Chapter 30 Caelus #3
Arius stopped to greet a pair of children who’d taken one look out their front window then bolted out of their house to throw themselves around his legs. The sound of glee followed, both their cheeks dimpling in a way that struck oddly at my heart.
Is this what it could have been like to grow up with Charon? As a brother, and not as strangers?
I could barely stomach the thought and had to turn away from their apparent joy.
Aros nudged my shoulder with his own. “You alright?”
I nodded, swallowing around the unexpected lump of emotion. “Fine. It’s just…”
Aros followed my gaze to the pair now winding in and around King Arius’ legs even as their mother tried to pry them free.
He nodded, smiling despite his best efforts not to.
“I get it,” he said, uncharacteristically gentle.
“You were robbed of the chance to experience a childhood like this. But even though I, with all my wisdom and devastatingly good looks, are a mere five hundred or so years older, I still consider you a brother, Caelus. You’re not alone.
” He tapped a finger against my sternum.
“Never again will you truly be alone,” he laughed.
I huffed a laugh. “True enough. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.” I felt the smile drip slowly off my face. “I just can’t help but wonder what could have been.”
He cocked his head, considering. “That’s for the Fates to know, not us.”
“Coming?” Arius called with one quirked ginger brow. He did not wait for our answer, instead turned and kept walking all the way to the centre of Ignios. His people came out of their houses one by one, and followed our curious party to the fountain that lay in the heart of the village.
Diamond-shaped and in disrepair, the fountain boasted a limestone boar. The beast’s mouth was agape in an eternal roar, water trickling sadly from the ends of his bronze-plated tusks. Stagnant water meandered around the base where he stood, algae milling about the corners.
Aros took one look at the structure and frowned.
“Is that…?”
Arius glanced between him and the statue, nodding with fervor when he understood. “It is.”
“Is what?” I asked, annoyance twisting my features into a scowl.
I was beginning to think that was my standard expression whenever Nyssa wasn’t in the vicinity.
It is, Lykos confirmed.
I flicked him a scowl of his very own.
In the end, Arius answered, eager to explain, “This statue is carved in the likeness of the boar that struck down the mortal named Adonis.” The king spat into the fowl water.
The name struck a bell — familiar, yet I couldn’t quite grasp the reason why.
Aros growled — a deeply unhappy sound. “The mortal Aphrodite loved,” he said by way of explanation.
Oh.
All at once a fierce rage overtook me. Petrichor tainted the air, static energy causing everyone’s hair to lift. Lightning skirted across my skin and darted through my veins, sparking at the ends of my scarred fingers.
I closed them into fists at my side, my right hand clenching around something solid and hot.
Without sparing a thought for how it would be perceived, I threw the bolt — tainted a light violet colour, its edged skirted by black shadow — with all my might at the figure of the bore.
The stone shattered into dust, kicked up into a frenzy by the incoming storm my power sang for.
None of the gods by my side said anything at all, but Arius cried out in rage.
I turned my brightened gaze onto the king and glared until he broke eye contact and dropped into a kneel where he stood. His people followed quickly, even the children barely daring to breathe.
But that isn’t what I want. Children cowering before me… before us…
The ground trembled beneath my feet, and tiny squeals pierced my heart.
Then stop, Lykos intoned. You control your power, not the other way around, godling. His large snout prodded my chest. This isn’t what she would want either.
And it was that thought, that fragment of truth that evaporated the clouds fogging my mind. I blinked, relinquishing the storm thrumming in my very bones, and exhaled heavily.
“Just for good measure,” Aros growled, loosing a stream of furious red flame at what little remained of the fountain — violent enough that even Velira would be proud of the effort.
“How dare you destroy a symbol of our patron god?” Arius breathed, eyes flicking up to the skies like Ares himself was hovering overhead and would smote him.
“It was not a symbol of your god’s strength, but instead, his cowardice,” I seethed.
“That boar,” Aros’ voice shook. “That boar stole something from a very dear friend of ours. And she has never been the same since.”
“I see,” said the mortal king, though his face still conveyed the bitterness that now plagued him.
I couldn’t see any way to undo this — to repair the fractured relationship between ourselves and the people of Strathos.
Give it time. Hear them out and hope that they give you the same grace.
I fought the urge to pull a face at my oh-so-wise wolf, but knew that would not improve the situation I’d caused.
“Where to next?” I asked the king.
“Next, the Bloodhold awaits.”
“Fabulous,” Aros replied. “Caelus, if you have any extra woo-woo in those hands of yours, I really can’t be fucked walking all the way there.”
I snorted a laugh, feeling another pang at the absence of my soul-bonded snorter.
Concentrating fiercely — creating portals from nothing but darkness was harder than Nyssa made it look — I conjured a misshapen archway, wobbly at the edges but still — I hoped — usable.
“Go quickly, I guess I have less woo-woo than I’d like.”
Aros laughed, picking up the green-faced king and tossed him through like a sack of grain. With a salute, he stepped backwards, disappearing into the blackness, with Erato, Diana, and the beasts on his tail.
I stepped through last, crying out at the last second as another, sharper pang pierced the space in my chest where Nyssa’s emotions usually lingered.
Something’s wrong.
Go, Lykos said, voice as faint as a whisper.
Wasting no time at all, I diverted the magic, thinking of my home. My heart. My woman.