#annesa

Annesa hummed in acknowledgement, and glanced at Hephnie, “You want me to come back to Hell with you?”

“I never said anything about that.”

“S’not often of you to watch me so closely, Hephnie, not unless you’re missing me.”

Hephnie felt her face heat up again. She looked away, towards the corn field, and she felt Annesa’s yellow eyes tearing into the back of her head.

“You know I can’t ever stay long. I don’t want the crops to die.”

“We’re in the later half of autumn,” Hephnie pointed out softly. “You could stay over the winter.”

“It’s bad luck.” Annesa knew she was being cold, and maybe even unfair, but she didn’t want anything to happen to the farmers and their villages. Her mother assured her that they’d done fine before Annesa was born, even in the wintertime, but the young Goddess didn’t want to risk it.

“What’s luck to a God?”

Hephnie finally looked back at Annesa, their eyes meeting and having a silent battle. A silent plea, and silent defiance. Finally, Annesa gave in a looked away, a heavy sigh leaving her as she scanned the now empty fields.

“I’ll go with you, but I’m going to come up to the surface every few days and check on things.”

Hephnie’s frown lifted into a soft smile. She took Annesa’s warm hands into hers, and pressed their foreheads together. Annesa let herself smile, too, and she shut her eyes as they stood there together.

“Let me pack some of my things,” Annesa said, pulling away from Hephnie, “Then we’ll go.”

The other Goddess nodded and adjusted her sunhat, turning away from the setting sun. Annesa pulled out her staff, glowing white with three sharp points at the end, and let it carry her off to her home, the Palace of the Pantheon. She gathered the warmest clothing she had, thick coats, pants, and gloves, and packed some food to keep her at her strongest in the under.

She walked down her mother’s hall of the large palace. It was technically hers as well, but only the Spring Goddess, Korack’s, statue stood at the end of it. Korack was nowhere to be found, so Annesa found some paper and left a note, asking her mother to contact her if anything went wrong with the Mesonians’ harvests of this year while she was gone.

Finally, she felt ready to go down to the under with Hephnie. She looped the strap of the bag holding her supplies over her staff, and lifted the staff onto her shoulder. While most of the older Gods disliked using human technology, Annesa and Hephnie were much younger, and had cellphones of their own. Annesa pulled hers out and texted Hephnie that she was ready. In a nearby wall, the outline of a door formed, glowing a deep red.