11. Chapter 11
Chapter eleven
Theron
T he goddess’s voice was soft and melodic. The rhythm thrummed in the young boy’s chest. Warm sunlight bathed his dark hair, and he laughed as the woman took him by the hand and spun him around. She was smaller than he was, but she was larger in life than any other god or goddess he’d ever seen. Her presence was special, warm like the sunlight pooling around them.
He couldn’t make out any words—just the rhythm of her voice. When the deep voice of a god joined her melody, the boy turned and saw the face of a god he recognized from somewhere. But just like with the goddess, he couldn’t hear the words or make them out from his lips. The joy that filled him was enough. He didn’t need the words.
Theron’s eyes opened. The ceiling was a mass of cold darkness—everything that place was not. His eyes burned with a sudden influx of tears, and he turned around as they slithered down his cheek, warm and uninvited. Why did he have to wake up today? For once he wished he’d stayed asleep.
Tossing and turning in his spacious bed, he couldn’t take it anymore. Any of it. Had Thanatos known that immersing himself in the world above would be its own challenge? That Theron would realize he needed to choose the world he belonged to—the world of the night—now that he knew what was up there?
He whipped off the blanket and stalked to the washing room. Removing the thin stone carved at the mouth of the fountain, he pushed away the thoughts that bothered him the most. But they kept coming back, with one question burning like hot coals in the forefront of his mind: were those his parents?
He splashed the water on his face until it was hard to breathe, letting the cool slickness wipe away any sweat that had accumulated during the night. Nonsense , he decided. My parents didn’t love me. Thanatos told me I wasn’t meant to be loved. I have a duty that must be fulfilled. He blocked the spout once more and dried his face. It’s just the way it is.
He tossed the towel on the ground and tried anchoring himself to reality. When he peered up into the pristinely polished mirror, he saw the solemn look of a trained killer, and he was reminded again what his place was in the story of the gods. His head dropped. He couldn’t stand looking at himself—at the dark circles sagging beneath his eyes or the ruffled, unkempt hair that dangled from his head.
If he couldn’t stomach to look at himself, how could anyone else? His hands clutched the sturdy onyx bowl mounted beneath the fountain’s spout. I’m a monster. That’s all there is to it.
That warm sunlight vision was just a dream. Memories like that didn’t exist for someone like him.
Corre
‘Do you truly think I’m a beast?’
Lying on her bedsheets, Corre remembered every detail of the meeting she shared with Theron those few short days ago. Her mind lingered on the way his fingers fell down the slope of her neck in calculated strokes, and on that spark in his eyes, the seductive warmness of his voice.
“Corre?” Her mother knocked on the other side of the door.
Her heart jumped in her throat. “Come in.” The words tripped on each other as she covered her flushed skin with her bedsheets. The door creaked open to reveal her small mother, wound up in an elegant shawl and carrying an oversized travel bag. At Corre’s confused expression, the older goddess sighed. “You forgot, didn’t you?”
“Forgot what?”
“That I’m leaving today.”
“Leaving? Oh!” She had forgotten. Berenice was leaving on an important task to grow an entire forest for the humans. Her last big task before Corre would take her place—one that Corre was initially supposed to go on with her. They thought she’d be ready by now. Berenice loved her daughter enough to lie and claim that Corre was perfecting her skills before her coronation next month, though she did promise that Corre would complete the next task on her own.
“Yes ‘ Oh ,’” Berenice laughed. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. Probably a little under a month. I’ll be back by your birthday, though, so don’t worry. Don’t forget that at least.” She winked, but Corre sunk further into her sheets at the thought.
She wished she could forget.
Her birthday was the big one. Twenty. When she was supposed to be ready to take on her role as Persephone. Phineas was lucky. He’d turned twenty last month but was ready enough to take on his role as the warrior god of Olympus. He’d be gathering his army soon and getting ready for whatever lay ahead. He was being cautious at this point, but he was ready. Corre thought he was dragging his feet, but Athena was fine letting him wait to take on his title. His parents were okay with it, too. Zeus, too, apparently. But the world would wither and rot without Corre taking up hers.
Berenice enjoyed her role as Demeter and would never give it up. Corre was fortunate in that way. But she still knew her mother couldn’t do it alone, yet here she was, a heavy bag slung upon her slight shoulder, ready to take on an enormous job because Corre wasn’t ready to help.
“Thank you,” she said with a sad smile. “I’m sorry I can’t go.”
Her mother waved her hand. “Oh, it’s all right. I’m up for the challenge. An entire forest. Whew! I hope I can do it.” Her mother laughed again, which only made the guilt twist in Corre’s guilt. She knew what it meant when her mother nervously laughed this much. She was hiding what she felt. Masking for Corre’s sake, as usual.
This was her job. Not her mother’s. But just like always, her mother swooped in so that Corre didn’t have to push. Or fail.
“I can go with you, you know.”
“No, no. Stay here. I want you to practice, anyway.” She gave her daughter a kiss on the cheek. “Make something beautiful to show me on your birthday. I’ll be back then. I love you.”
“Love you, too.” Her mother gave her one last smile before shutting the door behind her. Corre let out a long breath and sunk into her bed. I need to get up and walk or my muscles will get worse. Too much time in bed over the last couple of days had left her cramped. Sore. She needed to move or she’d be even more useless in her duties while her mother was away.
She allowed enough time for Berenice to disappear into the woods before she emerged from their cottage, thinking back on the day Zeus had summoned her. He’d wanted to ensure that Corre could take up her mantle in one year’s time. She remembered being frustrated, wondering why it was so important to him that she was ready. Weren’t there more important goddesses to be concerned about?
‘The fabrics of fate can get quite chaotic if one doesn’t fulfill her destiny,’ he’d told her.
She’d nodded. ‘Yes, sir.’
Now it’d been a year, and she felt no closer to becoming Persephone than she had back then. If anything, she felt even worse about it. She wasn’t ready, and all eyes would be on her as she was taken before Zeus on her coronation day.
She let herself flop onto the ground. Mother won’t take me if I’m not ready , she assured herself, but she couldn’t help feeling guilty at the embarrassment Berenice would face over it.
‘The fabrics of fate can get quite chaotic if one doesn’t fulfill her destiny.’
She stared up at the sky. “Surely, it’s happened before,” she muttered. “And here we all are. Still standing and breathing. The world hasn’t collapsed.”
She watched the slow dance of clouds moving through the salt-water sky. Has it happened before? she wondered. I bet it has. They’re just afraid. Everyone was always afraid. It was the general reaction to everything on Olympus if things didn’t go exactly as planned.
Her chest tightened, her breathing becoming quick and frenzied. She had to keep her body moving. No more thinking.
She took deep breaths and tried focusing on the physical sensations around her. The warm air against her skin. The soft soil and grass that cushioned her bare feet. She looked at that little patch of grass she had to spend almost every waking moment within. The one littered with her half-decent creation and wilted trials. Was that going to be her life? Was that her fate for eternity? To visit endless patches of grass once she conquered the ability to decorate each one?
Her mother had the power, too, and she was so good at it. Was Corre really needed? Would anyone miss her if she was gone?
She couldn’t stand it. “I hate that stupid patch of grass.” She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing down the urge to run back inside the cottage and sink into her bed. A thick fog wrapped around her, muddling the thoughts ripping through her brain, causing her limbs to turn into heavy bags of sand. A heavy, invisible blanket rolled down her body, weighing on her—crushing her—inside and out.
She was numb. Lost. Alone.
And tonight would serve as a reminder of everything she wasn’t ready for. It was Apollo and Artemis’s coronation day. The golden children of Olympus—a brother and sister team so committed to each other they refused to hold separate coronations. Their joint birthday wasn’t for another half-year, but Artemis had been ready for weeks, and as soon as her brother was equally ready, they pleaded before Zeus for an early ceremony. For whatever reason.
Likely to passive-aggressively gloat behind a shield of success. They were like that.
Corre would have to remember not to roll her eyes while she attended the ceremony. The twins were not the easiest company. She shivered, remembering when she’d met them. Apollo’s complete disinterest and Artemis’s scrunched face and sticky-sweet smile after Corre had fumbled over an introduction. “Don’t want a repeat of that,” she grumbled, but then she thought of the worst part. At the ceremony, everyone would ask her when her coronation would be. She’d have to be tactful, put up a wall. Put on a mask. Tears burned in her eyes. “Forget it. I can’t do this.”
“Can’t do what?” A voice like silk rippled through the air.
Corre sucked in a nervous breath. Biting her tongue, she opened her eyes. His hair was brushed back as slickly as his voice, and the cape rippling behind him caused his massive frame to take up even more space—shadowing more of that wretched grass. “You again.” She didn’t say it as icily as she thought she would.
Theron’s lips curled into a wicked smile. “Correlia.” Corre hated the way his voice melted in her ears. Worse was the way her body warmed as he slowly made his way to her. Juxtaposed beneath the sunny sky, this unnervingly handsome god with skin pale like a cloud-soaked moon and hair blacker than the night sky, Theron was a walking poison—a personified curse. As far as she knew, there was no elixir for this dark spell he cast upon her whenever they met. Stalking closer, that same black cape snapped in the wind behind him.
“What? You’re tracking me now?” She tried to sound indifferent, but it was harder the closer he got.
“What can’t you do?” The words purred out of his mouth. Corre had to look away.
“Ignoring the question?” She folded her arms but still couldn’t get herself to look directly back at him.
His presence loomed closer, and she had no choice but to return his gaze. “I’m just curious.” His dark eyes peered down into hers, “What task could be so difficult that Correlia of Olympus is unable to complete it?”
“Why should I tell you anything? I don’t even know why you’re here.” She managed more of a bite in her voice this time, but it only made that wicked smile spread wider across his face.
“I’m here for a reason, just like before.”
“That reason being?”
“Maybe a little of the same, maybe a little more.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she scoffed.
His eyes narrowed and then unnarrowed, like he was impressed or intrigued at her questioning. “It’s a secret.”
“Then I guess my task is a secret, too.”
“I’ll tell you what.” His breath on her skin made her momentarily falter, but she stayed strong, arms crossed and eyes glowering into his. “You tell me, and I may tell you.”
She let out an exasperated laugh and dropped her arms to her side. “I don’t care why you’re here, so why would I make such a stupid bargain?” It was bold of her to lie, but he seemed to accept it.
“Because I can help you with whatever it is.”
“I don’t need help. It’s just a stupid party.” She suppressed a breath and clamped her mouth shut.
His smile widened again at her slip-up. “A party?”
She sighed. “Yes, a party. Are you happy to know that my ‘task’ is attending a stupid party?”
He laughed, a low, pleasant caress against her eardrums. “A little. I can see the reason you wouldn’t want to go. Crowds of people are insufferable.”
“How would you know? Are there ceremonies down in the Underworld, too?” She meant it as a joke, but when his smile dropped, she wondered if there were ceremonies and what they were like. “Should I take that as a ‘yes’?”
He turned away from her, slowly pacing the field of flowers. His eyes lingered on each one. Crouching down to hold a lavender lily in his hand, he said, “Not the kind someone from Olympus would want to attend.”
His fingers stroked the petals gently—a jarring scene from the large, gloomy figure before her. Birds flew overhead, but his eyes stayed on the plant at his feet. He must not be used to colors like these. When his eyes found a blossom with a soft pink hue, he crept toward it, and Corre’s heart jumped.
“Wow,” he breathed. “This is magnificent.”
“Oh, that? It’s nothing.” But Corre very well knew it wasn’t nothing. It was her flower. Amongst all the creations that circled the cottage created by her mother, he singled out hers and found it magnificent.
“Did you create this?”
She shifted her weight awkwardly. “Yes, but I’m still working on it.”
He took one last look at it before straightening himself. He turned to face her, and her jaw subtly dropped at the sudden change in his expression. His features were soft—his eyes were off somewhere else, his thoughts roaming with the wind.
Her heart sped. Theron is here. Here . At my house. What do I do? She took another moment to compose herself before clearing her throat. “I have to get ready. You really need to leave.” She managed to get the words out boldly, but she was still worried he’d see right through her.
His eyes found hers again, and his face tightened to its usual scowl. A twinge of regret surfaced in her chest, a confusing feeling that made her want to retreat into her house even more quickly. “Goodbye,” she said and turned to her house.
“Wait.”
She stopped but didn’t flip back around.
“What’s this party going to be like?”
What? She couldn’t help turning around to examine him. His features had softened again. The ever-changing expressions on his face made her even more confused. And intrigued. “Loud,” she said. “Crowded. The two gods being given their titles today are insufferable, so a lot of pretending will be involved, I assume.”
She jumped when he snorted. “Now that is something I understand completely.”
“You do?” She caught herself before further revealing any interest. Why should she care what he does or doesn’t understand? He wasn’t even supposed to be up here.
“Unfortunately.” He wiped the dirt off his hands. He wasn’t wearing his gloves today, and something about seeing his hands made her breath quicken.
Thoughts she didn’t want to entertain knocked on the doors of her mind. Shaking them off, she found herself saying something stupid. “How?” She winced. What is wrong with me?
“You may not believe it, but Tartarus isn’t swarming with gods. I only really have to deal with one—other than my master—but he’s insufferable enough for a thousand others. If I was forced to go to a party honoring him, I’d pull my hair out.”
Corre laughed. Again, that voice in her head screamed at her. She was being stupid and reckless. He was cunning. A flatterer. But she thought of the tales. Everyone said he was a monster. That he was malicious and evil and unlike any other.
No one said he was like this. She looked back up at him and saw him examining the world around them, his eyes returning to the plants and a bird perched on the windowsill a few paces behind her. “But,” he continued, “I think you could still have a good time. You gods up here are pampered. I’m sure you’ll get plenty to eat and drink.” Corre wanted to refute and tell him how wrong he was—how insufferable he was for saying such a thing—but his voice was seeped in a sort of sadness. Like he was envious of the pampered lives of those he mocked.
What was the Underworld like? Surely his life wasn’t as miserable as the tales told. They were vicious depictions of demons wailing and Hades sucking the souls out of humans. She was once told he was rejected even by his family. That he was that bad. But that was the part that always bothered her. How could any god be destined to be evil? And if he was, if the stories were true, wouldn’t that mean he was raised in that torment?
Were the stories of who he truly was or who he was supposed to become? Just like with Corre and the stories of Persephone and who she ought to be.
“Have you…ever wanted to live on Olympus?” she asked, deciding to permanently shut that voice of reason out of her mind, at least for today.
He didn’t look at her. His eyes stayed locked on that pink plant. Her first creation. She hadn’t even given it a proper name yet. “Sometimes.” He said it quietly. Maybe he hadn’t meant for her to hear it.
She wanted to ask what Tartarus was like but decided against it. Instead, she asked something else. Something far less responsible. “Would you like to try? Just for today?”
His eyes snapped up and he stared at her like she was crazy. “What?”
“The party. The coronation…it might be good for you to see. How insufferable it is, I mean. Maybe then you won’t wish you lived here.” She laughed awkwardly, but fear bundled in her stomach. This is a bad idea . “You know what, forget it—”
“All right.”
She stared at him in shock.
“But that doesn’t mean I want to live here,” he quickly added. “I know how gods treat each other on Olympus. It’s a different kind of suffering.” The words weighed heavy on Corre’s shoulders, but she didn’t understand them. “It doesn’t matter. I can’t go. I’ll be recognized.”
Before she could think better of it, she nodded toward her house. “Follow me. We’ll see if it can work.”