Chapter 26 The Veil Remembers #2
“Some were hunted. Mortals discovered power in faith, built churches, empires, machines, and fed them with belief stolen from us. They learned to trap divine essence, to harvest it for their own purposes. Cyrus perfected that technique.” His hand tightened on the mug until I thought it might crack.
“Most of us were forced to choose. We could fade into nothing or reincarnate. Start over and hope we’d eventually remember what we’d been. ”
“You didn’t reincarnate,” I stated. “You stayed yourself.”
At that, his eyes met mine again, and I saw centuries of stubbornness written there.
“The Underworld needs a keeper. Someone to guide souls, maintain the balance, and ensure the dead find their way. If I’d reincarnated, that function would have collapsed.
Souls would have been trapped and suffering.
” He paused. “And I had… a more selfish reason.”
“Me,” I breathed.
His smile was crooked, his eyes burning. “I knew you’d be reborn. I thought—” His voice went rough. “I thought if I stayed myself, if I kept looking, eventually I’d find you again. And maybe one lifetime you’d remember before it was too late.”
“That’s not selfish. That’s—” I couldn’t find the right words for the ache in my chest.
“Stubborn,” he supplied. “And a bad habit of clinging to what isn’t mine.” His mouth twitched. “Old habits die hard.”
We held each other’s gaze across the small table, the weight of it so thick I could barely breathe. The café around us faded into background noise.
“So, why aren’t you in the Underworld now? If it needs a keeper, why are you in the mortal world?” I asked.
“My soul is bound there,” he explained. “I have to return every couple of months or so, not just because it’s my duty, but because if I don’t, there are… consequences.”
“Like what?” I wondered.
He winced. “Let’s just say, it is in everyone’s best interest that I return to the Underworld periodically.”
I grimaced, but took that as a sign to drop it for now.
“So,” I continued. “What about the whole ‘Hades makes deals’ thing? That’s in every version of the mythology—you’re always making bargains, binding agreements. Is that actually true?”
His expression became more guarded. “Yes. That part is true.”
“And?” I prompted when he didn’t elaborate.
He hesitated, as if considering his words. “Deals made by gods are unbreakable. Once the terms are set, I can’t back out. Every phrase matters. I’ve seen gods destroyed because they were careless or desperate.”
The weight in his voice made my stomach tighten. “That sounds… dangerous.”
He lifted his mug to his lips, shrugging nonchalantly.
“Have you ever…” I hesitated. “Have you ever made a deal you regretted?”
Something flickered across his face. “Yes. More than once.” I watched his throat work as he swallowed. “Deals that seemed like the only option at the time, but that cost me… more than I anticipated.”
I reached across the table, covering his hand with mine. The contact sent heat racing through me. His fingers immediately curled around mine—the strength and barely restrained need in that grip made my breath catch.
“The mythology gets that part right,” he said, his thumb stroking over my knuckles in a way that felt both soothing and incendiary. “Hades and his deals. It’s not just a story. It’s a fundamental part of what I am. My word is my bond, literally. Once given, it can’t be taken back.”
The way he said it sent a chill down my spine.
“What’s the deal with Leuce? With Luz?” I asked.
Affection and old sorrow crossed his expression.
“You brought her back. After she died, after I’d—” He took a breath.
“After I’d transformed her into a white poplar to preserve what I could of her, you found a way.
As my Queen, you learned to wield power over life and death in ways even I couldn’t fully grasp.
You called her soul back from the Veil, gave her form again. ”
His smile turned nostalgic. “She chose to serve and protect you after that. She said she owed you her second chance at life. Her reincarnations remain more consistent than most other beings. She remembers more, retains more of who she was, because you wove that into the magic that restored her. She’s followed you through every life since, finding you, keeping you safe as long as she can. ”
I smiled at that, warmth blooming in my chest. Something about having a friendship that transcended lifetimes and endured through death and rebirth felt deeply comforting. “She’s still protecting me, even now.”
“Always,” he agreed. “That’s who she is.”
Some of the tension eased from his shoulders. He took a sip of his coffee, expression softening. I glanced down at my wrist, at the six small marks that had been there since birth.
“Do you believe in fate?” I asked, eyes still on the birthmark.
“Fate is mysterious,” he said, his gaze intent on my face.
“I understand very little of it. The Fates weave their threads, but over the centuries of watching you live and die and live again, always making different choices, finding new ways to be yourself, I’ve come to realize how choice impacts everything.
The Fates give us threads, but we’re the ones who weave them into something meaningful. ”
A beat passed, then another. Our eyes remained locked, and the air between us charged with something that wasn’t quite the heat of yesterday but just as powerful.
Gravity. A pull that wasn’t entirely physical but felt just as real.
We sat there for a while, quiet but not awkward, like the world outside was holding its breath.