10. CANADA 21st Century #7
“Cassian, be calm, and let me explain,” Olympius said softly, as he put his hand gently on the witch’s arm and squeezed.
“I’m not hurting him. He’s just not the one who needs to hear the ongoing conversation.
It is Aeneas we must speak with. He must make this decision.
To be an immortal or remain eternally reborn.
Not Aric, not Rufus, nor any of the other reincarnations. Do you understand?”
The thing was, the Romani witch understood perfectly. Only, it was an impossible request.
“I can’t. We can’t. I mean, like I explained to Gian, if the host body discovers his past, learns of Aeneas or anything related to his past lives, he will go mad and die. Don’t you understand?”
“I do, but don’t you ever listen?”
Cassian balked at the insult. “What the hell is that supposed to mean, Olympius?”
Coriolanus gave a steady, reassuring smile as he moved to sit down next to his old friend. He placed a firm, grounding hand on his thigh.
“Cassian, The Becoming will work faster than the spread of the madness. You have nothing to fear from that curse. I will make Aeneas immortal, right after you restore to him all his memories, all his lives. He will be many, but in the end, he will be one. Through a unified Aeneas, I will regain my Rufus. Don’t you see?
This is our gift to him! I will give him immortality, and you will make him whole, complete. ”
“But what if Aeneas refuses? What if he doesn’t want to give up his magic, even to live as a powerful immortal?”
“Cassian, didn’t you tell me that there were many lives where Aeneas’ reincarnation had no magic at all, and yet that man was happy and content in his life with you?”
“Well, yes.”
“Okay, well, there you go! Magic isn’t essential to him, not like it is to you. It’s a gift, a choice or maybe just an occurrence of chance. Do you really think he’d choose that over you? Would he?”
“—No,” Aric whispered.
Gasps rippled through the chamber. The warrior-god and the Romani witch turned as one toward Aric, who appeared unconscious, still unmoving.
Olympius, however, remained calm and unprovoked.
“Did he just speak?” Coriolanus thundered, stunned. “Olympius, how did he break free of your power, even for a second? I can’t even escape your hold!”
“We weren’t alone before,” Olympius said quietly, a cryptic gleam in his eyes.
“Someone has been watching over you this auspicious day, Cassian, only she did not wish to be seen. I knew she was here, of course, for none can hide in the shadows, in the darkness in my presence, especially in my very home, without my knowledge.”
“Who do you mean?” Cassian asked, his heart beating so fast he feared it would burst out of his chest.
“Yes, Olympius,” Coriolanus added, frowning, “just who was in our home without my sensing them? I don’t like being unaware of such things.” Sometimes being less powerful than his Maker frustrated him. He also took issue with the older gods acting aloof and superior, even downright dismissive.
“She had no desire to join this reunion or answer questions concerning her actions, my love. Do not take it personally. The witch-goddess only wished to know what Aeneas’ answer would be.
She worried you would not allow it, Cassian.
She sees so much fear in you about this component of her gift, her magic, since your mistake in éire. ”
“Hecate?!” Cassian hollered. “She was here?”
“Briefly, yes,” Olympius admitted. “And she gave me this.”
Upon the ancient immortal’s palm sat a cruet that held a liquid of deep crimson, glowing with an inner light that pulsed with magic like the heartbeat of the sea beneath a moon; its surface rippled as if stirred by an unseen tempest.
“Is that what I think it is?” Cassian asked, afraid to hope.
Olympius smiled; joy verily radiated off him. “If you think this is a cruet filled with the witch-goddess’ blood, you would be correct.”
“Olympius, were you speaking with her in your mind earlier?”
“Yes, my love. I knew you noticed that, and I apologize for being rude. I did not mean to ignore you, but Hecate’s will pressed upon me with urgency.
She asked me to open a portal to our home without the rest of you knowing.
That’s why I went into the bedroom. As I said, she chose not to engage directly in this discussion, and I knew well enough not to question her reasons. I am acting as her intermediary.
“I brought Aeneas’ consciousness to the surface just now so he could answer your question.
If his answer was ‘yes,’ I would return the cruet to Hecate.
If he said ‘no’, I was to give it to Cassian.
The witch-goddess does not wish for you to lose either this chance at immortal happiness with Aeneas or your magic. ”
“This chance?! Why didn’t she tell me of this possibility in Pompeii? Why did I suffer through countless centuries of love and loss, when she could have made me immortal at Vesuvius and Aeneas at his first reincarnation?”
“No, Cassian. Do not harbour hostility toward the witch-goddess. Hecate could never have offered such a gift to you and Aeneas. She swore an oath to Gaia, whom you know as Terra, Mother Earth, that she would never elevate a mortal whose soul was not inherently attuned to magic, as yours is. A mage, witch, or mystic must be born with a soul touched by magic in the very womb of the Well of Creation to join Hecate’s lineage.
She could never have offered her blood to Aeneas.
He is gifted, yes, but not born of magic, as you are. ”
“I see.” Cassian’s thoughts swirled like storm-tossed waters.
If only he had trusted Gian enough to reveal Rufus’ true nature, perhaps he and Aeneas could have found immortality then.
But longing for what might have been was a fool’s game.
The past was fixed. All that remained was today and the promise of tomorrow.
An endless parade of tomorrows.
His heart was filled with such happiness and hope.
“Cassian,” Coriolanus said in a gentle tone, “it’s time.”
Olympius gently laid Aric down on the sofa and then turned to the Romani witch.
“Begin incorporating the memories of your shared lives into his mind, Cassian. Go slowly and leave nothing out, no matter how small or insignificant it may seem to you. The more you give, the more whole Aeneas shall be. And do not worry about the curse, for as long as I keep him in this sedated state, the madness cannot take root.” "
The process took several hours, with Cassian carefully and methodically placing countless centuries of memories and knowledge within Aric’s mind.
When he had shared all he could, he turned to the immortals and asked, “What now? What should I do?”
“Wait,” came the only reply from the ancient Lord of the Night.
After a long silence, Aric’s eyes cleared. As awareness returned, he looked into Cassian’s face and smiled widely. Tears welled up almost instantly.
The Romani witch knew, without doubt, that the man gazing at him with such love in those radiant jade eyes was not Aric, but his beautiful, wonderful Aeneas.
“Cassian, my love! I was lost so many times, in so many lives, and still, you never gave up on me. Even in Madrid, when that twisted, corrupted version of myself gave you every reason to hate me, to walk away! But you came back. You always found me.”
Cassian cupped the handsome, tear-stained face of the man he loved more than his own life.
“Beloved, I could never abandon you. Never .” His voice trembled with emotion.
“You’re as essential to my existence as the air I breathe.
How could I go on as a broken man with half a heart, knowing you were out there waiting to be found?
And now, we shall never be parted again, my beloved Aeneas.
By Hecate, it feels damn good to finally say that name aloud and know it is yours, forever. ”
Then, at last, the two witches kissed fiercely and passionately, as if finally quenching a thirst that had lasted lifetimes. It was the kiss of reunion, of soon-to-be immortality, and of true love reclaimed across centuries.
Though it pained him to interrupt, Coriolanus gently broke the reunion as time was running short, and Aeneas’ Becoming had to begin before the curse of madness could take hold now that he was conscious.
“Father!” Aeneas cried as he clasped the warrior-god’s hand with such affection. “I remember!”
“And soon, my son, you shall be of my blood, as you have always been of my heart.”
With solemn reverence, Olympius handed Cassian the small cruet filled with Hecate’s transformative blood. “All that remains for you is to drink this. The ancient magic will do the rest.”
As the glorious night poured through the penthouse windows and the Toronto skyline shimmered like a sea of stars, everyone present felt a deep sense of anticipation for the magical transformations about to unfold.
Cassian and Aeneas would never again be separated by the Wheel of Destiny, nor by gods, fate, or time itself.
Their souls, once fractured across lifetimes, were now bound eternally, unbreakably, and forevermore.
As their love blazed between them like an eternal flame, an unspoken warning hung in the air: no one, mortal or divine, should dare come between them again.