I had learned a spell for flight
over my years of witchcraft.
So I rose to the top of the mountain
and gazed down to search within
the depth of Tartarus.
At first I did not see him
among his dazed brothers
and cousins. But then
I saw him. Huge and glowing,
still covered in ichor,
he was walking out
of his prison, safe.
I willed him to look up,
to see me one last time.
But he did not. I stayed as long as I could
and just as I was about to leave,
I heard a voice behind me say,
‘Did you doubt Zeus
would keep his word?’
I turned to see Hermes
flying behind me,
a large set of ichor-covered keys
in his hand. He grinned at me.
‘I freed them myself, Hekate.’
I smiled slightly back at him,
my exhaustion starting
to make my spell wane.
‘Thank you, Hermes.’
He nodded, and as I was
about to fly away, he said,
