Chapter 71
Her labors were long, but Tethys endured for the sake of her babe. With each wave of pain through her body signaling the babe’s descent, she begged for relief. Tethys knelt by the bed’s edge with arms braced against the silken comforter.
Nora and her midwives busied themselves about the room, patting her head with cool washing cloths to soothe the sweat from her overheated brow.
Minutes passed like hours.
Hours passed like eternity.
Another wave from the top of her hard, rounded belly came crashing down upon her, igniting her body in flames.
The babe was low now. Nora, having checked for its head, placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
It was time to push.
Tethys sucked in a low breath, armoring herself for the impending exertion.
“Goddess, you were designed for this. You are strong. Let us begin,” Nora said as she dabbed another cloth against Tethys’s brow.
And so she went to battle.
Sweat beaded at the nape of her neck. How much more could she withstand? She was so tired, her body felt as if it’d tear itself apart. Her head pounded with cloudy thoughts.
“I can’t do it,” Tethys cried, losing control of her senses. The walls crumbled around her.
She couldn’t breathe.
She couldn’t see.
She was on the precipice of total collapse.
Was she still grounded to the earth or had she slipped away into the aether, into the stars that speckled the midnight sky? They’d been at this for hours, the ebbing tide of absolute agony flooding in and out.
“Yes, you can,” Nora cried, gripping Tethys’s hand. The mortal’s touch brought Tethys’s mind spiraling down from the heavens and she plummeted to the earth, tensing and clawing for anything to catch her fall.
“I’m so tired, please, I beg of you. Do not make me do this,” Tethys whispered, in a voice both rough and tender all at once.
She’d never experienced this sort of desperation before.
It was the kind, she supposed, reserved for only the starving man stifled by the weight of vapid hunger.
Or the prisoner confined by a force out of their bodily control.
“You must,” Nora replied, her expression serious and stern.
“I can’t. No more, please,” Tethys whispered. Her lower lip, cracked and dry from heavy breaths, quivered slightly as she felt the tightening in her belly once more.
“Tethys, look at me. You must.”
Tethys watched the woman beside her. Her eyes glittered fiercely as she took Tethys’s chin and guided her breaths. Nora pressed a hand against the goddess’s chest, instructing her lungs to fill.
Tethys drew in what little oxygen she could in an attempt to reel herself back.
She was a spool of thread, fallen from its shelf, and now unraveling across the floor.
The healer was right, she didn’t have a choice.
This babe was coming despite her undoing.
Despite the all-encompassing agony rushing up her veins.
She closed her eyes and succumbed to the pain.
To the chaos.
To the creation of life.
Tethys let go of her bodily control and embraced the full-fledged power of this birth.
When she slowly slipped into the aether, like a vessel for the infinite power of the universe, it wasn’t Araes, her soldier across the continent, she thought of. Nor was it her sister, who finally came home, or Phosphora, with her glimpses of sanity, or even Jaide.
It was her mother that guided her to peace. Eos, who gave everything in exchange for her daughter’s safety. She’d offered her life, her motherhood, all for love.
And finally, Tethys’s son came into this world.
The brief moment before he took his first breath and screamed with that tiny voice felt like eternity. She held her breath, waiting for that cry, and when seconds passed and it was silent still, her heart threatened to shatter.
“Come on baby boy, breathe,” she whispered, willing his fragile lungs to inflate. The babe, with his small, soft head, now placed on her chest, sputtered and coughed and fought until he unleashed his voice into the world.
Although new and not yet developed, his was a warrior’s cry.
His little wail was the only melody she’d ever need. The feel of his brand new skin against hers was comfort enough to soothe any pain, or heal even the most deadly of wounds.
She wrapped her palms around the babe’s tiny body, feeling the strength of his bones, and felt for the first time in her life, that she was whole.
“Congratulations, Goddess. He’s a healthy little boy.” Nora smiled, a bead of sweat trailing her brow. “Do you have a name picked out?”
Tethys smiled, tucking her son to the nape of her neck.
It wasn’t easy, settling on a name, but Tethys knew there was nothing more fitting.
Of all the mortal men throughout Venia’s lifetime, there was one more extraordinary than the rest. A general, who led the first Venians through the darkness and chaos of their ancient world, was cherished by all, honored in every home, and never forgotten.
There is strength in a name, power in its meaning. Her son’s namesake was a beacon of hope amidst a terrified, tumultuous realm. Just as her golden haired boy had been, and would continue to be.
“His name is Aryx,” she replied.
? ? ?
Later, Tethys dismissed the wet nurse and the governess permanently. She would feed the babe directly from her own breast and soothe his midnight wails in her own arms.
He was the greatest love of her life, and she cherished those dark hours when it felt as if they were the only two beings left on the continent, maybe even in the universe.
She was exhausted and still bleeding from his birth. Her abdomen, once hard as a rock, now sagged and rolled in ways it hadn’t before.
She was an immortal child, the goddess of dawn, the eastern queen.
But more importantly she was a woman.
The stretch marks sketched over her hips were a permanent reminder of the strength she held.
They were her battle scars.
Her magic never manifested, that was true, but in this moment as she looked upon her infant son, she felt more powerful than any of her siblings. More powerful than the primordials before them. She was infinite. She was the sky and the earth and the seas.
She was a mother.