The Last Spring (ARCHIVED)

Act 1

Narcissus

“What’s that flower over there?”

“Come back and play with us, Persephone.” The water nymphs called to her. “We couldn’t possibly leave the water’s edge.”

“It looks like it’s weeping.”

A few of the nymphs strained to see what had caught her attention, then sank back into the river, the movement creating soft waves that lapped at Persephone’s ankles.

"Perhaps it is sad?" One replied.

“It’s only Narcissus,” Said another. “Come back and play with us.”

Persephone paused, still eyeing the flower longingly. She wrung her fingers together and furrowed her brows as she weighed her options.

“Your mother would not want you to run off on your own.” One of the Nymphs chimed in, and that settled the matter. Not wanting to cause her mother more needless worry, she sank back into the water with a giggle and re-joined her friends.

The water was cool on her breasts, a welcome respite from the warm summer heat. It caressed her skin as she floated about on her back and enjoyed the quiet afternoon. She often visited this lake, hidden by willows and ivy and overgrown bushes, to play with the water nymphs.

Her mother allowed these visits under the condition that she not leave the river-bed. Despite their delicate appearance, nymphs were quite formidable. They were, however, confined to the water.

Persephone turned her head to the side, catching glimpses of the flower Narcissus through the lush thicket as she floated down the lazy river.

Flashes of yellow.

Something pulled at her heart as she watched the flower pass by.

She lifted her hands out of the cool river and let the water roll off her fingertips and onto her face. Her mother, Demeter, would throw a fit. She shouldn’t disobey her - no matter how much she wanted that flower.

“You are not yourself.” A smooth, exotic voice pulled her out of her daydream. She looked over to see a pair of cat-like eyes, the skin around them lined with pale blue scales. The nymph looked her over, her mouth dipping in and out of the water. “Were you at Olympus again?”

Persephone let her hands sink back into the water and turned her gaze upwards. “I’ve been raised amongst humans my whole life,” She said, looking off. “I'm not yet used to the gods.” She stared at the thicket of branches above her and smiled. “I like humans; I like the way they live. But since my existence has been revealed, mother thought it best to make another appearance.”

The nymph girl began to stroke Persephone's crimson-red hair, sprawled out in an arc around her. “And then?” She purred.

“We broke bread with Hera and her son, Ares.”

The nymph’s hand faltered. She cocked her head to the side, her in-human eyes narrowing. “You broke bread… with the god of war?”

Persephone shrugged, but the green-haired nymph pushed.

“What was he like, our great god of war?” It asked, its lightly scaled hand continuing its descent up her long locks. Persephone closed her eyes. It felt good.

“Big.” She whispered, and her friend snickered.

“Big?”

“Beautiful.” She said, eyes still closed. But the corner of her mouth turned up in a smile.

The Nymph began to swim in circles around her, gently pushing her until she was spinning down the river.

“Scary.” Persephone added after a bit of thought. “I thought he was scary.”

“I would be embarrassed to be called a god of war and not be scary.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

Like her mother, Persephone was a goddess of spring. Together, their duty was to bless the mortal harvests and work to keep the land warm and fertile. But overly protective of her only daughter, her mother had kept Persephone's birth a secret from the court of Olympus and instead had chosen to raise her in the mortal realm, hidden from the gods.

But recently, that had changed.

It suddenly felt as if she were the one being harvested, and all of the Gods wanted a taste.

The Olympians had been respectful enough, but many minor gods with little to lose seemed to have been stricken with a sudden, insatiable curiosity. A few even managed to find them, and the ones that dared to introduce themselves still hadn’t recovered from her mother’s wrath.

She sometimes didn’t understand her mother, but she never dared to question her. She trusted she knew best.

But because of Demeter’s seemingly back and forth attitude on the whole situation, the question of why she had spent the morning with Hera and her son had hung in the air all afternoon. Her mother, the woman who had avoided Olympus like the plague since Persephone was born, had accepted Queen Hera’s invitation with almost no hesitation.

And meeting the God of War had been... strange.

She hadn’t met her half-brother before today. His nature kept him away, either fighting or at war. All she knew about him had come from stories, so seeing him sitting at a dainty table, sipping tea with three women, had struck her as almost comical. His imposing figure loomed over the delicate setup, and his hands seemed large enough to shatter the fragile cups, but he played the role of a gracious host, and no dishes were broken.

The most prominent feature on his otherwise perfect face was his famed scar, a savage mark that stood out starkly against the tan skin surrounding it. A thick white line ran from eyebrow to jaw, a testament to the brutality in his role as the god of war. She couldn’t help but wonder about the warrior who had given him such a mark - and if they still lived.

He maintained a stoic but polite demeanor, speaking only when necessary, his voice a deep rumble. Persephone felt a subtle intimidation in his presence and found herself frequently studying her cup. His amber-brown, steel-like eyes followed her, and whenever their gazes met, she instinctively lowered her head. The idea that they were related seemed improbable, especially considering her discomfort with human contact, let alone with a colossal god of war.

A hazy voice brought her out of her thoughts; it was low and compelling. She slowly turned towards the source of the noise. “Hm?” She roused herself from her memories.

But the nymphs only splashed around her, busy enjoying the day. It didn’t seem like any of them had been paying her any mind. She blinked away the fog of memories as she watched them.

They had refused clothes, and their breasts were tipped with light blue nipples, a detail that always fascinated her. They glittered softly as the sun glanced off the soft scales.

But the voice returned, and the memory of Narcissus tickled the back of her mind.

She glanced over into the thicket to catch another glimpse of the alluring flower. It was still planted in the center of a nearby meadow, an odd spot for a single flower to grow. It seemed almost out of a painting, she thought; far too beautiful to be real.

She wasn’t sure if she had seen Narcissus before, but the Nymph girl had seemed to recognize it right away. It seemed odd to her, that a goddess of spring hadn’t yet familiarized herself with this flower. Especially a flower of such intoxicating beauty.

It wasn’t right, she told herself. Wasn’t right at all.

Without realizing it, she had climbed up onto the riverbank to get a better view of it. She squinted her eyes as she pushed herself higher onto her hands, balancing herself up on the wet bank. She thought she saw the flower reflect and shimmer in the afternoon sun like it was made of glass, but it was very far away.

She glanced around, noting that the nymphs were distracted and oblivious to the disobedient plan slowly forming inside her head. She knew she wasn’t allowed to leave the water, but what harm could come from just a few moments up the meadow?

Her stomach jumped as she lifted herself completely out of the river. The drops of water that fell to her toes felt heavier than usual, but a giddy smile spread over her face, accompanied by a feeling of mischief that was entirely new to her. Just a few moments, she told herself. Her mother would never even know.

She pushed aside the dark, twisting branches that stood between her and her prize with nervous, eager hands. Her feet eventually left the wet, mulchy earth and landed on soft grass as she made her way out of the riverbed and into the meadow. Each footstep felt loud in her ears as she marched further and further from the water until she broke from the thicket and revealed her skin to Helios.

Her excitement grew with each step closer to the yellow flower, and she began to feel greedy as she pondered all the ways she could preserve the plant, eventually deciding that she would plant a whole row of them in their spring garden. Her mother would surely forgive her recklessness if she could only see the flower's beauty herself. She smiled smugly as she neared it.

She could hear someone calling her name - distant and faded. But the voices vanished as soon as she stopped moving, her eyes turned down towards her feet.

She knelt, feeling dazed and giddy and more than a little breathless. This had been worth it, she told herself. So, so worth it.

The voices came to life again behind her, this time more urgent, but she paid them no heed as she reached out a dainty hand and gently brushed the yellow petals of narcissus. They were soft against her fingertips and she shuddered at the feeling. The flower practically glowed with radiance at her touch, and she felt utterly lost as she gazed upon its beauty. Quickly deciding the risk had been worth it, she grabbed the base of the stem and carefully pulled.

But the flower remained in the ground.

Confused, she pulled a bit harder. Still, it refused to budge.

Deciding that the difficulty in obtaining the flower must definitely coincide with it’s worth, Persephone grabbed the stem with both hands and began to tug at it with all her might. She pulled and pulled until her back began to hurt. To her delight, a small crack appeared in the earth where the flower was rooted, and she doubled her efforts to free the stubborn plant.

As she continued to pull, the tiny crack began to split wider and wider until finally it opened and the flower was yanked free. Persephone fell backwards with a thud, her long red hair splaying wildly about her as she struggled to right herself. After pulling herself up onto her knees, she looked at her hands and beamed at the prize they held.

However, to her horror, the crack in the earth had grown beyond Narcissus. And it was growing, still. She watched with welling panic as it ripped open the earth with a grating sound, and Persephone fell back in fear, the flower dropping from her hands and entirely forgotten. She scrambled backwards as the earth began to tear wider and wider.

She froze in utter terror as a great cavern opened up before her. The earth around it broke into pieces and fell through into a yawning blackness so dark and frightening, she thought no bottom could exist.

She could hear the despondent cries of the water nymphs, trapped to the river, as a strong wind brought a shadow before her - a shadow of a man. It shimmered and morphed until the shadow was no more, and only the man remained.

He stood tall, his black robes whipping in the raging wind the cavern had created. Persephone stopped struggling and beheld the man before her. Not a man - a God.

His skin was as fair as ivory, his hair as dark as raven wings. Shadows soaked the very air around him as he stood above her, his black boots mere feet away from her cowering body. His gaze landed on her, his eyes the color of spilled blood.

“Please.” Her whisper was lost in the roaring of the wind.

His eyes grew cloudy, and the shadows raged around him, wild and unchecked.

The feel of familiar magic suddenly permeated the air, and she tore her gaze from the stranger. Tears stung her cheeks as she frantically looked around, but the gale cascaded the scent in all directions.

Still, she knew that smell. Knew it well.

She was wide-eyed and tearful by the time her mother’s form began to materialize a length away within a cloud of pink flowers. Relief flooded through her as she leaned towards it, the comforting sight of her mother’s face causing tears to flow freely down her face as she prayed for safety.

But then she was being grabbed, and the earth fell away at her feet, sending her and the stranger into endless darkness and far, far away.