Chapter 12 The Anchor Holds #2
It hadn’t worked. Everything had been for nothing.
Before I could surrender to my grief all over again, Charon shot me a look of approval. “The anchor holds. The metal sings. Well done, Keres.”
Any other day, I’d have been shocked Charon could approve of anything or anyone except Aion. Today, the weight of his words practically paralyzed me.
“W-What… What do you mean?”
Charon didn’t answer. He didn’t have to, because that was when I heard it.
Thump.
The vibration traveled up from the stone table, through my hands, and into my very bones. A rhythmic, metallic beat. The driving cadence of a new heart beating.
Thump. Thump.
Daphne gasped. Her back arched off the table as her lungs drank in the air. Without a word, Charon slid out of the workshop, but I barely registered his departure.
My world had shrunk to this table, to the impossible sight of her turning her head. Her eyes found mine.
“Daphne... You… You’re here.”
“You called to me,” she rasped. “How could I not come?”
The simple truth of it shattered the last of my shock. But with it came the horror. I hadn’t saved her. I had stolen her from her rest, trapped her in an inhuman body, all to soothe my own selfish grief. A wave of shame hit me, so strong it made me physically recoil.
“I... I’m sorry,” I choked out, my gaze falling from hers. “I dragged you back. You were... at peace. I just... I couldn’t let go.”
She reached up, her fingers closing around my wrist. Her skin burned with a steady, living heat, and her grip was firm. She pulled my hand toward her until I had no choice but to meet her eyes again.
“It’s all right, Phonos. I don’t want you to let me go. Not ever. Just... hold me.”
I couldn’t have denied her to save my life. I pulled her close, burying my face in the curve of her neck, breathing in the impossible, familiar scent of her skin.
She was whole. Not a ghost. Not a memory. But I’d still failed her, still allowed my own home to hurt her.
“I’m so sorry, Daphne,” I whispered, the words muffled against her hair. “I was supposed to keep you safe. And instead…”
She wrapped her arms around me, holding me just as tightly. “No,” she murmured, her breath warm against my ear. “It was never your fault, Phonos. It was my path. I just... I didn’t see the end of it. Not properly.”
I pulled back, just enough to see her face, to search her eyes for any sign of pity. I found none. Only a steady certainty that stole the breath from my lungs.
“But I pushed you.” I had. I’d been so desperate to claim her, to have her as my own, that I’d missed the obvious signs that something was wrong.
Daphne shook her head. “You were you. And I wanted what you offered just as much as you did. But I let the threads twist my fear into something that wasn’t there.”
My entire body went rigid. I’d never gotten a real explanation of what had chased Daphne out of the Spire. I’d been too trapped in my grief to ask. But now, the only person who mattered could give me my answers. “What happened, Daphne?”
She pulled back slightly, looking away from me and clenching her jaw. “I saw a vision,” she whispered. “It was… of you and Callista. I saw you offer her the sky. The same promise you made to me.”
A vision of Callista and me together. Of course. I should have known the past would somehow come back to haunt me, even when I’d long let Callista go.
A part of me didn’t want to taint this moment with anything remotely involving another person. But maybe if we’d spoken about this sooner, I wouldn’t have lost her in the first place. Or at least, not like that.
Regardless, I owed her my honesty. “What happened with Callista… I thought she was my mate. It’s true. But she was only ever meant to lead me to you.”
She didn’t seem surprised by my confession. “She did. With the asphodels. But in my fear, I forgot that. I thought I was just a replacement.”
The mere idea made everything inside me freeze. “Daphne, no. If anything… If anything, it was the opposite.”
It wasn’t a pleasant thought to have, but it was the truth, regardless. Daphne took it in stride. “I realize that now,” she said, her voice gaining strength. “When I was in the lake, I heard you. I felt your grief. I understand. And I won’t ever doubt it again.”
In the lake. She’d been in the lake. I thought about the strangeness of my body healing over and over, even when I’d tried to destroy it. I thought about how infuriatingly familiar and comforting it had felt. The whole time, it had been Daphne. The whole time, my mate had been with me.
I was such a fool.
For the first time since she’d disappeared in my arms, I felt like I could breathe. I brushed my lips over hers in a ghost of a kiss, a vow against the shadows of our shared past.
“I understand, too,” I murmured. “This is forever.”
That was when I felt it. A deep, rhythmic thrumming against my own chest. It was the echo of my own power, tamed and transformed into a life-giving pulse. The sound of my screech had become the rhythm of her life.
A sense of profound, terrifying awe washed over me. She was a miracle forged in the heart of a tragedy. I gently took her hand, turning it over in mine. “What… what is it like? For you?”
She looked down at our joined hands, flexing her fingers with wonder. “It’s… different.” She slid off the table, her bare feet landing on the cold stone of the workshop floor. “My gift isn’t there anymore, but somehow, I can see everything more clearly.”
Her lips twisted in a small, breathtaking smile. “I won’t lie and tell you I’m not afraid anymore. But… I’m free. We both are.”
Free. It was an intoxicating thought, and almost too good to be true. After everything that had happened, I knew better than to test my luck, to actually see if this blessing held or not.
But Daphne looked at my wings, then past me, toward the high ceiling of the workshop. “I have a new chance at life now. So let’s start anew. Show me your city, Phonos, the way a Keres would.”