P. Hoover - Solstice

I’m not sure if I agree with this logic, but I doubt Shayne wants to argue about it with me. Besides, he’s the one in control here, not me.

He turns back to Rhadam. “Thanks for watching my back.”

Rhadam nods.

And then Shayne reaches out for my fingers and intertwines his with them, rubbing his thumb softly on the back of my hand. “Are you ready?”

“Are we leaving?” Not that I mind. As charming as Rhadam is, the conversation has put a certain chill into the air, even here in paradise. A chill of gods and battles over mythical domains.

Shayne nods.

“I’ll see what else I can find out,” Rhadam says. He looks at me, and his smile from the atrium returns. “Piper, can I just say how great it is to finally meet you?”

I nod, and when he takes my hand and kisses it, I feel like I’m on a stage with a million eyes watching me.

“It was great meeting you, too. Maybe I’ll be back sometime,” I say.

Rhadam nods and looks to Shayne. “It’s a pretty nice place to come visit.”

Shayne actually laughs, and a giant weight lifts off my chest, returning the atmosphere to one of fun. He grins at Rhadam. “Especially if you’re overseeing Elysium.”

Rhadam lets go of my hand. “It’s a hard job, but I sacrifice for the greater good.” And then, once again, Rhadam vanishes.

“So what did I miss?” I ask Shayne.

“Nothing,” he says. It has to be a lie. He must not want me to know. And, of course, this only makes me more curious. I’ll find a way to figure it out.

Paradise is perfect, but Chloe is waiting for me. “Are we going?” I ask.

“Almost,” Shayne says, and he leads me down from the hill. I guess he’s still trying to convince me to let Chloe come here. He must know by now it’s pointless. Or maybe he’s just trying to stall for time. If this is the case, I can’t say I mind much.

We walk until we reach a path of manicured greenery. Trees have grown along the sides, forming a tall arbor with a grass walkway below. It slopes downward, and water bubbles in a stream at the bottom. The green is so vibrant, so different from the world I know back above ground. That world hangs on the edge of extinction. And this world thrives. It’s ironic how the world of the living is dying, and the land of the dead is alive.

Shayne grabs my hand, and out of nowhere bounds Cerberus, who knocks into Shayne and sends us both flying. After I wipe my face from Cerberus’s exuberant licking, we get up and stroll down the path, Cerberus leading the way. He stops every so often to snap at a passing bird with one or all of his heads, but either has really bad aim, or isn’t trying all that hard to catch one.

Once we’re out of the arbor, we reach a stream which flows over rocks in a white froth until it clears them and settles into an even flow. To the left is the source of the water—a waterfall cascading down from a small cliff cut into a hill. The sun catches the water, reflecting a blaze of light around the entire valley. Vines climb up the rocks on the side of the falls, creating curtains that bloom with vibrant flowers. Mist hangs in the air above the crash of the water, forming a cloud of rainbows which holds steady even as the mist within it shifts and settles.

With each step I take, I want to move to the Underworld and stay here forever. To have Chloe actually come to paradise. To make it my new Botanical Haven away from the stifling presence of my mom. To live with Shayne forever. I follow him off into the trees, and pretty soon we come to a clearing which is planted with all sorts of orange and purple and electric blue flowers. Saffron yellow. Cherry red. Vibrant colors. Colors I love.

I look at Shayne. “This is your garden?”

“It’s a new hobby. I’ve only been at it for a few years.”

I walk into the center of the garden and look at the abundance of life sprouting out of the Earth around me. “And I thought I could grow things.”

He walks over and joins me. “But there is this one that won’t grow.”

Around me is nothing but life. I smell each plant. I almost hear nectar pumping through stems, feeding them. But then I catch it—the smell of death, here in this beautiful garden. So misplaced that, as soon as I smell it, all other aromas go away. I close my eyes, and begin walking, following my instincts, and pretty soon I find myself in front of a tree which, although still alive, is not in bloom like the rest of the garden. It seems to be coated in a thick layer of yellowish green mucus, though when I reach my hands out to touch it, the mucus disappears. It reminds me of the disappearing mold I’ve been seeing on people back in the outer world. I wonder if both are an illusion that gives some sense of what is inside.

“A pomegranate tree?”

Shayne nods and reaches up to touch a branch with green leaves. “It won’t produce fruit.”

I run my hands over the bark. At home, in the Botanical Haven, I can nurse almost anything back to life. I can make fruit grow from even the ficklest of breeds. My mom says it’s been that way since I was born.

The pomegranate tree is breathing. I feel it under my palms. But it’s missing…something. Something fertile in the soil hasn’t made its way to the roots. Or has been removed entirely.

“I built the garden around it,” Shayne says.

I hear him but don’t turn. “What happened?”

In his voice, I hear the resignation. “It just started dying.”

Slowly, I turn. “The soil around it is empty.”

“I do fertilize.” Shayne seems to be reading my thoughts.

“Then why isn’t it working?”

He shrugs. “I figured you could ask the tree.”

I again place my palms on the hard bark. It seems to tell me it’s missing a vital ingredient, but I soon realize maybe this isn’t quite the truth. I recognize something, and suddenly, I feel like falling to the ground and crying. In my mind, I’m walking in a field. And aside from the grass which reaches well past my knees, the pomegranate tree stands alone. Awake. Aware. And bursting with life.

The branches hang low to the ground, plump with fruit. Light radiates from it as I draw close. I take a few steps closer until I can brush the bark with my hand. So healthy. So unlike the reality of what I’ve felt.

I lift my hand and reach for a fruit. It pulls against my touch, but then it gives and comes loose in my hand. It’s the color of red wine, and I peel it until I can see the seeds inside.

And then, all at once, I’m being pulled from the tree. I reach out toward it, but it’s moving away, and so am I. Leaves fall and fruit begins to drop. I’m so far away the tree is only a brown shape in the distance. Oppression hits the tree like a fist. And I’m back in the garden of flowers with Shayne.

I take my hands off the tree and turn to Shayne.

“I thought you said there was no sadness here in the Elysian Fields.”

“There’s not. At least, there isn’t supposed to be.”

“This tree is full of sorrow.” I think of the River Acheron. And deep inside me, the origins of the sorrow twist and form, growing like roots. I grab Shayne’s eyes with my own and hold them. “Why is this tree sad?”

I see tears in the corners of his brown eyes; they shine when the red flashes. “A lot of the Underworld is sad. We’ve been that way for years.” He looks away and reaches out to touch a nearby red flower.

A breeze blows through the valley.

“Should we go now?” Shayne asks.

I nod because the initial happy thoughts of paradise have vanished. I’m trying to hold onto them, but the tree’s dug its sorrowful roots inside my soul. We walk out of the garden and head back the way we came. It’s only when I see Cerberus’s three heads looking our way that my sorrow begins to diminish. I push it away, but part of it sticks, as if echoes of the sadness will never leave me. Like it’s a part of me I’ll never understand.