133. Violette
VIOLETTE
Despite losing track of time at our broom closet rendezvous, Lazarus eventually fulfills his promise and takes me to Tempus’s domain.
We’re standing in front of a glass palace cloaked in darkness, illuminated solely by distant starlight, and I turn to stare out at what I can only describe as a cosmic soup of bubbling stars, water, plasma, and other things I don’t have names for. "What is that?”
Lazarus stares out at the expanse with a furrowed brow, not looking nearly as impressed. “It’s known as the ocean of time.”
My brows lift. This ocean of time looks more like a swamp to me, but I suppose swamp of time doesn’t have quite the same ring to it.
Steam rises from the bubbling regions of its surface while other areas are near crystalline.
The water is so clear I’m not entirely sure if the stars within are being reflected from above, or are visible below.
As beautiful as it is disturbing, it hardly looks welcoming.
Eventually, my eyes focus on the horizon, and I realize... we’re standing in a firmament. The curve of the horizon is low enough to reflect the strange water below on its crystalline surface.
My voice is breathy with awe.“Fascinating..."
Lazarus gradually nods. “They’re more common than you’d think.”
That draws my gaze. “Firmaments?”
He nods.
I’m about to ask which realms exactly, but the soft padding of footsteps sounds behind me draws my gaze, and I turn to find... a boy?
He looks like he can’t be older than seven or eight years old. His dark skin and long mane of hair practically glow, as does the unsettling, fangy grin he gives us.
Lazarus’ expression tightens with displeasure. “Tempus.”
My brows leap.
Tempus seems pleased by my reaction. The boy’s eyes, a shade of the brightest gray I have ever seen, glitter in anticipation as he speaks in a deceptively light, tinkling childlike voice. “My oldest friend.”
Tempus’s eyes slide to mine, and it causes a chill to race up my spine. “And his lovely new mate. So very much has changed since we last saw one another... I must admit I have been looking forward to this. I don’t get many visitors,” his words turn pointed, “And never any as gifted as you.”
Lazarus’ expression darkens into a scowl as his hand slides into mine, holding it protectively, and voice turning dry with boredom and disdain. “I can’t possibly fathom why.”
Tempus giggles, gaze darting between the two of us. “Happy to see your charm hasn’t waned in the slightest.”
Lazarus was right. There is something so unsettling about this god of chronological time that it causes a knot of anxiety to form in the pit of my stomach. His pale eyes dip to mine.
The sharp edges of his smile turn the expression greedy.
Desperate.
“You have something for me.”
My brows knit together as my wariness increases. “It isn’t for you.”
Tempus chuckles again. “Oh, but you do. It’s all part of our bargain.”
Lazarus protectively curls his arm around me. “There will be no bargaining or vows.”
Is this a bad idea? Everything within me urges me to run.
Tempus rolls his eyes. “So distrustful. Who hurt you?”
Lazarus gives him a bored look as I have second thoughts. “Maybe this is a bad idea..."
It’s my only idea.
Tempus’ child-like glee vanishes, replaced by an alarmingly convincing pout, coupled with wide watering eyes. “Oh, please don’t go.”
Pity and disgust roll through me—how easy it is for him to switch masks.
Is it a mask?
Before I can reply, the boy before us grows into a fully grown male.
His height rivals Azrael’s, as do the rippling muscles bulging beyond the toga-like garment he’s wearing.
The voice he speaks in now rivals the depths of the sea.
“Is this better? I thought perhaps you might find a child less threatening.”
My jaw hangs open in shock as his form ages further; only stopping when his muscles atrophy and skin begins to sag. “How about this?”
Tempus grins again, now absent of several teeth. “Or do you prefer a more paternal visage?”
Lazarus heaves a sigh, rubbing his brow with thumb and forefinger. “Enough theatrics, Tempus.”
Tempus proceeds to shift into the form of a middle-aged male once more, laden with muscle, a long braid of salt and pepper hair, and a mouthful of white teeth made even brighter against skin that is somehow both radiant and tenebrous.
My patience wears thin, and I raise my hand to make him stop shifting. “What do you want in exchange?”
There’s a knowingness in his eyes—because of course there is, he’s probably watched a thousand versions of this interaction already. But behind his jarring exteriors, I do see an earnest hope flickering in his shimmering eyes. “My soulbound.”
Ah. I should have guessed.
“... And that is all?”
He tilts his head at me as though surprised by the question.
“There is nothing more I wish for.”
I study him, internally deliberating whether or not I’d be dooming his mate by making their paths cross. Also...
“You’re unable to find them yourself?”
He shakes his head. “There is only one timeline I am unable to view or visit—my own. The only aspects of my future that I am able to see are the moments in which I stumble upon them by viewing someone else’s timelines.”
Gradually, I nod. Cautious, but hopeful that, somehow, some way... this tiny alteration in history might actually make a difference.
Tempus offers me a soft smile as he holds out his upturned palm, waiting. “I’ll fulfill my end of our agreement first. In good faith..."
Still I hesitate. Tempus huffs a laugh. “The last thing I want to do is make an enemy of a death god. Especially not when it comes to my soulbound.” He nods in the direction of the ocean of time. “Nor do I wish to upset a goddess with command of tides and storms.”
Hm.
The fact I would regret not at least trying tips me over the line of hesitation.
Lifting an upturned hand, déjà vu—or perhaps the feeling of rightness, of kismet—washes over me as I will Azrael’s golden pin between thumb and forefinger as my magic engraves my anonymous message to him.
In my periphery, I can see Lazarus’ lips part in awe and realization.
“Azrael told me that you revealed to him and Persephone why they could never be together... because it would be the end of the world as we know it.”
Lazarus’ gaze snaps from the pin to me.
The gold of the pin and the engraved words seem to glitter and gleam in confirmation.
“I want you to give this to him. After you show him the end of the world.”
A corner of Tempus’s mouth curls with excitement, and I’m not sure whether or not to be encouraged or fearful of it. “Oh, I do so love this particular arc of fate.”
I rear back. “There are others?”
His eyebrows hunker down as if I’ve asked an impossibly stupid question. “Always. They're happening now and for all eternity. Unfurling, collapsing, shrinking, and then blossoming again.”
Akash almighty, that gives me anxiety just thinking of it.
I shake my head as if it might dispel any other arc of fate that might be unfavorable to my future with my soulbounds.
Tempus reaches for the pin, but I draw it away, trying to burn the gravitas of my words through my gaze and into him like a fucking laser.
“When you give him the pin, just tell him that it belongs to someone who loves him so much that he cannot escape, no matter how he tries. Not even in death. No matter what betrayal or manipulation he can concoct. Tell him that I am as inevitable to him as entropy. That no matter what fate has planned, he belongs to me and that I will find him. He just... needs to be patient.”
Lazaruss’ hand curls around mine, giving it a fierce squeeze. Tempus studies me for a moment, all masks having evaporated, replaced by a softness, and dare I say appreciation, that gives me hope this might actually work. After a few moments he gives me a nod of confirmation. “It would be my honor.”
Finally, I allow the pin to pass from my fingertips to his as I will a bit of my magic—and my love—into it, praying that it will somehow transcend time, space—and most of all, Azrael’s loneliness and despair.