered if the Old Boy was waiting on their return or if he was out flying through the clear, serene skies.
The pass opened up into an enormous cavern. The abrupt change made them both stumble over their own feet. She raised the light higher, increasing its luminosity so that when it floated twenty feet from the floor, just a few feet from the ceiling, it lit up the entire space, from the tiny passage to the circular edges. There was no other exit, but the walls had ornate roses carved in intricate patterns from the base at the floors up to the bowl-shaped ceiling where the designs continued and eventually entwined.
Beyond the peculiar decor, the cavern was empty, save for a stone statue of a young woman adorned with finery and clothed in resplendent dress, which contrasted her bare feet. For some reason, the statue captured her in an odd position, standing upright with her hands held out and cupped together. Whoever the subject, she had surely been a beautiful woman, for the statue could be called nothing if not stunning.
Sorrow lingered in this place, seizing the splendor and tainting it with sadness, much as it does in memorials or tombs.
Killian found the words carved into the floor around her feet, in a manner similar to the roses that covered the wall and ceiling. The message must've been chiseled into the rock by hand, and a very fine and steady hand at that. The lettering had an obsessive protection to them.
"What does it say?" Emma asked.
He found it a strange thing that a sailor would know a language that a princess would not, but then again, she was no ordinary princess. Perhaps she'd never had the inclination nor the time to learn the classical languages like Latin and Greek, but the Royal Navy had instilled it in every officer, which was why he read the words as sure as if they had been writ in English.
"The Eternally Beloved Queen Persephone who brought True Love to the Underworld," he read out loud. "May her rest be peaceful."
"This is someone's grave?" she asked.
"Not just anyone, love," he replied. "Persephone, goddess of the spring time and wife of Hades. There was a tale of her being turned to stone with the head of the Gorgon Medusa, trapping her in the Underworld and assuring that the next spring would never come."
"Is that true? Has there been no spring since she's been here?"
"No," he replied. "I heard that tale as a young sailor, around the time my brother and I received our first commission."
"You mean, in this life?" she asked.
"No, from before," he replied. "The dastardly plot to strand the world in an eternal winter was thwarted. If you believe the things sailors say when too much ale has passed their lips, the full thaw came nearly a month late the year she was imprisoned, but even with the spring time goddess unable to return, her bounty reached the world."
"Because someone thwarted the plot?" she inquired. "Who? How?"
"No idea, love," he replied. "I always believed it to be a particularly boring tale. There was no reason to believe a word of it."
"So, Hades drops in on us, and then the entire world disappears, except for us, a flying horse, and his dead wife," she summarized. "Why would he do that?"
"You heard him, love," Killian said. "We've only one trial left to complete. Whatever the bloody hell the other nine were, I've no idea, but one more, and your deal with him ends in your favor. He can't have that."
"But he said he wanted us to succeed."
"Aye," he said. "Then he went on about some nonsense, vanished, and cast everything into the sea."
"And he said we were out of chances," she whispered. "He seemed truthful, but... he wasn't. Not entirely."
Killian shook his head, unsure of how such sentiments could help them now. It was clear that his cavernous space was all there was, with no passage anywhere else. Here they were, stranded in the middle of a wasteland where there was naught but a single grave and all the lamentations that came with it.
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Chapter 32: Tyche's Spinning Wheel
Artist: LiamJcnes
Primary Post: Lament of the Asphodels
Chapter Notes
Harpocrates was the deity of silence and secrets in Greek mythology. Eros, the god of love, presented Harpocrates with the rose his mother Aphrodite had given him so that the indiscretions of the gods would remain secret. Thus, the rose became associated with confidentiality, which gave rise to the Latin expression sub rosa (literally, "under the rose"), indicating secrecy.
Author dracox-serdriel
Artist: LiamJcnes
Word count: 3,600
Rating/Warnings: For rating and full warning, please see the primary post.
Note: Written as part of Captain Swan Big Bang 2016.
[see Chapter Notes]
Killian and Emma stood, stunned by Hades' words and abrupt departure. They waited in his aftermath for some kind of retribution to come, too exhausted to speak or even move, until the weariness of their days finally collapsed them together. Sweet relief followed as they plied one another with kisses and light, feathering touches.
"I thought I'd lost you," she whispered.
"Haven't I told you already? I'm a survivor, Swan," he replied.
The reprieve of reunion was short-lived, for the wind picked up with an icy thrill to its airs, lashing out in a furious tempo. Killian had experience many a storm brewing or a tempest nearing-to-pass, but these winds belonged to neither. He wrapped Emma in his arms, wondering after the unforgiving stone against her bare feet, which surely would turn blue if she spent another minute outside. He readied to lift her up and carry her inside to the warmth of his chamber, only to be stayed by a fearful tremble from below.
"Bloody hell," he mumbled.
A braying whiney cascaded from above, and Emma cast a confused look up to the sky. It gave him a foolish notion, yet one that persisted in his mind despite all doubts.
He braced her against the wall, but it proved no point, as the shaking continued beyond the interval of uncertainty, boding a far greater ill in the offing. There would be no way to scale the outside of the lighthouse safely, but with any luck, they might have time to ascend the stairs within.
"Emma, love, we need to make it to the roof," he said.
"But, the boat - "
"We're too close to shore for any vessel to be safe on the water," he interrupted. "Run, love. We need to run."
Beyond the hunger and thirst, Emma had poured nearly everything she had into the blast that cast Cora away. She barely understood how she remained standing. She couldn't imagine ascending the stairs in her current state, and even if she succeeded, what then?
Would he ever put you in danger? she thought, and she knew the answer without consideration.
She swallowed hard and nodded her head, yes before walking swiftly to the door. It opened with hardly any strength and closed behind them just as readily, despite the movements of the earth. She hesitated at the bottom of the stairs for a moment, overwhelmed by the memory of dozens she'd climb before even reading a proper ladder. But it was only a moment, truly, and in the next instant she steeled herself, deepening her breath, and then raced up the stairs as if she were freshly rested and untouched by any need.
Killian hadn't noticed her reservations, for his eye fell on the large hiking pack. It was the only one they hadn't taken on their journey, but only because they had no need for its great size. It was folly to risk his life for a few spare trinkets, yet as Emma began the long climb up the stairs, he caught a glimpse of her poor cold toes and grabbed the bag without further thought.
Thus, as she ascended with the speed of Hermes, he stumbled about the bottom floors, collecting items from whatever storage closets he dared enter. His attempts weren't entirely successful, for many of their stores that hadn't been upset by the tremors were being shaking from their shelves even as he entered, forcing him to quit after the six door, when the bag was still quite empty. He ran to the midline so quickly a stitch formed in his side, forcing him to double over to catch his breath.
He stumbled into the kitchen and knocked anything he could reach into the pack, not caring if the next item might crush or tarnish it.
"Killian!"
Her voice was so hoarse, it pained him to hear it. He cursed himself as he returned to the stairs, worried that his request to run had been too much for her, but instead he found her leaning over the railing by his chamber door, the concern on her face so palpable that he could feel it even at this distance. He couldn't blame her. He had been so focused on gathering supplies that he failed to register the degree of the vibrations, which had intensified fivefold since they came inside.
"Go, love! I'm right behind you!" he shouted up.
There was nothing for it. Whatever he had acquired would have to see them through to their next destination. He tied the back tight around him, securing it as soundly as possible as he caught his breath. The panic in his belly threatened to consume him, but he reminded himself that a measured step was better than a rushed injury. He thought of Emma, how sickly pale she looked, how strong she must've been to climb in spite of her recent trials, and it was easy to calm himself. Then with a sure step, he climbed, and his only thought was that the pack was heavier than he anticipated.
Emma hadn't ascended the last ladder yet, for she couldn't leave without him. Neither did she dare stand on the roof without aid, for she was sure to faint. When she finally saw him appear from the hatch below, she nearly did.
"Emma?" he yelled. "Go, love! I'm right behind you. You'll need to get on first."
She didn't understand, but she still nodded her head, yes. She proceeded to climb, though her shaky arms slowed her considerably. By the time she popped open the hatch above, Killian was nearly on her heel.
Together they stumbled out onto the roof. It was a truly odd and terrifying sensation, for the lighthouse swayed as if with the wind, shifting constantly underfoot while shaking. The great winged horse Pegasus paced it, however, as if the beast were so surefooted even the dancing of the earth could not beset him.
She took his hand, and they raced over to the steed. She hardly had a chance to register finding her seat before she found herself leaning forward. Killian joined her, blanketing her body and wrapping his arms firmly around her. Had she not known better, she would've thought they were curled up together on some couch.
She didn't have time to protest the awkward position, for Pegasus took off at a canter, racing in circles for a few laps before leaping into the air.
The heavy beating of his wings muffled the sounds below, yet nothing could silence such a thing. For that reason alone, they knew the earth yet shook, yet its constant wavering no longer troubled them.
Emma dared not look down at first, fearing that she might be overwhelmed at the sight, but after some time of constant comfort in Killian's arms, courage spurred her to peek over the great stallion's shoulder.
She immediately regretted her decision. Had her mouth not already been dry, it would've lost all moisture in that instant, for the world beneath them churned like a great vat of milk transforming into butter. She couldn't see the lighthouse nor any true form above the water that might be land, but then again, it was all very, very far below. It was so far down, in fact, that she wondered how close they were to the sun, but a quick glance up showed her that her assumption had been wrong. They seemed nearly level with Stagrock's height in the sky, which meant they hadn't flown high at all. Rather, the earth had merged into the ocean, and the waters were falling deeper and deeper into whatever lay beyond them.
She closed her eyes and gripped Pegasus even harder, for all she knew, there was naught left in this realm save for she, Killian, and their steed.
Pegasus was unlike any steed in all the realms, though not for, as many would claim, the strange nature of his birth, wherein he sprung forth from the blood of the decapitated head of the gorgon Medusa, for many a splendid creature quickened into life upon the death of a fiendish and lethal beast. His from could've proven a burden, cursing him to live as an ungainly and therefore undesirable mount, but some otherworldly mercy granted him potency and grace enough to instead become the finest steed both on land and in air. Even so, that which set him apart came neither form his birth nor luck's fickle favor but rather his feat of ascending to Mount Olympus.
In the end, that was what made him the steed of the gods. He became the lightning barer of Zeus for a time, but he quickly grew restless of such a position and began to wander, seeking adventures of his own among the living. As for how he came to be in the Underworld, well, that remained a tale only whispered sub rosa, for reasons mortals have been left evermore to ponder.
Time lost its meaning and feeling, so neither Killian nor Emma knew how long they were in flight. When either looked for any sign of land, they saw nothing but an endless expanse of a blackened ocean stretching out in every direction. Though they never spoke of it, they both wondered if they had fallen back into Morpheus's Realm, where fantasy and the illogical conspired to delight and to terrify the soul. It seemed a fitting thought at a time when exhaustion persisted as the air around them numbed their hurts, but all the while, sleep remained elusive.
They attempted conversation more than once, but it was a difficult thing to hear over the whooshing rush and great thumping emanating from Pegasus's wings. So they said as little as required to prevent straining their voices.
And so it continued for a very, very long time, but as with all things, it did not last forever.
For an isle of rock emerged in the east, appearing to stretch from the depths of the inky sea to the sun itself. Its height, however, seemed its only attribute, for otherwise it was a thankless piece of onyx with nothing but a single tree that gleamed and glowed. Had it not stood in its precise location, the cavernous opening along the western side of the endlessly rising column would've been entirely concealed, even from Pegasus.
Thankfully, however, the steed did not miss his mark, and so he dove down to meet his landing with ease. The abrupt motion in the otherwise monotonous journey shocked both riders to attention, which was fortuitous, as they were alert and aware before his hooves touched the unforgiving surface of rock.
"Thank you, Old Boy," Killian said before he dismounted.
He offered his assistance to Emma, but as soon as her feet touched the ground, they both collapsed onto the solid surface of stone, their muscles taught and tired after so long a ride. They somehow made it away from the edge and into the beginnings of the mysterious black cavern, where Killian riffled through his pack, producing stockings and shoes, then bread and cheese, and then a few carrots and a bag of grains.
He offered Pegasus the last pair of these, perhaps unaware that the steed could live for a very long time with no sustenance. More than that, unlike Tamara and Cora, the two mortals before him now were worthy of the steed's trust, and the stallion favored the flavor and crunch of carrots and had no quarrel with grain. Thus he happily ate up the only food Killian had been able to gather for him.
Meanwhile, Emma produced a number of water skins from under her outer coat, and Killian nearly laughed in relief. She had thought enough to grab the water skins they kept in the kitchen on her ascent to the roof, which was why they weren't there to fill his pack as he followed her up. It would not last them long, so they only took measured sips, no matter how much their thirst demanded.
To forget their thirstiness, they turned to their stores. In normal circumstances, they would've separated the cheese and bread into cuts and crafted sandwiches, but so voracious was their hunger that they simply bit into the loaf and brick without ceremony. Brick and loaf both were soon gone, but at least for now, they had taken their hunger with it.
They must've fallen asleep, for they woke in one another's arms to find Pegasus standing outside the cavern. They did not discuss their lot, nor did they ask how the world had come undone save for this pitiful spot of land. They waited, and they rested.
"We should ration what we have," Killian suggested. "Let's see it then."
They unpacked the pack and discovered a pair of clean socks, two clean shirts, gloves, hats, and a number of small tools attached to a thick belt, which Killian donned as soon as he found. There was also a very squished dish of cooked beans and rice, a few vegetables, and another loaf of bread. Everything else - including a bag of dried beans and another of rice - required water, which they had precious little to spare. Still, he laid it out with all the rest, that they might consider their options.
Emma laughed a desperate, mirthless laugh that filled the cavern with a ghastly sound that echoed on and on, as if the cave went miles deep.
"Swan?" he prompted as he reached out to her.
"What's the point?" she asked. "Killian, the entire world just crumbled around us. Literally. This rock is probably the only solid ground. Whatever we have, it's not enough. It can't be."
"Don't lose hope now," he replied. "We have each other. That's always enough."
"Not always," she countered. "It wasn't enough to prevent you from - from coming here."
"Aye, I died," he said. "If that didn't stop you, I hardly expect the world turning to soup to have any effect."
She gave him a weak smile before she collapsed into his arms, her strength and will escaping her without notice. He was right, of course he was right, but she had no more stamina for optimism. And she saw no way through the misery that engulfed them, no way home from this mire of a wasteland.
"Do you hear that?" she asked.
The question left her lips before she truly conceived it, yet it neither confused her nor put her off. Her instincts had already sensed a spot of light, and she was keen to follow it.
"The echo," he remarked, turning his head to follow the sound. "This cavern must run to the core of the earth."
"Let's find out," she said.
She started for the edge of darkness, but he grabbed her arm to halt her. When she turned with a confused look on her face, he felt compelled to explain himself.
"We'll hardly see anything without light," he pointed out.
Emma nodded her head, yes, before she looked over the few things at their disposal. None could serve as a match, flint, nor torch, and she worried her bottom lip at the prospect. If only they hadn't left the Unending Flame behind...
"Your magic, love," he whispered. "There's nothing else to light our way without casting a fog."
Killian felt as if he was pulled in a thousand directions, and Emma's outburst had mirrored his own inner demons all too clearly. He hadn't lived as a good man, so he deserved to be mired in never-ending punishments. The redemption he had scraped out in his last life had been too precious and too late to change his fate, but his faith in Emma never wavered. If there was some way out of this horrible place, she would be the one to discover it.
So when she hesitated at the suggestion of magic, his only thought was to support her, to remind her that she and she alone was capable of anything. Words felt woefully inadequate, and in the muddle of his thoughts, he reflexively reached out to her, reassuring her with a firm yet gentle touch, clasping her left hand in his right. No sooner had their fingers woven together then a great, hissing rumble sounded. With the next breath, a spark rose out of Emma's free hand, coiling around and around like a great, fiery serpent winding itself into a wheel. It continued until it took the shape of a tiny, fist-sized sun that cast light in every direction as it floated about seven feet from the floor, shining, as it was, just overhead between them.
His eyes fell on her face, and despite her disheveled hair and the dirt of several long journeys, the light revealed her beauty, though true be told, her smile radiated far more than the floating torch. It cast decades of hard labor from her, and no amount of grime could tarnish that sight. His lips curled against his will, and he regretted nothing of it.
Emma went first, her right arm aloft with her palm up, somehow guiding the light so as to keep it in front of them, that it might illuminate their way. She squeezed his hand as she tugged him along, and he stepped behind her, forgoing a comfortable distance and following on her heel.
The cavern was narrowed till it was but a tunnel that was passable for anyone on foot, but it was too tight for a horse, even one of a normal size, let alone the likes of Pegasus. Killian wondered if the Old Boy was waiting on their return or if he was out flying through the clear, serene skies.
The pass opened up into an enormous cavern. The abrupt change made them both stumble over their own feet. She raised the light higher, increasing its luminosity so that when it floated twenty feet from the floor, just a few feet from the ceiling, it lit up the entire space, from the tiny passage to the circular edges. There was no other exit, but the walls had ornate roses carved in intricate patterns from the base at the floors up to the bowl-shaped ceiling where the designs continued and eventually entwined.
Beyond the peculiar decor, the cavern was empty, save for a stone statue of a young woman adorned with finery and clothed in resplendent dress, which contrasted her bare feet. For some reason, the statue captured her in an odd position, standing upright with her hands held out and cupped together. Whoever the subject, she had surely been a beautiful woman, for the statue could be called nothing if not stunning.
Sorrow lingered in this place, seizing the splendor and tainting it with sadness, much as it does in memorials or tombs.
Killian found the words carved into the floor around her feet, in a manner similar to the roses that covered the wall and ceiling. The message must've been chiseled into the rock by hand, and a very fine and steady hand at that. The lettering had an obsessive protection to them.
"What does it say?" Emma asked.
He found it a strange thing that a sailor would know a language that a princess would not, but then again, she was no ordinary princess. Perhaps she'd never had the inclination nor the time to learn the classical languages like Latin and Greek, but the Royal Navy had instilled it in every officer, which was why he read the words as sure as if they had been writ in English.
"The Eternally Beloved Queen Persephone who brought True Love to the Underworld," he read out loud. "May her rest be peaceful."
"This is someone's grave?" she asked.
"Not just anyone, love," he replied. "Persephone, goddess of the spring time and wife of Hades. There was a tale of her being turned to stone with the head of the Gorgon Medusa, trapping her in the Underworld and assuring that the next spring would never come."
"Is that true? Has there been no spring since she's been here?"
"No," he replied. "I heard that tale as a young sailor, around the time my brother and I received our first commission."
"You mean, in this life?" she asked.
"No, from before," he replied. "The dastardly plot to strand the world in an eternal winter was thwarted. If you believe the things sailors say when too much ale has passed their lips, the full thaw came nearly a month late the year she was imprisoned, but even with the spring time goddess unable to return, her bounty reached the world."
"Because someone thwarted the plot?" she inquired. "Who? How?"
"No idea, love," he replied. "I always believed it to be a particularly boring tale. There was no reason to believe a word of it."
"So, Hades drops in on us, and then the entire world disappears, except for us, a flying horse, and his dead wife," she summarized. "Why would he do that?"
"You heard him, love," Killian said. "We've only one trial left to complete. Whatever the bloody hell the other nine were, I've no idea, but one more, and your deal with him ends in your favor. He can't have that."
"But he said he wanted us to succeed."
"Aye," he said. "Then he went on about some nonsense, vanished, and cast everything into the sea."
"And he said we were out of chances," she whispered. "He seemed truthful, but... he wasn't. Not entirely."
Killian shook his head, unsure of how such sentiments could help them now. It was clear that his cavernous space was all there was, with no passage anywhere else. Here they were, stranded in the middle of a wasteland where there was naught but a single grave and all the lamentations that came with it.
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Chapter 30: Sisyphus, He Sat upon His Rock
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Chapter 32: Tyche's Spinning Wheel
Artist: LiamJcnes
Primary Post: Lament of the Asphodels
Chapter Notes
Harpocrates was the deity of silence and secrets in Greek mythology. Eros, the god of love, presented Harpocrates with the rose his mother Aphrodite had given him so that the indiscretions of the gods would remain secret. Thus, the rose became associated with confidentiality, which gave rise to the Latin expression sub rosa (literally, "under the rose"), indicating secrecy.