Persephone V: de-vision

Only in the darkness after the rhombuses of Phaeton's reflected fury had faded did Persephone see Hades, and like the light, the brightness of his visits had lessened.
Persephone herself had begun the tricky business of trying to translate the stories of creatures to one another, telling them as best she could, but she was just learning. It was exhausting but rewarding; elves, salamanders, spiders, and satyrs loved to hear their stories, particularly their own, but there were always a few who were never satisfied. Could've been better, said the trolls, but they never did try it themselves.
As consuming as the stories were, Persephone had vowed to always make time for Hades, and he was always in her heart. But the demands on the king were so great that he often forgot her in the heat of his life, and she was left behind. Although he said he loved her, Persephone saw less of him and more and more her decision to stay caused her heartache that crept into her eyes and her stomach. A line of tension split her brow now, and her shoulders curved inward as though trying to protect the heart she had already given away.
Here, said Hades, seeing her distress, maybe this will help, and handed her something red. Is it your heart? she asked. No, he said smiling. In her hands she held a large crimson pomegranate.
As she held it, a picture grew in her mind: Hades sat in the shade of an enormous single leaf growing from a plant rooted beneath the ground. The sprout was a woman, a womb that grew the seed, the vital connection between solitary Hades and another figure deep beneath the ground: a man with no skin crying endless tears. In a moment, Persephone knew this was Hades, the sensitive man hidden in the earth who the ruling king could only connect with through the vessel of a woman. Her heart broke open as she split the pomegranate and chose six seeds, taking it all in. In the darkness, she knew the injunction: if you consume anything offered in the hidden kingdom, you are then bound to it. Eyes closed, seeing everything, she put the seeds in her mouth, teeth crushing the blood of the fruit into her. Yes, she said.
As days and nights worked seamlessly into each other, Persephone watered the seeds with tears of frustration and confusion. Hades became a shade, slipping further away into the life he had kept separate from hers and Persephone wandered, bringing him what she found. Look, she said, I found these amazing creatures that live next to me. Would you like to meet them? No, said Hades, they aren't anything I'd like, I'm sure. I'm sorry, she said, confused, I don't want to push. Sometimes you have to push, said Hades. Mind tied now in knots, Persephone said nothing.
One day as she was wandering alone she saw came upon a pool she had never seen before. Lapping waves of light slipped over the cliffs near the pool, condensing into bands of brightness and expanding apart. The brightness captivated her, but the beams that brought it here was untraceable. No motes lit up to show the path of the light's travel to the underground. Persephone skirted the edge of the pool (bodies of water in Hel could be treacherous, causing deaths of all kinds to the no longer living), peering in. For all the jumping light, there was no motion on the surface which lay as still as a mirror.
On the still plane, she saw herself for what seemed to be the first time in years: now, grey licked up her temples and a large dent resided between her brows. How long had she been here? Leaning closer, Persephone dropped the open pomegranate into the water and a drop splashed onto her lip. As she fished the halves out, she opened her mouth to the bead of water.