Youth Short Story - Second Place

In the dry, dying kingdom of Boeotia, the war between Thebes and Sparta had been won, but there was no celebration—only bones and ash. Food was scarce, and children looked to their parents, who turned to the farmers, who then pleaded with King Bion and Queen Elysia for hope. Hunger was the only feeling left for those who survived the war, making their supposed victory feel hollow.

During the battle's resolution, the Queen had given birth to a daughter who shone like a beacon of hope. However, the war had taken its toll, leaving the princess malnourished. "Oh, my dearest child... Antheia...! She is starving! What good is a victorious war when all we receive is starvation?!" the Queen cried, cradling her bony child against her weakened body. King Bion, helpless, pushed himself up, wincing as the blinding light of the setting sun pierced his weary eyes.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the barren fields, King Bion gathered weary farmers around the temple dedicated to Demeter. The air was thick with despair, each heart heavy with the burdens of an unyielding drought. The king's voice rang out, steady but fraught with urgency. "We must come together to call upon Demeter. We'll gather our remaining crops and present them as an offering, hoping for her mercy! Quickly, now! Before this hunger catches up to us all!"

Days passed, filled with the sombre labour of sacrifice. The villagers pooled half of their meagre harvests, laying them before the altar, their hands trembling with doubt. As the final offering was placed, the silence was deafening. The temple stood still, unresponsive to their pleas. Desperation tightened around the hearts of the people, and doubt began to fester.

In that moment of uncertainty, Queen Elysia felt her heart clench painfully. She clutched her malnourished daughter, Princess Antheia, close, her frail body a reminder of the kingdom's plight. The queen stepped forward, her feet heavy with despair. Suddenly, she fell to her knees before the altar, cradling her child in her trembling arms.

"Demeter," her voice breaking like the brittle ground beneath them. "Please, my daughter needs you! She is starving; we all are! We offer you our crops, our devotion, but nothing matters without her life." Her voice quaked as she felt her throat dry up from the cloud of dust and infertile land around them. As her tears fell onto the cold stone of the altar, a stillness enveloped the scene. The queen, overwhelmed by the weight of her plea, inadvertently presented her daughter to the deity. In her darkest moment, she offered up her child in a final attempt of gaining favour of the goddess and hoping that she'd show them mercy; an act of desperation born from maternal love.

Unbeknownst to the queen, those words struck a chord deep within Demeter. The mention of a daughter, a reflection of her own lost Persephone, pierced through her veil of grief. She looked down upon the dry lands of the kingdom and felt a pang of guilt and sorriness for every hungry face she could see looking back up at her. In that sacred moment between the Goddess of Grain and the mother of an innocent girl, a hidden agreement was forged; one that only Demeter could comprehend. With the weight of a mother's offering and the sadness of a mother's loss hanging in the air, the goddess saw this moment of rescue as her redemption.

The skies began to grey, casting a massive shadow all over Boeotia, causing the people to shout in praise and glee once they began to feel cold rain patter against their skin. As the rain intensified, the queen looked up from the ground and cried tears of thanks and joy while she shielded her daughter from the showers. Suddenly, a golden yellow flower began to bloom at an alarmingly fast rate in front of the altar, causing gasps to echo all around. Then, a separate voice echoed in the mother's head: "Pluck it whole and feed its essence to your daughter in a way she can digest it. This is my blessing to your daughter's health."

Amazed, the mother held her daughter and gently cupped the flower's petals, thanking Demeter before plucking it. "Darling," she smiled at the king, "this flower is a blessing! It's for Antheia! Hurry!" They rushed to the palace as the flower's golden speckles glowed against the slow-beating heart of the sleeping princess.
The flower was soaked in hot milk, turning it a pale yellow, then mixed with oats. The queen spoon-fed it to Antheia. "There you go, darling... eat up." After the first spoonful, Antheia's cheeks and stomach filled out, her body becoming softer and rounder.

It was a grand, life-altering moment. The king laughed with joy, looking up at the gloomy skies to shout his thanks to Demeter, and everyone followed suit. "Today, we mark this day as one of praise for the saviour of the heir! All hail the Goddess of the Grain!" he exclaimed, and the crowd echoed his words.

Demeter looked down, seeing the princess coo and giggle, her innocent smile warming her heart. Her cherub cheeks filled out, and her stomach grew pudgier. Yet, while she had saved the girl, the pain of losing Persephone carved deeper into her chest. Shaking off these thoughts, she smiled at the darling princess. "I'm eager to see you grow with my blessing, my dear..." she murmured. "You'll be a fine flower, my little rosebud. A healer. A child of spring."

As the years pass and Antheia grows like a prosperous bloom, the celebration of Demeter rises on the same day. Gathering, performing, and botany are all central pieces that make up the kingdom of Boeotia on this day. And as for the royal couple's own little miracle, she stands on a wooden stage and begins to proudly display her blessings from Demeter once more.

"Oohs" and "ahhs" are heard all around as Antheia holds sick and injured plants and animals, beginning to heal them in record time while her mother stands from the sidelines. Queen Elysia smiles and beams proudly at her daughter's talents and dedication to devoting herself to the goddess that saved her life. "Thank you, thank you all! Your health is all blessed by the hands of Demeter! Praise be to our goddess!" Antheia exclaims.

As Antheia stood before the crowd, her fingers brushed a sickly plant. Closing her eyes, she called upon Demeter's powers. The leaves twitched, straightened, and turned green. The people cheered as Antheia smiled, feeling life return. Queen Elysia watched, her heart swelling with pride for her daughter.

However, as the crowd dispersed and dusk began to settle over the fields, a cloaked figure moved through the thinning crowd. She approached Antheia quietly, waiting until the princess was alone. The woman's voice, low and hushed, called to her, "Princess... I come seeking your help."

Antheia turned, her gaze settling on the figure. "What do you need?" The woman pulled out a plant, its leaves shrivelled. "It's dying. You can revive it." Antheia knelt, channelling her powers into the plant. Slowly, its leaves turned green. But something felt familiar—the golden speckles, the faint shimmer of life. Recognition hit her. This was the same plant her mother had fed her as a newborn, blessed by Demeter. She gasped, pulling her hands away as memories of her mother's prayers flooded back.

"You've done well, Princess," the woman said, bowing slightly. "What is this?" Antheia asked, her voice shaking. Before she could finish, the woman placed the plant at her feet. "A gift. But remember, all gifts from gods come with a price." Then she disappeared.

As Antheia stared, vines crept from the plant, wrapping around her until she was encased in the growing flora.

"Antheia!" Queen Elysia screamed, rushing to her daughter. The king called for his guards. "Find that woman!" But when the queen tore through the vines, Antheia had vanished, leaving only the glowing plant behind.

Tears streamed down Elysia's face. "Demeter! Why take her from me?"

But there was no answer. Only a cold wind swept through the field, carrying with it the scent of earth and spring. The queen lifted her tear-streaked face, her breath catching in her throat. The once barren land around her was now bursting with life—flowers, crops, and trees were growing in abundance, the fields more fertile than they had ever been.

She realized, with chilling clarity, that Demeter had never intended just to bless the kingdom. The goddess had come to take something in return.

Queen Elysia's heart shattered as the truth set in. Her daughter had been the price, traded for the kingdom's prosperity. Demeter had claimed Antheia as her own, a replacement for her lost daughter, Persephone. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the rustle of the flourishing leaves in the wind.

Boeotia's people would never starve again, but their princess—their healer—was gone.