Zeus
I have endless hours to do endless things differently, and still, I fail.
I stare out to sea, watching for the moment Hera lands on Aeaea. Her new prison. Her high throne, where she’ll rule as queen over a monster, a mindless horde, and a magical garden without exit. Disgust floods me. Not for her—though it’ll take decades to swallow my anger over her damage to Atlantis and to the Underworld—but for me. The betrayals of this day lay my faults and failures bare.
I hear the humans talking, humans I did care more about than my own sons who stabbed me in the back today. But some are eternal. Others aren’t, and their very fleetingness makes them so interesting. What can a person accomplish in a lifetime? The miniscule timeframe makes it infinitely fascinating to see how hard they work, how fiercely they struggle, how passionately they love.
“We’re safe,” I hear the Firebringer whisper to her husband. They signed no documents in any temple, but I witnessed their claiming and blessed their bond with the gift of immunity to her magic for him and an echo of the shard’s power existing in him for her. Both already served them.
“We’re together,” he murmurs back. I hear his heart beating ferociously. For her. For them. For Atlantis, too.
That makes me glad.
My own heart beats in the seemingly empty cavern of my chest. Safe and together. That’s all they ultimately want, in this life and in the afterlife.
“I can’t believe it’s over,” she says.
Carver chuckles. Humor is another thing humans hold on to, sometimes against all odds, and even when the sound is hoarse and cracked. “Did you want it to last?”
I smile, too. I’m not sure how. Maybe their interactions give me hope. After all, they hated each other for a while.
A bright light finally flashes on the landmass in the distance. Hera and Hephaestus reaching their new home.
I feel the joy explode in the Firebringer’s hot, magic-charged blood. She’s regaining her strength, and happiness can only help. “Oh my gods, Carver. If Hera went to Aeaea, and that was the god bolt dropping her off…”
Ah. Even without magic to connect us, I feel the joy bursting inside Carver, as well. They understand things quickly, these two. Except concerning their soul bond. That took ages—in human terms. “Then didn’t raise Atlantis wherever it used to be. He raised it near Circe’s island.” Carver exhales sharply, his smile blinding, even with my back to them and my eyes on Hera’s new throne. I also scan the ocean for my brother. He’s the one who raised the island. We chose the location together. “We’re a boat ride from home.”
Her smile blinds me, too. I see it on the inside, so bright and pure, from this human, who for years, never smiled with any true joy at all. “We’ll see our family again.”
“You’re my family,” he says instantly. I listen, interested, because I seem to have lessons to assimilate in the ways of pleasing a wife.
“I know.” I hear their kiss even though the sound is just a whisper of lips. “But now, we can have both.”
I stare southward toward Aeaea, even my eyesight improved from the potency of Atlantis’s worshippers. I can thank them for my victory today. Them, and the allies who came to my aid. A son, three daughters, and two brothers who have never failed me. Maybe because I’ve relied on them regularly and made them feel seen.
My throat thick with more emotion than I’ve felt in centuries, I turn to Apollo. “You did good work today.”
He shrugs, his beauty striking, even to me. “I missed the battle.”
“You waged a different one, and it was important to me. It’s not an easy feat, what you did. No human bit by an Olympian viper has ever lived. You had your own battle on your hands, and you won.”
Frowning thoughtfully, Apollo glances at the humans. “Why are they so important to you?”
I’m not sure how to answer. Maybe I don’t exactly know. I place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze. “They inspire me. I’m the ancient one, but from them, sometimes, I learn.”
I wonder if my son will scoff at me, but he simply nods. “Maybe I’ll take to watching humans, too. It seems interesting.”
Something in my chest shifts. Perhaps, I haven’t failed every son of mine. “Go to the temples,” I tell him. “Help with the injured. Save who you can and gift an obol to anyone who’s already gone if they’re not in possession of one. You’ll long be worshipped in Atlantis. It will bring you great strength for decades to come.” Apollo nods, turns, and strides across the rubble-strewn square.
I frown at the damage to the heart of Atlantapol. Rough and pitted ground. Ruined temples. Battered buildings. Blackened trees. Stones and wreckage all around. The dead, scattered across the square.
I’ll have to remedy this somehow. It’s Hera’s fault, so inadvertently mine.
I turn to Athena and Artemis next. Perhaps the fact that they’ve eschewed mates makes them still feel like true children of mine. They belong to no one else—except themselves. “You are my heart and joy. Thank you for your help today.”
They both look shocked. Artemis hides it better. Athena gapes at me. I suppose I don’t say things like that enough. Again, humans are teaching me to stop holding back my affection and my words. One day, it might simply be too late, and I don’t want to miss my chance.
I look toward Aeaea again, my heart heavy with regrets.
“Father?” Athena draws my attention back to them.
“Go to your temples. Welcome your people and listen to their prayers and thanks. You’ll also find a great and long-lasting asset in the love you’ve gained here today.”
They dip their heads in respect and leave. And now, there’s only Hades and his impertinent wife—another daughter of mine. Unable to tame a proud smile—and understanding it’s best not to anyway—I shake my head at Persephone.
Her brows lift back at me. “Am I not your heart and joy?”
I laugh—hoarse and cracked. The surprise of it makes me even more grateful for this bold daughter of mine. “You’re my brother’s heart and joy.” I glance at her new dog, the hound’s white coat painted bloodred all down her throats. She still licks her chops, three huge tongues dripping acid slobber. “You keep me on my toes, and that is gift enough.”
Her mouth thins, hiding a smile, but her blue eyes warm. “How long until you visit Hera on Aeaea?”
“You go too far,” I scold, that empty cavern in my chest filling with a burst of heat unlike anything I’ve felt in centuries.
Persephone doesn’t back down. She never does. “I saw the look on her face when you ended your marriage. And I saw the look on yours.”
And what look was that? I wonder what Persephone saw, even though the tight, twisting weight in my abdomen tells me all.
Hades steps forward. “We’ll be going now. We have our own troubles to deal with in the Underworld, but just call out from your side of the Styx if you need us.” Darkly, he adds, “Or we’ll call you.”
I nod. “Take care, Brother. There’s still treachery afoot.”
“Yes, well, maybe you shouldn’t have dumped Perses in our laps,” Persephone mutters.
“Do you want me to hit you with a god bolt, too?” I snap.
She scoffs. “After everything I’ve done for you? Don’t make empty threats, Father. It’ll make people—and gods—less inclined to listen to you.”
My eyes narrow, but I feel no anger at her words and recognize their truth. Persephone—my force of nature. No one except Hera has ever challenged and changed me the way she has. “I sometimes think it’s a good thing we don’t share a kingdom. I’m not sure we’d live in peace.”
A smile cracks through her cool veneer. “See? Some things work out for the best.” She pauses, her expression softening. “Maybe others will, too.”
Will they? All I can do is breathe deeply and concentrate on the present, because I might already regret Hera’s punishment otherwise.
Hades claps me on the shoulder. “And let’s hope we still have a kingdom in the days to come.”
I certainly hope that, too. I’ve done what I can, having unlocked another key soulmate bond in a dying man months ago when I felt vague unrest and the shadows of deception stirring everywhere. A fated pair can help save both men and gods. We’ve seen it. In Thalyria. In Atlantis. Maybe next, in the Underworld.
Soulmates can destroy us, too, if one is a powerful enough Magoi. Hera almost paid that price.
Hades and Persephone say goodbye. They leave after a nod toward the humans, who watch our every move and don’t dare move themselves. Keres follows them back beneath the mortal plane, leaving behind the pungent scents of fresh kills and blood-wet fur.
With no one left between us, my gaze fixes on the humans. Two younger couples and an older one. They fought for each other today as well as for Atlantis. More emotion stirs in my chest, proving just how invested I’ve become in certain mortal lives and in the welfare of my worlds. For better, hopefully. I’d loathe for it to be for worse.
Bellanca, my fire warrior, draws the eye like none other. Even when magic doesn’t fly from her, she burns. I don’t have another smile in me right now, but I soften. A queen earns her kingdom, and I find that the Firebringer has more than earned hers. It pains me to leave it in ruins, so with a wave of my hand, I gather the loose rock and dirt and dust and branches in this temple square and send it all out to sea, far beyond where the great barrier used to be. Next, I repair the harbor wall, leaving the burn mark that was Eryx. After, I restore the temples, buildings, and statues around the square, reversing the damage the battle wrought. The humans watch me, fascinated, grateful, and amazed. Yet I do nothing special.
Or perhaps I do when I obliterate the rest of Hera’s temple, send the rubble beneath the waves, and grow an instantly mature olive grove in its place.
Peace. Nourishment. Shade.
I gather the dead from Hera’s attack and line them up in rows beneath the olive trees, their bodies shrouded and ready for burial, an obol in each hand. The Firebringer saved many lives, but not all of them. Atlantis rose again, but mourning will weigh it down for years.
My humans walk toward the olive grove to look at it along with others from around the temple square, and with them safely away from the blood-stained altar, I reshape the slab and pillars into something new. The white marble, still stained red in places, becomes the tall statue of a woman standing before the high wall. Dressed like any Atlantian woman might be, she holds a fishing net in one hand and a bouquet of orange blossoms in the other. Sea stars crown her forehead. Nereid adorned waves wash her toes. She will be a memorial for Atlantians, who must remember their darkest generations just as I must remember what I let happen here for too long.
The one who was stabbed upon the altar sobs when she sees the statue, her blood that painted swirl. A man takes her in his arms. I will bless their union, too, because Hera’s sacred duties must be mine now. She’ll have no sight or reach beyond Aeaea. Her world is limited now to her island shores.
I walk toward my group of humans as they gather again at the statue, because I doubt they’ll dare come to me. Atlantians watch me, crowding the square. My power grows even stronger, magic still filling my endless wells. They’re grateful here despite my role in their tragedies. Are they also disappointed to see how similar we are to them? The same troubles, the same joys, the same heartbreaks and healing. And just like them, we make the same mistakes over and over until we finally learn.
The Firebringer wipes stone dust and the sting of magic off her skin as if trying to make herself presentable for me when I see nothing but strength and loyalty. Their pulses are all chaotic and drumming, and I hear Hera’s heartbeat again in my ancient ears. Did it accelerate when our lips touched? Mine did.
But she would have destroyed a kingdom of men to be a queen of gods. There was no world in which I could let that happen.
I stand before the Firebringer. Bellanca Atlantis. I have little to say now that all has been done, though there is still one matter left unresolved. “To live unhappy and die young is unjust under any circumstances. You believe Cleito was the victim of Hera’s Olympianomachy, but my brother and I have a gift for you.” Her eyes, the color of the sea around Atlantis, widen. Her lips part, but on a breath she holds, waiting, and I dim the lightning in my eyes to show their true color. A clear, light green, the very hue of Olympian magic. “My Chaos Wizard did die, but a powerful seer was born. I give you back Cleito, your sister.”
That breath she holds rushes out. “My sister?” She looks out to sea, where Poseidon rises from the surf. A thin, red-haired woman sits between two prongs of his great, golden trident, swinging her pale legs and smiling. She waves.
“A seer?” Carver questions.
“My Chaos Wizard served me bravely for years. A clearer mind is my gift to her now.”
The Firebringer brushes past me, reaching the high wall just as Poseidon tips his trident forward and Cleito slips off it and into her sister’s arms. “How?” Bellanca chokes out. The joy and confusion in her voice echo in my heart. I seem all too human these days.
Two men suddenly race across the square, one coming from Apollo’s temple and the other from my own. One is Hoi Polloi and the other is a Magoi healer. I feel his new magic pumping through his veins. They join the Firebringer and her group of friends with Cleito. Watching them, I feel alone.
The young Magoi, who’s just received his ancestral magic, shoulders his way to the seer’s side. He wears my amulet around his neck and has saved many lives. “Are you all right? Do you need healing? I’m a healer now.”
Cleito looks him up and down with clear recognition in her eyes. “I know. And no—I’m fine. Poseidon saved me from my fall into the sea. He brought me to Aeaea. Then he brought Atlantis to Aeaea and raised it here.”
“Poseidon did?” The Firebringer turns and looks at my brother. All heads, including mine, turn as well. He stands in the deepest part of the harbor, looking smug, as usual.
“With ’s permission, of course,” Cleito adds.
Ah, my girl to the end. I find another smile. My paternal feelings don’t end on Mount Olympus, it seems. In fact, I see too many souls I care about too much now.
Poseidon chuckles, either because of Cleito’s little revision or because he’s reading my thoughts. “And it was no small undertaking to keep this island together while merging worlds in the middle of a clash of gods.”
No wonder he looks smug. He’s right, though. It can’t have been easy.
Atlantians finally fully flood out of the temples, trying to get a better look at Poseidon. I feel the growth of my power slow as their devotion automatically shifts to him. Luckily, my ego is not so fragile that I can’t share the gratitude of Atlantians with my brother. He might have been absent from the visible battle, but that didn’t mean he didn’t do his share.
The gratefulness of the Firebringer is especially potent—heartfelt, powerful, and pure—just like her magic. My portion of her devotion doesn’t diminish as she hugs her sister again.
The new healer still hovers over Cleito. “I’m sorry I never helped you. I should have.”
Smiling at him, my seer lifts her hand and brushes a speck of blood off his cheek. “It wasn’t your destiny. You weren’t supposed to intervene.”
“Aeaea’s a dangerous place to drop you off.” Carver frowns at me and then at Poseidon. While I don’t appreciate the accusation in his tone, I’m pleased at how well he’s always defended Cleito, no matter the cost to him. “The Minotaur… Circe… You could’ve been killed.”
“Oh, I didn’t go into the maze or onto the island.” Cleito’s face brightens with a huge smile, just for him. She knows a true brother when she sees one. “I stayed on your boat. You left plenty to eat and drink there.”
“The Athena ?” Clearly delighted, the Firebringer looks across the sea toward Hera’s island. I feel the thought of home rush through her mind and body, but it doesn’t take up all the room there. Her heart anchors right here, in Atlantis, and satisfaction fills me. I, too, love the salt air, the orange blossoms, the bright sunshine, and the Nereid-crested waves of this island. I think I’ll be less absent here.
“You seem much more clearheaded,” Carver says to Cleito. “Are you well?” His care for my Chaos Wizard, his selfless sacrifice, factored into my decision to brand the shard onto his chest and make him immune to his wife’s magic. There’s little point in punishing bad deeds if good ones go unrewarded.
Cleito smiles at him, affection in her still-golden eyes. I made sure the color remained unique, but the fathomlessness is gone, the infinite swirling. Eyes that were unfocused all her life easily focus on her new brother. “My work finished when Hera dropped me. I’d never seen anything about myself beyond. I think I was supposed to die. Or maybe I did in a way. But here I am again, and I’m just a plain old seer now.”
“I don’t see anything plain about you,” the new Magoi healer mutters.
Cleito cocks her head at him, smiling a little and maybe seeing what I do. There might be another union to bless soon.
The Firebringer’s happiness is a blazing light inside me. Maybe that’s why I’ve followed her so closely lately. Her passions are so raw they jump straight out at me and demand attention. As she looks around at the people she’s gathered in Atlantis, her close circle, she sees the family she never had forming before her eyes. Sisters. Brothers. Parents. A husband. I open my mind and her thoughts are mine.
This is a life.
For the first time in eons, goose bumps ripple over my skin. But then I don’t need to spy on her mind, because she says what she feels aloud. “There’s nothing we lost in Thalyria that we can’t rebuild here.” Turning to her husband, she grips his hand and smiles. “And better still, we can go back to visit. We can even sail the Athena there.”