Her curiosity got the better of her.
Psyche had been told in no uncertain terms not to open the jar. But what harm could a little peek do? It wasn’t like she was going to drink the stuff; she just wanted to see it. Well, that’s not entirely true. Beauty. It was supposed to be bottled beauty. Now, she wasn’t a dog by any means, but who could resist the lure of Divine Beauty? She could be as stunning as a god, as breathtaking as Proserpina herself.
She uncorked the jar, and before she could take another breath, darkness gushed out of the vessel. Shadows enveloped her face. Wisps gently caressed her cheek, then rushed into her mouth and up her nostrils, cloying and suffocating. She grabbed at her throat, scrabbling at nothing. The shadows passed through her fingers as if they were air. They weren’t air. They weren’t air at all.
She tried to hold her breath, tried to expel the darkness from her, but it was all around. She gasped it into her lungs, and the eternal Stygian night filled her up.
She fell.
Arms flailing, legs kicking, she tried to catch herself, but there was nothing to support her. Her mind tumbled just as much as her body. Venus’ words came back to her, urging her to “repress all curiosity”, but she was curious by nature. Venus knew that. She played her. Psyche could almost believe Venus and Mercury had teamed up.
Her body was light, but her mind was dark. She seemed to float in the air. Where was she? Was she dead? Was this the underworld? Was Dis Pater looming over her, ready to pull her away from the rivers and down deep? Was that Cerberus’ gnashing teeth puncturing her arm?
Sound came back. A voice burbled near her, but she couldn’t make out the words. Something was touching her face; she tried to brush it off, but her arms wouldn’t work. They were heavy and limp and didn’t seem to do what she told them to.
Her right arm hurt. Why did it hurt?
Words broke through.
“—Psyche! Psyche, wake up, please, wake up.” The thing touching her face was gentle. It moved over her cheek. She could breathe again. Her breath was back, the air was back. “It’s okay, baby, I’ve got you. Come back to me.”
Her eyes fluttered open, blinking in the glaring light.
“That’s it, come on, Psyche, come back to me.”
“Cupid?” Her voice cracked.
“Yeah, baby, it’s me. I’m here, you’re okay.”
“Cupid? I can’t… I don’t… What…”
“It’s alright, shhh.” His thumb grazed over her cheekbone, swiping away a tear. “Don’t worry, everything’s fine, you’re fine.”
She swallowed, trying to work some life back into her throat. It was raw and sharp. She must have been screaming. Her gaze skittered to the amphora on the rock beside them, and she tried to scramble away, her eyes bulging and heart thundering. Cupid gathered her into his arms, his white, feathered wings wrapping around the pair of them.
“You’re safe, Psyche. It’s gone. The darkness is back in the jar; it can’t hurt you.”
“It’s gone?”
“It’s gone.”
“You saved me?”
“I pulled the night of Styx out of you and sealed it away again. I’m sorry about your arm. I had to jab it with one of my arrows to wake you up. It’s going to be alright. You’re fine, it’s gone, I’m here.”
“You saved me.” She curled into his body, sighing as his scent enveloped her. She was safe.
