The White Rose Shall Bloom Again

“One hundred years. For me, it was the blink of an eye...”

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Hyphera had lived in Elysium since she and the other deities had destroyed the Titans eons before. From her temple home, she looked out at the lakes of sky below the stretch of the hills to the east. Above them, the blue sky was thin, and so the darkness of an amethyst night studded with sparkling stars lay visible like the depths of an ocean. Her Valley of Clouds was just that – a deep valley located between emerald mountains, existing so high above the mortal realm that often clouds would blanket the lowest elevations like pools of spilled milk. There had been peace there for so long, that when strife occurred, she had almost forgotten how to handle it.

The Valley of Clouds was her domain, just as the Greeks below had islands, so too did the gods have their castles in the sky, each separated by stretches of cloud through which they sailed on golden ships. Many of her priestesses lived with her there, each devoted to her body and soul. Yet, when the Princess Iodora of Eroba was brought against her will by Hyphera’s itinerant husband and lord of gods Altadeus, Hyphera knew she saw her true love – the girl, not the bull she married to keep the Elysium united. Iodora, milk white. Iodora, with eyes of pale lavender, pink of nose, a cow as gentle as the petals of a white Athenian rose.

Yes, it was her she loved. It was her she had watched. Hyphera had spent many days perched on the edge of her whitestone temple upon a bench between two columns decorated in gold. From there, she had gazed down upon the mortals to view their lives with pride and occasional amusement, but fascination most of all. When she first saw Iodora, she was a princess of twenty years, a full, cared-for figure and an average height. The princess conducted herself with such grace, such patience. She never spoke out of turn, she never plotted, she never said an untoward word to anyone. No, where other nobility concerned themselves with their riches, their marriages, or their power, Princess Iodora concerned herself with the hunger of her people. To Hyphera’s astonishment, this girl, this Princess who could have her every need fulfilled, who could have any jewel or dress she wanted, instead spent her time baking and gathering honey and milk to bring to the hungry and the infirm.

When Hyphera discovered her husband had not only kidnapped the girl but cursed her to death for refusing him, she was furious. Hyphera was tall and thin, graceful like a wisp of air, but she had a terrible rage suited for the queen of the gods. She excoriated the wicked man and banished him from the Valley of Clouds for one thousand years.

“Do not call upon me,” she had said, “I shall call upon you.”

They were left well alone. For the first time, Iodora saw her matron goddess. Hyphera was the woman she had devoted her life to – her best qualities, those of generosity, of femininity, were the ones to which Iodora had adhered. Though she was not a Sister of Hyphera, a priestess, she knew the rituals and rites, and she knew every story. She had studied well at a Temple of Hyphera on Eroba. None were as dedicated to Hyphera as she. The queen of the gods was a cow too, yes, an shining white cow who had hunted the Titans in the early days, before the world had settled into its shape. She wore a circlet wrapped in leaves of the golden laurel upon her brow. Her nose was black and her eyes the color of storms clouds on the coldest of days. A halo of light surrounded her shoulders and the feathers of peacocks decorated her shimmering silver stola. When Iodora first saw her, she cried, for she had met the Goddess she had praised her entire life on the very day when she was fated to die. Altadeus had cursed her to die at sunrise.

Though Iodora was a gentle cow, she did not beg. She had a pride hidden away inside her, the pride of a princess. She accepted her fate, quietly, absolutely, for she knew the word of gods could not be broken. It was the same word that had turned people into laurel trees and narcissus flowers.

Hyphera was beside herself, and while she thought of what to do, she took the mortal’s hand and shepherded her through the temple. Iodora almost could not appreciate the soaring walls and columns, the gilded colonnades and friezes showing women at every task, celebrating them. Soon, Hyphera and the princess sat in a secluded balcony overlooking the Aegean Sea far below. 

“I am happy,” Iodora said softly, though tears.  “because I shall watch my last sunrise with you.”

“No, it shall not come to pass,” Hyphera said suddenly. Her voice seemed to echo itself, it was sweet as music, a chord played on a lyre. “Though I cannot break the curse, I may yet change it. You, my beauty, shall sleep. To escape your divine death, you shall sleep for one hundred years. Worry not for your people – I shall care for them. When you wake, you shall fulfill your destiny as my betrothed, my vestal sacrifice, my eternal consort.”

Iodora nodded, and the goddess wiped her tears. The sun rose as the two embraced. For Iodora, it was her first kiss, the beginning of her destiny. She closed her eyes and their lips met. Moments after, Hyphera was holding the limp, sleeping body of the bovine maiden, gently laying her down upon the curved bench. She had fallen into her slumber, the first rays of the sun causing the divine sleep to fall over her eyes like a golden shade. Sleeping so, she was to Hyphera the most pristine beauty, a mortal who outshone even the gods, who beat them at their own game of vanity by being selfless and unconcerned.

Hyphera new she must protect her.

As she slumbered, Hyphera drew her up into her arms. Her limbs and head hung limply, for nothing would wake her. Following the path from her temple, Hyphera trekked alone through the cloudy valleys until she came to the base of Mount Diade. There, she climbed one thousand marble steps toward the sky, up where it was thinnest and the darkness of the sparkling night was always settled like a peaceful black beast. In this secluded place did Hyphera settle her inside a domed gazebo, a lattice overhead allowing the moon goddess, Salune, to guard her. Gazing down at the cow, Hyphera pined for her love, but she knew she must wait. To mark the time, she opened her hands and from the soil sprouted the bodies of white roses, climbing up around the columns and through the lattice. The buds hung from the plant, full and round. Hyphera knelt beside Iodora, gently stroking her fair, pearly hair.

“When the white rose blooms again, then will you awaken, my love.”

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“One hundred years,” Iodora said, smiling placidly. “For me, it was the blink of an eye.”