Chapter 32 Caelus
Caelus
The second I set foot on the Isle, I knew something terrible had happened.
There was my heart, in the arms of Evadne. There was Hephaestus lying across the lap of his son. And between us all was Aphrodite, caught in the maelstrom of displaced souls as they swirled around her — frenzied and pouring through each of the three archways.
The three repaired archways.
She cried out, dropped to her knees and threw her hands over her ears, as she wept.
She could not see the shades but none would mistake their torrential feel — icy, melancholic, wrong.
Until the storm passed and the majority cleared out, I would be unable to reach Nyssa.
Which pained me greatly — my stomach lurched at the sight of her: ichor-stained and unmoving.
The only reassurance I had was that I still lived, therefore she must, too.
So, I did the one thing I could do — the one thing Nyssa would want me to do, given the circumstance. I crawled over to Aph and pulled her into my arms, waiting for a break in the tempest of souls.
“Caelus?” She blinked through red-rimmed eyes, barely audible over the howling. “What are you doing here?”
“Nyssa?” I demanded, ignoring her question.
“She’s okay, I think… but Caelus… it was bad.”
I searched her horror-filled gaze for answers but none were forthcoming. “Tell me.”
“Hephaestus — he’s dead,” she choked out past a sob.
Shocked, my head snapped round to where Arch sat. Sure enough, his father lay unmoving, and Arch stared dumbly down at his bearded face. He barely even noticed the shades passing over him, jostling him, going through him. I doubt he’d even hear his name called out right now.
Even as I watched, Hephaestus’ body faded.
Grief had a funny way of making time stop; of making you feel as though you could stopper it if you just ceased moving and you refused to acknowledge it.
Unfortunately, grief then had a tendency to take swings at you with a sledgehammer.
“How?”
Aph twisted to look over at Nyssa, thoughts and memories obviously plaguing her.
“Aphrodite, how?”
Tear-stained blue eyes met mine as the goddess swallowed roughly. “Nyssa fixed the first arch so quickly, I foolishly believed this task would be a breeze.” She looked away. “I was wrong. So very wrong.
“The second stalled her. Her powers waned with every heartbeat and I knew that she was close to burnout. And that she would prefer to burn out than give up.
“Arch knew it, too. He offered his soul up on a silver platter for her to take and use to finish the job. By then, she only had the third to go.” She shook her head. “I was right, then. Nyss — she — she almost killed herself trying to finish.” Fresh tears fell down her sunkissed cheeks.
And me? My heart was in my throat — guilt choking me. I’d known something was wrong — deep in my bones, I’d known it was more than a nagging worry — and I’d chosen to ignore it. And my beloved almost died. Hephaestus had died.
“What then?” I managed to ask, desperately fighting the need to go to her, knowing I couldn’t yet make it.
Fuck these souls!
“Heph intervened. Sacrificed himself in Arch’s stead. Gave Nyssa his entire soul to first fix the third arch, then heal the wounds in Archimedes’ with the remainder. He’s cured, Caelus. Cured, and broken all over again.”
I barely dared to speak, let alone ask, “And Nyssa?”
“Fainted after it was done. Evie caught her head before it hit the ground, but then this storm came out of nowhere and almost knocked me right into the Styx.”
“You wouldn’t be here to tell the tale if they had.”
“I know.” A pause, then, “You can see them, can’t you? The souls of the dead?”
I nodded.
“How is that possible?” she breathed.
“A perk of dying, I guess.”
“Interesting,” she mused. “I wonder what else you can do.”
Aphrodite fought against gravity and the winds to regain her feet, urging me to stand beside her.
“Direct them,” she urged over the wailing. “Guide them to their afterlives.”
My brows crashed down over my cynical eyes — I didn’t think such a thing was possible. I wasn’t a death god, after all. But I lifted my right hand and pointed at the left-most arch, trying anyway.
“Go home?” I ordered with a shrug.
“Not like that.” She snorted around her tears. “You have to mean it. Show ‘em who's boss.”
There must be some logic to it… some sense of where they belong, otherwise how does Nyssa sentence them? A guess? A feeling? Sheer dumb luck?
I narrowed my focus on a small section of the whirling vortex. Concentrated on what they looked like, how they felt to me. And in doing so, I discovered that they were rising higher than the others — drifting slower. And they were sad.
Horrifyingly, sorrowfully sad.
I picked another section, tracked them around and around as they vaulted past us over and over again. They felt icy — more so than the rest. They were darker.
And these ones? They felt malevolent.
A shudder darted down my spine. They were not meant for this place, not even when alive. These souls were dark. Foul.
Destined for Tartarus, I knew that for certain.
As I targeted a third batch of shades, I realised that the cohort were actually moving in three different ways. There were three distinct groups when I broke it down, not just one massive vortex as I’d initially assumed.
“This will be easy, then,” I murmured, more to myself than Aphrodite.
I focused on the upper section — the lighter, sadder ones. Encompassing them all in my gaze, I pointed again at the leftmost arch and willed them to go to it. “Leave this place. Reclaim your paradise and forget this ever happened.”
And strangely, they looped around and drifted towards the arch with its already-growing buds of wisteria. The souls paused, until one was brave enough to try. It disappeared within the shimmering veil, and then they all followed, bolstered by the first’s resolve.
With the tempest reduced by a third, the howling winds quieted significantly. The air seemed to weigh less, and my breaths came somewhat easier.
Without stopping to second-guess my newfound talent, I focused on the middling group. Grey, monotone, and almost stagnant.
“Go,” I commanded, steel finding its way into my tone.
They went. The arch with fresh floral growths at its base accepted them all with ease.
And then there was only the third group. The worst of them all. Smaller than the others, but much more fearsome. They roared with all the hatred and fury they felt at having to go back.
“Go,” I said again.
None obeyed.
“Go back to your well-deserved hell. Leave this place and forget it ever existed, for you shall know nothing else but the cold pits of despair,” I shouted, lacing the command with every ounce of my will.
Slowly, they went — powerless to disobey. And though they fought against every inch, I dragged them all into that final arch until every last monster disappeared into the dark abyss.
Every
last
one.
A soft feminine moan broke the silence that followed, and my eyes snagged on a twitching form.
“Nyssa,” I whimpered, rushing to her.
I reefed her out of Evadne’s arms, heedless of her feelings on the matter.
“Nightshade, look at me.”
Her eyelids fluttered, giving me a glimpse of eyes rolled back in her head. But ultimately, they stayed closed as she fought and lost the battle against unconsciousness.
“Perhaps it’s better this way,” an unfamiliar voice murmured.
Looking up, I had the strangest sense of deja vu — needed to double check who lay in my arms. The woman in front of me was the spitting image of Nyssa, right down to her brilliant emerald eyes.
Standing next to her, with one ghostly arm wrapped around her wavering form was a figure I recognised well — and if I was being honest, one I still feared a little.
Hades looked the same as the last time I’d seen him, albeit more grey and transparent. He had eyes only for his daughter; smiled down at her, with a mixture of profound love and immeasurable sadness in his depthless, black eyes.
“If you'd have told me ten years ago, that my daughter would end up loving a son of Zeus, I’d have laughed and told you that she would marry him one day,” he said.
My brows crashed together as I tried hard to make sense of his words.
“You knew?” I finally asked.
At this, he met my gaze. “About you?” He laughed. “Furies, no. I think I’d have probably kidnapped you at best, eaten your soul at worst.”
A third voice interrupted before I could address that particular concern. “You knew about me, then? Who my father really was?”
Hades’ gaze flicked to Charon, who’d appeared seconds ago, crouched before me.
“The timing was suspicious, I’ll admit, but I trusted your mother—”
“We both did,” Persephone interjected.
After a deep breath, Hades continued, “It wasn’t until you were grown that I knew for certain.
You were very much your mother, which is why, I think, it took me so long.
But you were equal parts Zeus, too. Equal parts Caelus,” he explained, nodding at me.
“Which became more apparent every time we were required to visit Aetherion.”
Charon swallowed roughly. “Why didn’t you say anything?” Tears welled in his ghostly eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“To do so would have been to paint a target on your back, and therefore also on hers.” He tipped his chin toward Nyssa, stirring in my arms.
“It’s time, my love. We should go now, before she wakes and has to lose us all over again,” Persephone whispered, her voice catching on the last words.
The goddess bent down, cupping her daughter’s cheek with one wispy hand.
Her eyes dripped ghostly tears on Nyssa’s face, leaving no trace of ever having touched her in the first place.
“Goodbye, daughter. I am so proud of you. You are exactly who I wished for when Fate gifted me a daughter. You are exactly what the realms need.”