“All the gods and goddesses have begged her to come to her senses,” Hermes said. “We are all losing followers, more day by day.”

“And my fields are swelling with shades. The queues for judgment are becoming unmanageable,” Hades said. “What if I were to reject them all, send them pouring back into the mortal world? Demeter is not the only one among us who could bring civilization to ruin.”

Persephone’s face paled. “But you would never.”

“I am sorely tempted,” Hades snapped.

“I brought a witness.” Hermes gestured toward the door. “If you’d permit me.”

“Persephone has already questioned the dead,” Hades said.

“All the same. I believe you should hear this for yourself.”

At Hades’ nod, Hermes went to the door and admitted a mortal, one of the newly dead. He had the brightness of one who still thought himself among the living, and though his frame was gaunt, his clothes were fine and trimmed with embroidery.

At Hermes’ prodding, he walked before them and fell to his knees, bowing his head. “O great Hades, Host of Many, Savior of the Dead—”

“On with it,” Hades said.

The man bit his lip. “O Queen, my name is Chalcodon. I was the magistrate of Oropus. When the harvests failed last year, we were penitent. We sacrificed our best steers and goats in Demeter’s name; we cleaned her temples and had the priests sprinkle sacred water over the barren earth. Everyone went hungry that year, but Poseidon took pity upon us and filled our nets, and we had enough.”

Persephone glanced at Hades. Her expression betrayed nothing, and she gestured for Chalcodon to continue.

“This summer has been cruel and scorching. Scarcely half our fields had sprouted, and what grew soon withered beneath the intensity of the blazing heat. We struggled to find enough pasture for our flocks and were forced to slaughter many before their time. My daughters’ children were stillborn and tiny, stunted by their mothers’ hunger.”

Chalcodon paused to take a breath, his eyes glimmering. “We still pray to Demeter, though many say she has abandoned us, but there is nothing left to sacrifice. People clash in the street over a scrap of flour, and even the rats have abandoned our cities, hunted and slain by starving families. Order has collapsed. When a man’s wages cannot feed one person, let alone six, what point is there in work? We must have sustenance,” Chalcodon said, wringing his hands. “Please, O Queen. It is too late for me, but perhaps the rest in my city can still be saved.”

Silence reigned. Chalcodon kept his gaze meekly downcast, his hands on his knees trembling from their combined divine presence.

“I have heard your words,” Hades said. “You may go.”

Chalcodon gratefully climbed to his feet and left, the door creaking shut behind him.

“You see why you must concede,” Hermes said.