Chapter 17 Caelus #3
“Agh!” I roared, throwing my hands up in frustration, pivoting as if to storm off. “It’s no use. This power was never meant to be mine.”
“And yet, it is!” Charon yelled back, stepping in my way, shoulders squared. “You got to live, Caelus, and the only apparent downside is an extra tether to death? I know what I’d prefer,” he seethed, eyes dark.
Bitter regret burned the back of my throat, but I held my tongue. He was right.
I was alive and he wasn’t. I was alive — and the cost was his own death.
Fate had claimed him instead.
My own brother.
I dropped roughly into the sand, plagued with concern. I worried: that Nyssa had saved the wrong son; that I wasn’t worthy of the sacrifice; that Charon was now suffering.
Of course he’s suffering — he’s supposed to be in the Fields right now, in paradise. Instead he’s stuck here in the mortal realm with my ungrateful ass.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured.
He sat silently beside me, mirroring my elbows on knees and stared out at the water, saying nothing at all for several long minutes.
“This place reminds me of the Styx,” he said finally. “Just as dark, just as still.”
I tried to see what he saw, but I wasn’t as familiar with the Underworld’s River as he was.
I wasn’t as familiar with death as he was.
“You know, don’t you?” he asked softly.
My gaze flicked to his profile. Hair that was once blonde and almost as light as mine; a jaw that was just as sharp and angular; eyes that were barely a shade bluer than my own.
Yes, I knew.
I just wish I’d known sooner.
“Nyssa told me her suspicions — and I found that I believe them too, yes.”
He laughed humourlessly. “Of course she figured it out.”
“She’s right, isn’t she?”
His eyes snapped to mine. “You’ll soon realise that she’s right most of the time. It’s annoying, actually.” This time his chuckle was genuine. “But how in Tartarus did we not work it out sooner? It’s like looking in a mirror.”
“A shorter, slimmer mirror, yes,” I jested.
He scoffed even while a dimple appeared in his cheek. “Okay, big guy.”
I snorted an unexpected laugh, my mind rushing back to the moment he’d first said those words to me. The night I’d first given in to my unrelenting desire — no, love — for Nyssa.
It had always been love between us, whether she remembered it or not.
It was never going to be anything else.
“Why did your mother have to make her forget, Char?” I whispered.
I couldn’t bear to see the sadness shaping his face, couldn’t bear to meet it head on.
“My mother was duty-bound to protect her — an oath sworn to Persephone herself. She’d never let anything as simple as death stand between her and her word to her dearest friend.”
“Death has been anything but simple,” I scoffed.
His mouth twitched in a minute smile. “True enough for you and I. And even for Nyss. Regardless, my mother swore to protect her as best she could. And the looks you two were beginning to share… the obsession that Nyssa was beginning to feel for you… Zeus and Hades would never have let it stand. For each to stake any claim over the other’s dominion would have ended in tragedy — for at least one of you. ”
“You’re saying that our fathers would have had us killed.”
It wasn’t a question.
“I’m saying that Zeus had already attempted to murder her once before.
A misstep caused him to retreat, but make no mistake: if he had caught wind of even the potential of the two of you together, that mistake would not have held him back a second time.
And as for Hades… well, he might not have killed you for fear of hurting his daughter, but you would not have lived very comfortably either. ”
I frowned. “So Hades would have been more merciful than my father.”
“Infinitely.”
“Why does that not surprise me?” I met his gaze once more. “You’re lucky to have never experienced his particular brand of parenting.”
Charon winced, eyeing my scars. “Believe me, I know. And for that, I am truly sorry.”
“Sorry?” I jerked back. “Whatever are you sorry for?”
“If I’d been there… if I'd been raised as a son of Zeus… the elder of us, too… well, at least you wouldn’t have had to endure it alone.”
“Ah, but then Nyssa would have had to. And I wouldn’t change that for the world.”
He was silent for a few minutes, staring out at the lake as he flickered in and out of view.
“Two things,” he said after a while. “One: I’m glad she has you now. And two: try to wield again, except this time, don’t force it into a dagger. Let it take the shape that feels most natural to you.”
I sighed deeply before closing my eyes and holding out my palm again. I delved deep to find that cold, dark, tenor of power, and coaxed it to the surface. It rushed to obey, coating my hand in something that felt uncomfortably like frost.
A heartbeat later, a cold, sharp weight settled in my hand.
Charon snorted. “Figures.”
Curiosity got the better of me and I cracked my eyelids open to inspect the object my power was most inclined to form. I understood immediately why Charon had reacted the way he did. I almost dropped it in disdain.
It seemed that my power wanted to model a shape I myself was not overly fond of:
A lightning bolt.
“Are you going to stare at it all night, or are you actually going to use it?” Charon quipped with a wink. He leaned in conspiratorially, shielding his lips with his palm and whispered theatrically. “That’s what she said.”
I rolled my eyes as he guffawed, apparently reduced to bad jokes in his afterlife.
After a series of sniggers, he said, “Throw it at the lake — see what happens.”
Sighing, I tossed the bolt into the water with all the enthusiasm I could muster — which was not much at all. It hit the water with a sad plop, disintegrating instantaneously across the surface.
“Well, that was anticlimactic,” he muttered.
I was inclined to agree.
Not two seconds later, the surface began to ripple ominously. Charon leaped to his ghostly feet and I lurched to join him. We inched closer together, peering into the now churning water, just as something white bobbed to the surface.
“What is that?” I asked.
“Want me to go look?”
“How would you—”
In answer, Charon’s feet lifted six inches off the black sand, smirking. “There are some perks to being a shade.”
Just as he began to drift closer to the white something, two more floated to the surface.
“Wait,” I murmured, reaching to grab his arm. My hand passed through air instead.
Well, that sucks.
Another three somethings appeared. Then four more. Then more and more and more.
Countless somethings now filled the surface of the lake, as far as I could see.
I dared to step closer, my boots dangerously close to the waterline.
The bony remains of a fish meandered nearer to my toes, and it was then that I understood what all of the white somethings were: tiny piscatorial skeletons.
“Huh,” Charon muttered. “That’s a new one.” He eyed me quizzically, like I could explain what had just happened.
I shrugged, as clueless as he was.
“What—” he began, but was interrupted by the hurried trudging of footsteps from deep within the treeline.
We stared as an exomis-clad man emerged a few seconds later, red in the face and huffing short breaths. His sandaled feet pulled up short, eyes widening in the usual way mortal eyes do when they land upon a god.
“Hail, my Lord Caelus! I must apologise for I did not see you there.”
“It’s quite alright. May I offer you a drink?”
He eyed the lake warily. “I had intended to replenish my waterskin at the lake… but I see now that it may not be the wisest decision.”
Charon snickered, unbeknownst to the man.
“Indeed. Here, take mine.” I pulled it off the belt at my waist, and held it out in offering.
His eyes went round even as the rest of his body froze in place.
“I assure you it remains uncontaminated.”
“I—that’s—” he stammered. “Forgive me.” His eyes landed at my feet, brows puckering at my choice in footwear — boots, always boots now. “It’s just that I am undeserving of such a gift from a god.”
“It’s hardly a gift. It’s just water.” I held it out again.
Slowly, he reached out and wrapped his fingers around the soft leather.
“It is a gift,” he said softly. “This waterskin is of finer make than any royal would possess. It is clean water for a parched throat. It is the difference between life and death for a man in a trade such as mine.”
He sipped from the container while I pondered his words and profound gratitude.
“And now, it is yours.”
The man bowed low to the ground.
“Thank you, oh mighty—”
“Alright, that’s quite enough,” I practically pleaded, waving off his zealousness.
Charon clutched at his belly, sniggering at my discomfort.
“Tell me, where is it you come from? And where are you headed?”
The man straightened, severity lacing the sweat-covered lines of his face.
“I come from a village called Hellespont. I relieved the messenger who crossed the strait. He was sent from the hiereis of the Dayspire.”
“The Dayspire?” I frowned. “The temple of Apollo? What do the priests require so urgently they need to send a messenger halfway across the realm?”
“You, my Lord.”
“Me?”
“Well… not just you, but all the Olympians you travelled with. The Dayspire is under attack as we speak. I journey to Ithacene to beg for your aid.”
Lykos, can you hear me?
No response.
“Fuck!”
“Call Nyssa. At least tug on the bond,” Charon suggested.
Nightshade? I sent along our mental tether.
Golden? What’s wrong? Her answer was faint; distant.
I need you to go to Ithacene and warn the others. The Dayspire is under attack.
What about you? she asked, somewhat louder.
I’ll meet you there.
Caelus?! she yelled, her fear sending icy spikes through my chest.
I willed the shadows to form a doorway and they obeyed almost instantly.
“Go to Ithacene, or go home — the choice is yours,” I told the messenger. “Your job here is done. We will answer the call.”
Caelus! Nyssa called just as I stepped through.
Distance severed the connection immediately.