8. Aphrodite
APHRODITE
Olympus
I stand before my altar, with its mirrors from the foot of the bath to the high ceiling. Its edges gilded and the edge of the water littered with rose quartz, vases of flowers, and candles whose flames reflect in the still water.
It’s quiet, apart from the crackling of the fire, as I slip off the silk robe and step into the hot bath, enveloped by steam.
The entire entrance to my sanctuary is carved from aquamarine. It reflects the glimmers of the water so beautifully and the stone wraps itself onto the ceiling. The stones glimmer with otherworldly blues and golds running through them, shining into the water and making it appear as if it goes on forever.
When I close my eyes, the sirens call to me. There is so much love to be given and far too much taken for my liking.
I dip my fingers into the water and let the ripples on the surface settle before I sink my thoughts into it, following the path from past to present to future and back again until I find what I am looking for. What I need to see.
Who I need to see. Who needs me most for their highest self, I whisper as I stare into the flame that reflects in the mirror before me.
Persephone, my sister, is there in the water.
To my shock and confusion.
I recognize her form and her power as easily as I recognize that there is something wrong. I close my eyes and concentrate. Her doubt and fears of what is to come has plagued her, I know. But what I feel is darker. What is coming sends a chill down my spine.
It is like nothing before.
Something has happened. Something has shifted.
It’s as if a person might feel a creature under the water, lurking below, more powerful than a human and more deadly. Persephone’s thoughts are dark like that, and as I concentrate harder, they begin to take a clearer form. The form is mostly a feeling, and that feeling is?—
Cold.
It’s the cold embrace of death. It’s the cold from which mortals never awaken, and which they run from all their lives, whether they realize they’re running from it or not.
I blink away the vision, but the chill still lingers on my skin. “She is a goddess,” I whisper. Things of this nature should not be.
With the unsettled feeling I think of Ares. I need him now to ease this discomfort and fear of the unknown.
Glancing over my shoulder as if someone is there, I see nothing. Not my lover. The darkness though in the water remains when I think of Persephone.
I’ve never felt such things for a god.
I reach more deeply into it, trying to identify it. It reminds me of Ares, but it is not Ares.
It is another presence, close to Persephone. It is not an echo from the past or a possibility. It is someone near to her now, in the present moment.
My thoughts are disturbed as my sister enters my space, and I lose the connection to my power. Athena’s bare feet pad on the quartz floor as she enters. It’s still there, of course, but it’s not as strong as it was, and I no longer sense the other presence as clearly.
As my sister crosses the floor, I try to keep my thoughts with Persephone for a few moments more.
It is not easy. The sound of Athena pulls me toward my physical form and away from the power in my basin. Athena cannot prevent me from using my power, but distractions make it more difficult.
She senses what I’m doing, of course.
Finally, Athena has had enough of waiting. She is not one known for patience.
She clears her throat, drawing a few steps closer, the hem of her long white dress dangerously close to the edge of the water. I do not know who the other presence was. Or—I can’t be sure of who the other presence was. I have an idea, but I don’t want to believe the evidence of my senses.
I will have to try again another time, when I can be certain I won’t be interrupted.
“It is against all laws, what you are considering,” Athena says, and Persephone floats away, her presence obscured from me, though I still feel the echoes.
I draw my fingers from the water and let the droplets fall from my fingertips back to the basin, allowing Athena to see that I have heard her words. I turn them over in my mind with the same kind of patience I hope to demonstrate for her. When I’m finished thinking, I fold my hands in front of me.
“Of whom are you referring?” I ask as if I don't know.
“Ivy. And her demon mate. It is unbecoming of you to meddle in the laws of the realm.”
“She had thoughts of harm,” I say. “I’ve done what I can to help her.” They know me for beauty and selfishness, but it is the thoughts where I wish to dwell the most. “No one should ever wish for such things and the two of them together fixes that. It did not occur when she had her lover.”
Athena scoffs. “A woman has thoughts of harm, and you gift her to a demon?”
I turn to my sister and stare her in the eyes. There is skepticism. We have spent many lifetimes being skeptical of each other’s decisions. We see everything differently, but when I look at her, I try to see that she is my sister first and foremost.
“She has had thoughts of harming herself. You know I cannot allow that.”
Athena narrows her eyes but a twinkle remains on the surface. “Since when are mortal lives so precious to you? Sparta did not know such grace from you.”
I hold her gaze for a few more long moments, then turn back to the basin.
The water is cold against my fingertips as I dip them back in and allow my consciousness to sink into it once again. It allows me to feel the woman’s pain.
It’s sharp and unrelenting, a sorrow that goes so deep it’s almost as if she herself grew out of it. Almost as if she’s always had this lump in her throat and this ache in her chest and an all-consuming sense of doom without him there. As if her soul knew he was missing.
My mind wanders with a reflection in the water once again. Persephone. A connection lies between them, and I cannot place it.
I do not know what it is, exactly, that pains her, because it is hidden in her mind, but it does not matter.
I’m not the only one who notices when things aren’t balanced the way they should be.
“What plagues you now?” Athena asks, concern etched into her question.
“Persephone,” I answer easily.
“You know she is changeable,” Athena tries again. “The Fates cannot be sure of anything.” My sister refers to the foretelling of Persephone losing her powers and living alone as a garden nymph…but that is not what lingers here.
“There is something else.” I try to see it in the flames, but once again I am disturbed.
Athena lets out as sigh, shifting her weight from foot to foot to show me how unnecessary she thinks this is.
“She could’ve fallen for a mortal,” Athena points out, bringing the conversation back to the deal I made with the demon. Her words cut through my thoughts, placed directly into my mind without her having to speak aloud. There are no vibrations in the air to disturb the water in the basin.
Athena sounds sure of herself. She always does. It’s always right and wrong, black and white with my sister. “She should have fallen for a mortal. How were the gates opened between the realms?”
It’s always rules with her.
The gates between realms are not to be opened. I merely allowed it for a moment.
I do not admit that to Athena, of course.
I choose to respond to the heart of what Athena has said, not the words themselves.
“You act as if demons are not worthy of love, sister,” I say into her mind, not letting my voice carry into the water, either. “All are worthy. All should be loved. Even you.”
I truly believe this. It is the guiding light that takes the most room in my heart. All should be loved. I may disagree about how this mortal or that goddess should be loved, but I know they must have it.
Athena’s voice is cold. “I have love in what I do, who I am, and what I will be, and that is enough.” Her choice not to take a lover is for her own.
“And I love you for that,” I tell her, and the harshness softens in her expression.
“And I love you,” she replies, begrudging sincerity in her tone. I haven’t lied to her, and she knows this. “But you haven’t answered my question. How did the portals to the underworld open?”
“Take it up with Hecate,” I reply rather than admitting I signed the deal with Hades for his demon warrior. It was temporary and I can’t imagine whatever shift Athena feels warrants any energy at all. “She should know and besides, the deal is done and it is over.”
“The keeper of the keys and protector of the crossroads? As if Hecate would allow such things for a single love. She, of all gods, knows the comfort in grief.”
The message underlying Athena’s words is that she has no intention of asking Hecate about the gates and considers it a waste of her time to do so.
Good. Athena does not need to concern herself in matters that have passed.
I take several deep breaths and withdraw my fingers from the water. When I turn to face my sister again, I am holding nothing but love for her in my thoughts. I remind myself that all her contradictions serve a purpose in the parts we must play, and if Athena is to learn patience, it will have to be at her own pace, in her own time.
“Perhaps the old crone has love in her heart after all,” I suggest. Stranger things have happened.
Athena faces me, her expression flat, until I go back to the basin.
As I sink into the water, I cannot help but think of the deal I made with Hades and the darkness in the water returns.
“I cannot help feeling something is off since the realm portals have opened—when they should have been sealed,” Athena warns, and a chill goes down my spine.
That is the deal that allowed the realms to open. If Athena knew the details of the agreement, her eyes would widen, then burn with anger, and I do not know how long our discord would last.
I cannot tell Athena and dismiss the thought from my mind as soon as it comes. I won’t let the idea linger for even a few moments and won’t entertain it as a real possibility.
“I mean the very thought that a demon could enter other realms…even Olympus… Does that not concern you?” she asks, and I swallow.
“Athena, please, do you not have other matters to tend to?” She scoffs at my question, leaving me alone in the room with my thoughts, the shift in the air, and her warning.
Hades would be a fool to come here. There’s no chance he would dare show himself in Olympus.
The realization feels as though it strangles me. I felt him when I saw Persephone just a moment ago. It is him. What have I done?
And with that, I leave my sanctuary, in search of Ares.