‘After speaking to some of the humans,’ I continue, ‘I have decided you’re right.’
‘As I am about so many things, yes.’
‘My experiences are limited and I don’t know enough to judge them. Human life is hard and mine is easy.’
‘I don’t think I ever went that far.’
I ignore him and carry on. ‘I’ve decided to create a council of humans so they can judge each other. All hand-selected, plenty of them, and they all want to do it. They’ll decide who goes where.’
‘It’s a good idea.’ He nods. ‘Not perfect, though – it could easily be corrupted.’
I nod. ‘Yeah, we’ll have to regulate it – maybe talk to some of the gods and goddesses of justice and things like that.’
I don’t suggest my mother. Her primary domain might be agriculture but she’s also goddess of sacred law. She oversees the very cycles of the world. Maybe once everything’s settled she can visit and I can hear her thoughts. I could bring some small part of her here with me forever.
‘Great.’ He nods again. ‘And the punishments? Will they decide those too?’
‘I think so, though I have a few ideas myself. I, uh, spoke to Tartarus and he’s fine with us putting the worst humans into the pit he guards. Not as deep as the Titans, obviously, but on a tier above.’
He flinches – though I’m not sure if it’s a response to my plan for the humans or the mention of the Titans. ‘That seems cruel.’
‘These humans have done things every bit as bad as the Titans ever did,’ I say and rush on before we can linger on it. ‘And no punishment is forever. It’ll be over the moment they truly feel remorse for what they’ve done. We can re-evaluate if it’s not working – but if we want to scare the humans away from mimicking the gods’ awful behaviour, then we need something to threaten them with. Paradise and punishment – carrot and stick.’
‘Okay, yes, you’re right. And you can create this?’
‘I think so.’
We’ve brought Hades’ paintings with us and now we lay them out on the ground. Could it be possible? To translate something so beautiful into something real?
‘No time like the present,’ he says, staring at his pictures.
‘I expected something more ceremonial.’
‘Oh great goddess Persephone,’ he intones, sweeping his arm across his body in a dramatic bow. ‘Today heralds a new era for the realm of the dead, one of judgement and reward. It shall have justice for sinners and those sinned against. Let us rejoice as the realm is split and the spirits of the dead are returned to fruition.’
‘Very nice,’ I say, knowing him well enough by now to cut him off lest he continue forever.
‘Why thank you.’ He sobers and when he speaks again his words are suddenly heavy, intentional – like he needs me to believe them. ‘You can do this.’
It seems extraordinary that, only a few weeks ago, any belief in myself felt like a delusion, fiercely clutched to despite the realities of the world.
But now that belief seems undeniable – and the world will take notice.
This is what I was meant to do. It’s who I am.
Of course I can do this.
I look to the paintings and then to the land in front of me. I don’t crouch to touch the land this time. I don’t need to do much at all to reach out and feel the Underworld’s pulse. It is static and it is warmth and it is the thundering heart at the centre of this realm, calling out to me. Energy rushes down myspine and glows in my fingertips. I wouldn’t be surprised if my eyes are glowing too – a god’s true immortal form, lying beneath the surface and only ever a brush of our power away. Everything else fades: the quiet whisper of doubt at the edge of my mind, the urgent rush of my thoughts, even Hades standing beside me. I can’t even feel the clothes on my skin – just this power and just this world.
And I could laugh, even in this state, because my mother springs to mind.
Her delicate fingers plucking at the threads of a loom.
It’s the closest thing to what I need to do that I could describe, and I understand now why Athena, goddess of war and knowledge, is also the goddess of weaving.
That’s what I do now. My hands reach out for threads only I can see, the golden strands that make up this realm. They flex under my touch as I rearrange them, shifting whole cords of this world.
I raise mountains and carve valleys.
