Hades and Persephone

Chapter 27: The Storm

I have been trying to write this for since the last update (so like a month or something) and made 0 progress for a long time and I think I'm mostly happy with it.  

Also: Yay, I'm part of the Wattys again this year. Not gonna win, calling it now, but hey more feedback is feedback.

So is the story still (mostly) consistent? Or am I in for some major rewrites (which I'm already planning on)? Cuz I don't plan out novels at all.

A familiar pain shot up his ankle, wrapping from wingtip to wingtip. Like a fire that dug deep into his bones—his very soul—it burned. Cool air rushed past his falling form but did nothing to ease the burning. Instead, it did only the opposite.

The only thing Hermes could do was brace for impact.

He grit his teeth, drawing gold ichor when his cheek got caught between them. By no means his only fall but they were never any less painful.

Bark grated against his skin as he grabbed for a nearby tree—its branches were long and loose instead of the short and stubby ones he would have found near Kore's home. The first branch snapped without resistance, as did a few others after that. Then came the older, thicker, limbs that with a resounding crack seemed to flip the god ungracefully onto the ground. Hermes' head smacked against the frozen earth.

"Get up! Get up, runt!" Someone was already hauling the god onto his useless feet before he could place the voice to memory.

"Get him out of here!"

"I'm working on it, just cover me!"

"What do you think I'm doing, pretty boy?!" Artemis released arrow after arrow. One took a sharp upturn, another made it into the storm but gave no indication it hit anything, a third shattered in the wind and a fourth shattered in her hand.

"Well, you aren't doing it well!" Apollo kicked at his little brother in the hope of getting his legs to move. Hermes didn't feel anything but numbing pain. "You're going to have to help me!"

The goddess dove to the side, landing uncomfortably on her bow. Where she once stood was now a curl of earth and ice. She had not heard her brother's plea, but she knew when to flea from a battle. Artemis took off running the moment she could, grass already cutting into her bare feet like tiny knives. Her body half slammed into the boys, letting her momentum push them forward into a sprint as she stayed behind a moment longer.

Artemis drew two last arrows from her quiver and fired them in quick succession. One speared through the sky and into the night. The other, silver tipped as it's twin, dug into the earth and disappeared.

As ice and wind were about to consume her a warm body knocked her to the ground. A brief glimpse of dark skin with white splotches reminded her of Apollo.

"You idiot," her swears were carried off by the wind.

Apollo curled around his sister, shielding her from the cold the best he could. Cold nipped at his ears and toes. He felt his tunic dampen and harden in the storm.

"What about Hermes?!"

"He's going to be fine!" Apollo lied. "You're going to be fine!" He hoped it wasn't a lie. The two hid their faces from the wind.

As torrent and ice consumed their forms they came closer to the wraith at the center. A perversion of what was beautiful of winter—the first snow and the gentle frost against the golden sunsets—hung in the center of it all. It did not see, it did not understand, it could not know what Apollo did for his sister nor that she attempted to do the same just moments before. Perhaps it was some sick sense of curiosity, or a drive to know what it could never feel, but the creature took a moment to look at the siblings huddling together.

Demeter's head snapped to the side as a club smacked her across the face. Its vision slightly blinded by the torch fire licking at her cheek. A wave of its fist commanded the storm to crush the flickering light under ice and wind, but it flew before it had the chance.

The torch landed in Hecate's outstretched hand, illuminating the old and wrinkled face she bore that night. Her gray tunic was tied between her legs, a bow strapped across her shoulders, and a silver arrow pinned through her hair.

"Do you want Kore?" The goddess held the torch high above her head. Where the firelight touched, the storm ceased. Demeter cocked its head at the name, waiting to hear the rest of the challenge.

A little girl, no more than eight, with the bright electric hair of her father and the warm dark skin of her mother, stepped into view. She waved a small hand and took off running, giggling.

Ferocious as a wolf, the storm took off after the girl with Hecate running between them. A hellish scream echoed over the rivers and hills, out over the ocean, and into the sky.

Kore was always at the edge of the torchlight. Always just out of reach. Always mocking Demeter with her laughter. The storm could hardly blow a gust of wind in Kore's direction.

Her petal dress did not catch on trees or earth, no matter how it was commanded to do so.

It did not even realize that the girl jumped with the fire, stuttering and ignoring terrain as if it did not exist. Hecate took every twisted limb and rock spire with all the grace of a dancer and stamina of a runner.

As the goddess tore through the river after Kore the child remained dry. As the goddess jumped over limb and boulder, the child seemed to ignore their very existence. As the flame flickered through trees and over hills and land it warned every creature to stay clear. And, as Hecate ran a marathon that would put Philippides to shame, she took as wide a berth around each settlement as she could.

Gods and Titans watched as the witch led the storm as far east as the world could take them.