Chapter 32 Eros #2
Eros meticulously scrutinized her every move, memorizing her knocks to make sure that he could later access the room by himself.
The sound of the wall shifting after a final knock, unveiling a hidden passage that started with a set of stairs, reverberated throughout the entire house.
The wall’s slow, steady movement, marked by a deep, grinding rumble akin to stone against stone filled the area, while dust and small debris detached and fell with a soft sputter.
“Remain here and await my return,” Eros commanded, continuing onward and descending the steps.
His mind was consumed with formulating a variety of scenarios, which is why he paid no attention to the nymph’s response. His primary objective was the discovery of something that would compel Zeus to listen and to ensure that Charisma could be brought back to him.
Walking down the stairs, he emerged into the darkness of the cellar, encountering an acrid odor that was a mix of different potions and chemicals combined with a pungent smell of mold and wet stones.
When he placed a foot into a puddle, the whole basement became illuminated by the white flame of multiple torches, as if they had sensed his presence.
Before his eyes, meticulously crafted bars constructed from ancient steel towered around the room and Eros recognized their ancient magic. He felt dark magic radiating from them and felt himself being engulfed by it.
His heart sped up as he approached, and this change in his physical state served as a warning that Charisma was, without a doubt, dealing with a challenging situation. He felt a sense of panic take hold of him, gripping him as his hand instinctively moved to rest upon his chest.
Charisma, he murmured in his head and felt the urge to hit the wall next to him. He could not stand the thought of her being in pain.
When he walked past the bars, his eyes lowered to the ground. A vague sound of liquid pouring captured his attention.
He kept his hand placed steadily on his heart as his gaze focused when he finally comprehended what he was witnessing. From the ground rose an engraved family tree, whose branches twisted and turned in a spiral pattern, resembling pathways of the constellations within the Kosmos.
As he knelt down to get a closer look at the intricate details, his fingers brushed against the stone, and the carvings present at the end of each branch.
?ρα
(Hera)
Δημ?τηρ
(Demeter)
Ποσειδ?ων
(Poseidon)
The names of the gods were the elements that linked each carved branch. A single name stood out as an anomaly as not being a part of the family tree, but still curiously linked to the name of Hera.
Ζε??
(Zeus)
The subtle sound that Eros had heard earlier was coming from a branch filled with crimson liquid that connected the names of the two gods.
He touched the liquid pouring through the groove, the warm and viscous texture clinging to his fingertip. The branch was covered in bright blood that flowed downward and seeped into every carved letter of the names of Zeus and Hera.
They were perhaps bonded?
No. Not bonded.
An intense beating of his heart caused him to pull his finger back from the blood, shifting his attention to his physical sensations.
Charisma.
He did not feel any pain in either of his arms or legs, nor in any other part of his body, which meant she was not being subjected to any physical torment at the moment.
The only sign of her emotional turmoil was her heartbeat.
He knew she was possibly frightened, or even that she had discovered a way to break free from Zeus’s imprisonment, and her racing heartbeat had caused the surge of adrenaline.
There were many possibilities, but he hoped for the last.
With a swift motion, he tilted his head, trying to shake off his thoughts and concentrate on the task at hand.
Time is running out.
His gaze landed on his finger still covered in blood.
Based on what he had found, it seemed that the link between Hera and Zeus was one of blood, which proved that it was not a normal bond but a curse that was created through the use of dark magic.
To his understanding, when this type of bond occurred, the demise of one god would inevitably lead to the simultaneous death of the other.
One question stood out in his mind.
Why was Zeus omitted from the family tree?
Perhaps that was why Zeus had been so adamant to remain in his father’s temple. He sought to preserve the secrecy of this matter, restricting knowledge of it solely to himself.
However, Eros had other important matters to address.
He wasn’t in a position at this moment to stop and ponder this question. He had other important matters to address.
The death of Hera could perhaps result in the death of Zeus, and eventually in the obliteration of our entire world.
Am I still concerned about it? Certainly not.
The death of Zeus would give us additional time to find out how to activate the communication element of our bonding, allowing me to talk to Charisma and eventually reunite. My bonded is what matters most to me.
That single thought was all it took for him to veyrith to the goddess’s house.
As the night sky covered Olympus, the darkness helped concealed the devastation that had fallen over the entire city.
The effects of Eros’s grief were far-reaching, so much so that even Hera’s formidable palace, formerly distinguished by its golden walls and halls, was now marked by a dull gray color.
The instant that Eros caught sight of her through a side window, his eyes narrowed. Disappointment played upon his lips when he realized she was alone. He had held out hope for a confrontation with Zeus, but fortune was not on his side.
She was seated on a vanity stool, brushing her long, blonde hair, and looking at herself within the mirror’s reflection.
Eros saw something in her facial expression that led him to believe that she might have had a glimpse of the events that were about to unfold—or perhaps she was simply worried about her husband’s disappearance.
He blinked once and materialized directly in front of Hera’s bed, his imposing figure looming over the goddess. As he glanced at her, her eyes grew wider as she caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. Hera turned toward him, reached into her vanity drawer and retrieved a dagger.
“You almost scared me,” she huffed, trying to conceal the fear that was crippling her insides.
As Eros moved toward her, he could feel the crown begin to heat.
He observed the subtle movement of her head as she swallowed the lump in her throat.
Hera stepped back, and her hand shook on the dagger’s handle.
She leaned so far back that her back came into contact with the vanity, causing it to tremble under the pressure of her body’s weight.
“What is the reason for wearing your crown in my presence? If Zeus discovers that you used it on me, he is going to kill you,” she uttered, her voice laced with an icy dread.
At that instant, his crown intensified in temperature, his heart began to race—indicating that Charisma was in danger—and a wave of sharp tingling enveloped him entirely.
He became slowly aware that the light surrounding him was fading, and he was no longer able to sense even the candle that Hera had lit within her room. Darkness enveloped his senses—and then his entire self.