8. Caelus
Caelus
Her scream pierced my ears so keenly, I was convinced I’d end up like Apollo, deaf to the world forever.
And that was a shame, because I’d only just discovered how much I liked the sound of her laughter. Granted, it was short and begrudgingly given — rasping and low, like she rarely used that part of her vocal cords.
I’d have to change that.
The sound coming out of her mouth now, though — that sound filled me with dread. My own pain paled in comparison to the churning in my gut caused by her screams.
The second I’d crossed the tar-like shell of Apollo’s personal prison, fire ravaged my body. From head to toe, I was alight, invisible flames devouring me.
The second we stepped over, following the footprints of those who’d come before us, pain ignited in my veins, and Apollo’s golden eyes snapped open. His gaze flicked between our faces — if he was surprised to see us together, he didn’t show it.
Finally, his eyes locked onto mine resolutely. As unseen fire ravaged my body, I clenched my jaw. I was glad Nyssa had ignored my outstretched hand, because I was certain my fingers would have broken hers by now.
Breathe, a deep voice rumbled through my mind. Embrace the flames.
Apollo’s face dripped with sweat, his grimace unmoving, but somehow I knew the voice belonged to the sun god. I’d never heard him speak, nor met any other god who could wield telepathy, but the air of calm in his tone anchored me.
The first inhale was the sharpest. My lungs scorched like I’d breathed in a mouthful of fire, and who knows? Maybe I had. After all, I couldn’t see it.
The second breath came easier. The third barely burned at all.
With each breath, the fiery torment eased. Which, in turn, increased my earlier feeling of dread, because Nyssa was still locked in her own battle.
Her eyes were squeezed shut, her body curled in on itself as she screamed into the scorched air. It was a desperate kind of sound; the kind an adversary makes after being struck down, knowing they’re going to die.
“Nyssa, breathe!” I yelled. Apollo couldn’t physically tell her, and I suspected that his telepathy only worked through direct eye contact.
Her cry stuttered. She gasped breaths of air, fast and hard. It only served to increase the pain, and her screams devoured my eardrums anew.
I looked to the sun god for help.
Tell her to open her eyes.
I crouched before her, beneath her hanging head as she swayed with the agony of the invisible flames.
“Stop fighting it, Nyssa. Open your eyes,” I half-shouted.
Her still-dusty eyelids cracked open, those same shattered green irises piercing mine, just as they’d done from across a crowded room over two decades ago.
“Look at Apollo.”
She lifted her head a fraction, a strained whine still clawing out of her throat. When her eyelids opened fully, her body jolted, and I knew Apollo was speaking into her mind, just as he had to me.
Her scream died out slowly as her breaths came more easily, and I felt like I could finally breathe again.
She straightened and quickly unlaced her left vambrace, throwing it to the ground.
She flipped up her tunic cuff, exposing mottled, grey skin, bearing an eery resemblance to the statues dotted all over Aetherion.
Together we watched as the greyness slowly receded, her skin returning to the glistening white of moonlight.
“What happened?!” I growled.
“Serpent venom,” she levelled me with a glare. “It’s fine. I can move my fingers again. Apollo’s power — the flames — they’re healing it.”
Incredulous, I fired back: “You mean to tell me... that you’ve been trudging through the desert — silently — while your arm solidified?!”
She raised that irksome black brow. “Yes. While we burned under the afternoon sun, my arm also burned, from the inside out. The venom was almost at my collarbone when we crossed.” She pursed her lips. “I was going to fix it at home.”
“Fix it?! Why didn’t you just tell me?” I shouted, furious at my own blindness. She’d obviously been hurting fiercely, but masked it so well I was obtusely unaware of how dire the situation had become, until it was almost too late.
“Tell you? What could you have done, golden boy?” She scowled, her mask slipping just enough to reveal a hint of her fury. “You had no cure, no power to help — and I couldn’t trust you even if you did!”
And there it was.
She didn’t trust me.
She couldn’t.
And I understood why.
So why did it sting so badly?
I’d never been so shaken by another’s pain — never longed to destroy its source so fiercely.
Sure, she was beautiful, but was that really the only reason?
She had every reason in the three realms to hate me. Every reason to be wary and keep me at arm’s length. But I longed fervently for that to not be the case. I wanted her to tell me she was wounded.
Why was that? Why had the daughter of Hades lodged herself in my mind since the moment I’d waltzed into that council meeting a week ago?
I wasn’t entirely sure of the answer. And I wasn’t entirely sure I cared. I was just drawn to her — perhaps to my doom — but I was done playing the part assigned to me at birth and holding myself to everyone else’s expectations. Kings didn’t do that, and wasn’t that what I intended to become?
I looked up to find Apollo’s eyes already latched onto mine, and I wondered just how deeply his telepathy delved. I narrowed my brows, frowning, but his expression didn’t shift — still etched with steadfast pain.
Call for Hermes.
I did as Apollo bid, and moments later, a loud snap ricocheted through the sweltering air.
“Can’t say I’m surprised to find you here, son of Zeus,” said the god of travel, turning his eye to Nyssa. His lips tugged down at the corners. “You, on the other hand…”
“Oh, go fuck yourself,” Nyssa spat, her breathing still a little too rapid for my liking. She gritted her teeth and summoned what I suspected were the last reserves of her power, throwing shadows to the ground. They rippled over the sand like an oil spill, halting when a perfect circle had formed.
“Thank you, Apollo,” she said. The god dipped his head slightly, sweat dripping to the sand at his feet. We needed to get out of here, and hope we were the last to make it through.
Nyssa shot me one last, unreadable look before stepping into the darkness and disappearing. The portal vanished a heartbeat later. Hermes made a sound of disgust, staring at the patch of sand as though it were now tainted.
“Are we the last to arrive?” I asked sharply. His face snapped to mine, surprise flitting across his greasy features.
“No. Your mother is the last. If she does not make it by sunset, Apollo’s trial will be complete, and she will have been eliminated.”
Apollo eyed me closely, assessing my reaction. I simply shrugged, and replied casually, “Then may the Fates give her their blessing.”
Hermes paused momentarily, squinting, before giving a quick nod.
“Grasp my forearm. You may feel ill afterward,” he warned. Hermes raised his other hand and made a pinching motion with his fingers. In an instant, the realm snapped together, and we stood in the Parthenon’s atrium, alone.
“Where is everyone else?”
“Oh, they’ve all gone home for the evening. You’ll be pleased to know that some of them fared worse than you did,” he said with a smirk, evidently delighted that they had suffered while he had sat on his arrogant ass, drinking wine, as we burned alive.
I turned on my heel, ignoring the god of thieves, and strode purposefully towards the exit.
“Son of Zeus?” he called sweetly. “You might be needing this.”
I turned just in time to catch a strangely familiar silver dagger hurling through the air.
“How did you?—”
“God of thieves. You’d do well to remember how stealthy I can be.”
There was a thinly veiled threat in that. But I had no idea what the primal meant by it.
Only time would tell.