47. Caelus
Caelus
I felt her heart break from across the room — felt it as keenly as I had felt my own when it shattered mere minutes ago.
When I realised I was dying, that I would have to leave her before I ever really had her — I longed to tear the realms apart with my teeth. My soul had been wrenched from my body in a painful tug, nothing like the peaceful drifting into oblivion I’d always imagined it would be.
I did not go gently. Maybe because I was fighting it — the tug, the Fates, the goodbye. All of it. I wasn’t ready, and this wasn’t how it was supposed to end. I’d entwined our golden threads together; we were supposed to be together always, and go together when we met our end.
Not like this.
Not Painfully. Not separately.
I couldn’t bear it.
I’d lingered near her for as long as I could, desperately clinging to the two-toned aura of her soul. The bond snapped as the force dragging me away silently won.
And then — her inky, death-born shadows had extended toward me, caressing whatever form I still possessed.
I latched on like ivy to stone, even as the Parthenon crumbled below.
Somehow, Nyssa ripped me from the jaws of death, or of fate.
She’d done what should have been impossible and brought me back to life, to her, to where I was always meant to be.
Even before the bond reformed, I’d never felt anything so excruciating.
But this pain, this devastation, sliced deeper than anything I’d ever felt. It cut worse than any blade. Even worse than the one my own mother plunged into my chest. It was as if something vital was being torn from me — and I knew I’d never be whole again.
But this was not my pain. It was hers. And I’d do anything to make it stop.
I just had to get back to her first.
But Kronos was the Titan of time, and he was using his gift to slow my body, as though I was wading through molasses.
Two things I knew for certain:
The first — I would not reach her in time to make any sort of a difference.
The second — this grief might be something she could never come back from.
A flicker of hope, tentative as butterfly wings, fluttered along the bond. Nyssa’s emerald eyes widened, lips parting as she watched Kronos’ hand with a devastating kind of optimism. My heart stuttered as dread soured my tongue.
Kronos was no merciful being. He was wrath and malice incarnate — and he meant to break her even further.
He meant to shatter her completely; to ensure the Queen of the realms would be no obstacle to his reign.
He twisted his wrist in the opposite direction, and Charon aged in reverse. Bones brightened, muscle stretched, skin grew. Wrinkles appeared, then faded. The Ferryman was whole once more.
Charon halted mid-strike, his scream abruptly cutting off. Panting, he was the only one of us moving at a normal speed. His eyes locked on Nyssa. She was on her knees, arms outstretched, tears cutting pale tracks through the dirt lining her face.
Charon’s face fell. He rushed towards her, tears lining the rims of his own pale blue eyes.
Kronos flicked his fingers casually, releasing Nyssa from the time-bind just as Charon reached her. He scooped her up into a firm hug.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t think—” Charon’s words were cut off by Nyssa’s harrowing sob. The sound twisted my soul; I never wanted to hear it again as long as I lived. Which might not be long if the Titan before us had his way.
I’d barely managed to gain a few feet when the ominous feeling of dread in my chest came to fruition.
I tried to scream, to shout, to do anything to warn them.
Kronos’ smile turned villainous. He took a single step closer, raising his right hand as if inspecting his fingernails. Instead, his hand mutated into a long, skeletal blade — first the length of a dagger, then a carving knife, then a longsword.
Charon and Nyssa still clutched each other in shared grief. They had no idea everything was about to change.
Forever.
Violet lightning arced from my fingertips, arching towards the Titan as I shattered his hold over me.
“Nyssa!” I cried — too late. The lightning missed its mark, and the realm shifted again.
Kronos thrust his sword up through the ferryman’s back, piercing straight through his heart with a sickening crack.
A cry of pain sprang from Nyssa’s lips as she caught the tip of the bone blade through her shoulder, her brows dipping in alarmed confusion.
Charon did not scream. He did not cry. He did not give any indication of agony. Ichor spat from his lips as he coughed once — just once — eyes dropping to the blade protruding from his chest, then back up to Nyssa’s horrified gaze.
Kronos lifted his arm high, dragging Charon’s body with it. The Ferryman’s limbs dangled uselessly as his head bobbed, but his gaze never wavered from Nyssa. His Queen. His sister. His best friend.
A scream rent the air, haunting and desolate.
I rushed to catch her.
The sound ruptured into a million fragmented pieces as my arms closed around her icy form.
Too late.
I was too late.