Part 100

Even in his torture, Pluto swims in desperate search for Persephone. But the dark green waters hide their prey.

And then he sees her!

Quickly, thrashing his way to the drowning girl, Pluto dives beneath the murky depths. He lifts her from the water's deadly embrace. Cradled in Pluto's arms, her face white above the dark surface, she seems more dead than living. Thrashing the deadly waves Pluto brings her to the shore.

Demo raises the broken sword high, waiting!

Pluto stalks onto the shore carrying her like a doll, gently, in his huge arms. Turning to Demo, Pluto growls in the angry voice he could not renounce, "Save her." He lays her softly on the ground, lays her gently on the sandy beach.

Throwing aside the sword Demo falls to his knees beside the child.

Demo turns her on her stomach , ministers to her. And finally he is rewarded by the slightest movement, a sign of life. Soon she begins to cough, to breathe.

Pluto stands quietly, watching. What on another creature might have been a smile touches his lips. On his cheek a trickle of liquid. Water from the Tarn of Eternity?

"She lives." He utters, half question, half statement.

"Yes, she lives."

There was no question now. The tears were real.

For a moment Pluto turns away, then turns once more to look at her. "I grant you your life, earthling. Care for her. Help her, human. For this I spare your life. Quickly, now, for as I forecast, the Tarn of Eternity is quenching the fires of hell, and quenching the very life from me. Yet I pass on willingly, that she may live."

He pauses, looks out toward the center of the Tarn.

"These waters, as foretold, have destroyed me."

Though Demo had paid attention only to Persephone, he had still noted the horrible oozing of Pluto's blood from a thousand wounds.

"It is over. I go to my fate. Tell her this. With her departure, what hope in Hades dwelt no longer lingers. And tell her, that in my own way, I loved and love her still."

He turns.

With a dignity born of valor he wades into the dark waters, marches stolidly into the ravenous waters that swirl and froth and tear at his body. Their waves lap ever higher until, silently, he disappears beneath the surface, into their clouded depths.

And, though he were a denizen of Hell, one could but think, 'True love deserves better.'

Quickly Demo turned to the maiden. In those few moment her breathing once more has ceased. Loosing her bodice he turns her over, lets the dank water seep from her lips.

Almost he gives up hope. And then she once more stirs, moans.

She moves, half sat, wide-eyed. Gently he holds her hand.

She looks wildly around.

"Where is he? Is he gone?"

He told her of Pluto's last words, of how Pluto died - evil, misshapen, cast out from the heavens. Of how he knowingly cast himself into the deadly waters of the Tarn of Eternity for her sake.

Hated by all. Destroyed, though, not by any of these, not by the power of his enemies. Destroyed by the one small touch of goodness left in him, the ability to love.

Bemused she looked at the now placid surface of the tarn.

Pensively she gazed at the quiet, dark waters. And though she is silent he noted the quiet tears upon her cheeks. Then she rose slowly, walked to the water's edge, and reached out to a green weed growing there.