Chapter 2 The Bronze Guardian
The Bronze Guardian
Aion
Death spheres sometimes felt like they were alive. It was something strange, a secret I’d only ever shared with my father. But on days like these, when I came back from a harvesting mission, their song troubled me.
I couldn’t have said why. The spheres didn’t communicate in any language the people of Asphodelia truly understood.
They spoke the way the city did, in pressure and frequency.
It was a song that started at my palms and moved inward, and today it carried something within each note. An unease without a source.
The Stygian Docks stretched ahead of us, and I felt the heavy, familiar impact of each flagstone beneath my steps.
I recognized the roaring flames of the bronze braziers by the deep vibration they cast into the air.
I had walked this dock thousands of times.
It was mine through long, patient contact. Even its fire seemed… nervous.
“It was a rich harvest,” Theron said, walking on my left. He cradled three death spheres under one clawed arm, his hellfire dancing over their smooth surfaces in hypnotic patterns. He hadn’t noticed anything different. “The Moirae will be pleased.”
“The energy hung thick.” Skaros flexed his wings, stretching the leathery membranes with a grace I couldn’t help but envy. “I could still taste it on the way out. Like copper and cold water. An excellent vintage.”
“Only you’d ever comment on the taste of a harvest, Skaros,” Theron offered.
Skaros looked back at him, flashing his fangs in a way that, to anyone else, would have been threatening. “That’s because I have excellent taste. Besides, I think you should be celebrating too. Callista will be happier to have you home more often.”
It was true. Theron’s mate would definitely be pleased to lock him up in their den more often. But Callista wasn’t the only one relieved at our presence.
I turned my gaze to the dark water to our left and forced back my restlessness. The lake was as quiet and still as always, a welcome respite after the chaos of the Korinos Wilds. “Asphodelia is just as happy,” I said.
Skaros shot me an amused glance. “That’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said about the city. And you’ve been at it for forty-seven years.”
Forty-seven years. Some days, it seemed like a lot.
Other times, barely the blink of an eye.
Skaros and Theron were like my own family, almost as close to me as my father.
I’d known them since those early days, when I’d gained my consciousness as a true person living in Asphodelia.
I’d never been able to properly explain my existence to them.
Most likely, I never could. But some days, I wanted to try.
It would not be today. All of a sudden, the familiar routine of our conversation came to a grinding halt. The unease in my spheres spiked. The contained death energy buzzed with frantic anticipation. It was almost as if it were listening for something.
I stopped walking and turned away from my friends. Theron and Skaros froze, mere feet behind me. “Aion?” Theron prodded. “What is it?”
I set my spheres down on the flagstones, deliberately and carefully. “I’m not sure. I think… There’s something in the lake. Whatever it is… It feels. Alive. Born. Not… woven.”
Skaros and Theron stared at me in disbelief. They knew what that meant, the impossibility of what I was saying. How could anyone except a child of the Moirae be anywhere near here? Anywhere near the lake?
But they’d also never doubt me. When it came to the Acheron, the only person who was a better judge was my father.
Together, we ventured deeper into the mists. And that was when I saw her. A woman floated face-down on the lake, silver hair spreading across the still surface like fragments of floating bone. Almost instantly, the death energy flowing through my veins started screaming.
“I’ll go see,” I said. Leaving my friends behind, I rushed forward and stepped off the dock.
The water swallowed me. The sheer weight of my bronze body dragged me instantly into the deep.
“There, there,” the lake offered, a heavy, ancient certainty settling directly into my awareness. “We see her. We can taste her. Find her, Son of Charon.”
The voice guided me forward, but I almost didn’t need it. There was something more powerful building inside me, something I didn’t even dare to think about.
I waded forward, following the frantic resonance.
She lay caught in the submerged asphodel roots, her ruined clothing drifting around her like pale mist. Her hands were severely bruised, one wrist broken and swollen.
I reached into the tangle and turned her over gently, bringing her face above the surface of the shallows.
The moment I faced her, I knew. The recognition slammed into my chest, so fierce it was almost blinding. If I’d been human, my heart might have stopped. Instead, my core pulsed brighter, vibrating with the absolute certainty of simple knowledge.
This woman was my mate.
I’d hoped for it, of course. After my sister had bonded with her Keres lover, I’d secretly dreamed of finding my own match. But I hadn’t expected it to happen like this, or so quickly.
The woman dragged in a wet breath. Her eyes opened, finding my face through the misty air above the water. In a heartbeat, she flinched, scrambling backward into the roots.
I reached out, my fingers brushing her pale cheek. Impossibly, her eyes went even wider. “You… You’re touching me.”
Was she afraid because of my strange nature? It seemed likely. Most people of the Korinos Wilds saw the monsters of my home as terrifying beasts.
But she didn’t turn me away. Instead, the desperate tension drained from her muscles, and she went completely limp. It was as if my touch had erased the panic that had kept her awake in the first place.
Mindful of her broken wrist, I gathered her out of the roots and pulled her against my chest. She felt impossibly small against my solid frame. A faint, rhythmic vibration beat against my breastplate—the desperate thud of her heart.
It was enough. It was more than I could have ever dreamed of.
I headed out of the lake, back onto the dock. Theron and Skaros took her from my arms, gently setting her on the flagstones while I pulled myself from the lake. Her absence ached, and the moment I was back on solid ground, I pulled her close again.
“A death-touched human,” Skaros rumbled, his scorpion tail flicking in confusion. “How did she cross the lake without Charon?”
“She crossed nothing.” I shifted her weight, and she shook against me, still restless. “I think the lake brought her.”
It must have. There was no other explanation.
“She needs Iaso,” Theron offered softly. “Whatever happened to her out there, a healer must look at that wrist. Even if Asphodelia welcomes her, she’s not well.”
The woman in my arms convulsed. A violent shudder ripped through her small frame. Her wet skin slapped against my chest as she twisted.
“No healers,” the lake hissed in my head. “Not for her, Son of Charon. Not for the woman who can kill the dead.”
I didn’t need to be told twice. In my heart, I’d already known it. “I’ll take care of her myself. We needn’t disturb Iaso.”
Theron had been watching me the entire time. He stared at the rigid, unyielding set of my bronze shoulders. He should have refused me. A death-touched bride, in such a condition? Theron was right. She needed the healing wing.
But if there was anyone who could understand my situation, it would be him. My Cerberus friend who’d have torn the entire city apart for his mate.
A heavy silence fell over the dock. The wind off the Acheron howled around us, but the three of us stood locked in a quiet, profound understanding.
Skaros broke the stillness. He glanced at the woman in my arms, then turned his back to me, facing the dark water.
“We found nothing but a minor disturbance in the water today,” he rumbled, his voice dropping into the low, gravelly register he used when drawing a line in the sand. “A current anomaly. Not worth reporting.”
Theron nodded. “Give yourself a few hours, brother,” he said, stepping aside to clear the path to the streets. “We'll take care of the death spheres in your stead. And… We never saw anything.”
“Thank you.”
The Moirae would know anyway. They knew and saw everything. Nothing even drew breath in Asphodelia if they didn’t wish it. But if I could have even the smallest delay, I’d take it.
She needed time, time before she went through the bride market. Before she had to face the laws of my people.
As for me… I needed to find answers. What mysteries did my mate hide? And why had the lake spoken of her in such terms?
I didn’t know, and I was almost afraid to find out.
The air in my quarters hummed. On the stone shelves sat countless heavy leather-bound books, all in my father’s careful penmanship. He’d written them to help me become a person, and it had worked. This room was my sanctuary, a place of silent thought.
Clusters of death crystals surrounded my bed, casting a soft silver-blue light over the Stygian iron slab. It was a specific arrangement my father had placed there to help me dream.
“If there’s anything I’ve learned throughout my long years, Aion,” he’d say, “it’s that everyone needs to dream.”
Today, it didn’t seem like I needed any books or any crystals to feel or to dream. Today, the silence was broken by the uneven breath of a living miracle.
She was so fragile, this pale woman lying unconscious on my iron slab. I’d placed furs on the metal, but still, it felt like a paltry haven for someone so beautiful. I’d promised to take care of her, but could I really?
Perhaps not by myself, but I wasn’t alone. Not here, not ever.
The heavy stone door slid open. My sister stepped inside, carrying a bundle of soft wool and a small glass bowl. “How is she doing?”
“The death energy seems to be helping her,” I replied, “but she hasn’t woken.”