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The idea had come to her while she moped in her room, pacing near the hearth as she tried to formulate her revenge on her husband. A short knock at her door, indicating her dinner of bread, broth, and wine had arrived for the fourth night in a row, and the idea slithered its way into her mind.
She had to see Pelops. Had to see him and touch him and talk to him one last time.
The image of Pelops melting at her feet had haunted her every time she shut her eyes, his maggot covered body following her around in her dreams at night. She just had to see him, see that he was okay and that he remembered her now, and then she would be okay.
Once he said he loved her and she apologized for all the horrible things Hades did because of her, she would be able to scrub that nightmare from her memory.
Then she would be free to ask about his relationship with Poseidon.
As she reached the shore of the river, the entrance of the grotto in sight, she called for the goddess again, too afraid of the what lurked beneath the water to venture across it again. “Styx! Where are you!”
“I am right here,” her silvery voice said from the cave’s mouth. “I heard you the first thirty-four times you yelled my name.”
“I need—” Persephone choked on her breath, “I need help—your help.”
Styx sucked her teeth, and when Persephone did not continue she said, “With what, exactly?”
“Pelops—”
“Who?
“It doesn’t matter who he is! I need to see him. Please,” her eyes burned, “help me. Do you have the supplies I need to summon a soul trapped here?” She gestured wide with her arms.
Styx raised an eyebrow, but nodded slowly, and returned to her house.
Persephone sank to the ground with her head in her hands as she waited for Styx to return.
“Here,” Styx said, tossing a tightly weaved basket across the river to Persephone, who looked up and reached her hands out just in time to catch it by the strap before it fell into the water. “Everything is in there. Milk first, then honey, wine, and the water. I assume you are only calling on the one soul?” Persephone nodded. “There’s a subdued hare in there, she should keep quiet and still for another hour, so make haste.”
“Thank you,” Persephone said breathlessly, shrugging the strap over her head and securing it across her body.
Styx was already returning to her home, but turned back at the entrance, her eyes finding Persephone. “You know to slit it’s throat after the water? And to only let whoever you’re calling upon to drink from it, right? There will only be enough blood for one soul to drink.”
Persephone nodded again, words failing her.
Styx’s eyes softened. “The soul will only be able to speak the truth. Are you sure you can handle whatever he will say?”
“The truth is precisely what I need.”
“Good luck.”
“Wait, Styx.” The goddess turned, cocking her head as she waited for Persephone to continue. “Thank you.”
Styx nodded, and shrugged.“There is a small field over there,” she said, jutting a thumb past the grotto, “between my river and Oceanus, at the point they split. It’s traditionally—”
“The entrance to the Underworld, yes, I know,” Persephone said, her voice clipped with impatience.
Styx raised an eyebrow. “That is where I would suggest summoning him.”
“Thank you, again,” Persephone called and she jogged past the grotto.
§
Persephone dumped the contents of the basket onto the ground beside her. She was sitting at the spot where the Stygian river branches off of Oceanus, the blue and black waters clearly defined. After lining them up in order of use, Persephone began to dig.
“That will have to be deep enough,” she said as she finished digging the hole, her nails cracked and cold with mud. “Milk,” she said, pouring the pale liquid into the dirt. She held her breath, expecting it to soak into the dirt immediately, but it pooled at the bottom, waiting for the remaining ingredients. “Honey, water—no wine, then water.” Her hands shook as she poured, her voice the only thing keeping her from crying. She was so nervous to see Pelops. If this even worked.
She lifted the small hare from the ground where it slept, it’s furry chest expanding with sleepy inhales. Biting her lip to keep from sobbing over the innocent rabbit’s death, Persephone gripped the knife’s hilt tighter, turning it around in her palm; loosen, turn, tighten.
