Hell Is An Empty Heart (Book One of The Triple Moon's Chronicles)

83 | Doomsday III - Seismic Waves Of Fury

Dark was the light buried behind the opening gates of the sacred heavenly court chamber.
Drawn forth were the naked footsteps that rumbled louder than a deafening lightning.
Was it the armada of guards lurking in the shadow of their master?
Was it the thunderbolt that he held like a javelin in his hand?
Was it the golden laurel wreath screwed on this head?
Fears enthroned the judgement of Persephone.

Armed with the gouged eyes of a ruthless murderer and dressed in gold as a blind judge, was Zeus on his arrival. He coiled in his rightful seat before all the condemned in his divine house. While one of his many henchmen announced the charges, he equally scorched at each of his victims with an evil gaze.

He held Hades responsible for the abduction of a woman without her mother's consent.

He then accused Demeter for the mass murder of nearly half of the entire earthborn.

While he charged Persephone for swallowing forbidden fruits, that could have caused the demise of her own immortal life.

Guilt escalated on their faces, but he remained like the one of an attacking snake—the symbol of power.

Between tugging at his clothes and swatting at the air, the grimacing Zeus stood up from his seat to snatch the scroll from his guard's hands. "Enough!" He shouted before sitting back on his throne. "Those formalities are meaningless between us; we all know each other and our crimes." Rhea was now standing on his right side as he chuckled. No one knew the end of their tumultuous argument, but they were now there together. "Leave all of you who had no part in this family's disputes," he motioned to his troops.

Doomsday had fallen over Persephone's small shoulders. She recoiled herself in her corner, chained to her mother's side, while staring at the one she loved standing in front of them. She didn't blame Hades or her own mother; Persephone had already convicted herself alone of the whole tragedy.

Zeus stood up and clapped his hands. "Should we begin from the day of Persephone's abduction?"

Rhea cleared her throat and said, "I think we should start with the conception of Persephone." And she set her zarobotane eyes on Demeter. Two leaden balls ready to fire from their long barrage cannons, and from afar, Demeter clutched on her stomach as if already wounded. When Rhea urged, "Deo, tell us all the events that led you to be Persephone's mother," Demeter swallowed heavily.

His feet shuffled before getting back on his throne, and sweat became more apparent on Zeus' forehead at the mention of his misdemeanour. "I don't think that would be necessary." The same nervous laugh came out of him—the echo that resounded louder in Demeter's ears than her own heartbeat. She was no Rhea; she could never confront Zeus again about it, and her chin dipped on her chest, tears built at the edge of her eyes. Zeus saw her reaction, and yet he proceeded, "The child is here now, and her birth didn't cause the death of anyone!"

Rhea tightened her fist. She could have slapped that comment out of his teeth, and it burned within her. The rage in the crimson flush on her cheeks and the call of punishment formed a scowl on her face. She knew deep down that something needed to be done, so she raised her voice within the authority bestowed on her today. "Do you agree, Deo?"

The question was simple; the words were understandable, but Demeter simply lost all her means to answer. It all went obscure behind her eyes, as if she were dragged into a pitch-black loophole of her self-consciousness.

Only a few hours ago, she had made the confession to her daughter, and now she had to live her worst nightmare all over again. Her head spun, and their faces all suddenly turned around her. Demeter tried to run to the gates in shame, but there was no escape. She couldn't run anywhere else.