134. Azrael #2
Feeling like even more of an asshole, I murmur an apology as I close my eyes, drawing in another deep breath as I sink back into the couch. Zeus places his head in my lap and I absently stroke the backs of his floppy ears. “I need this. I need... reprieve.”
A few silent moments pass and I open my eyes to find them watching me. Waiting.
“There’s a reason why death is a natural cycle of life. And part of that is forgetting. Resetting. Resting. Healing.”
Mors shakes his head. “I understand, Azrael. You know of all people, that I do, but?—”
Before he can say no, I cut him off. “Every soul that enters Avernus, drinks from it, so why shouldn’t I?”
Persephone’s words cause my stomach to churn with guilt. “And how do Violette and Levi feel about this? And Lazarus?”
My gaze falls to hers, and her expression tells me she already knows the answer.
I remain silent because... what can I say?
Her expression turns scornful. “Az, you can’t be serious.”
A tremor takes root in my hands, and for a moment, I second guess this absolutely shit plan.
Mors remains silent, but there’s an understanding in his gaze. Hope sparks inside me.
“You drank it,” I remind him.
I remember hearing all about it when I was locked in a dungeon in his daughter’s palace.
“Not willingly.”
Mors’ frown deepens. “You’re aware the memories come back... Because you’re a god.”
I give him a look that reminds him he’s speaking the obvious. “Yes... Clearly.”
His smirk turns rueful.
“Little by little, your memories will return. Though you will forget everything essential to your very self. Not mere memories of people and events, but how to function and behave in the world. How to use your power. You won’t even recall having any power.
And because of it, you will be at the mercy of the world.
You will feel mortal. You will think you’re mortal—until one fateful event you discover otherwise.
All that will remain is language and intuition. ”
Considering the fact that, until about an hour ago, I was mortal this hardly sways me, however...
“Unless you show me otherwise..."
Persephone palms her face and Mors stares blankly at me as though I am utterly obtuse.
“Is that your second favor?”
Shit.
I give him an apologetic smile. “No?”
He huffs a sardonic laugh. “So you have three favors to ask?”
I wince. “Four, technically.”
Mors heaves a sigh. “Do I dare ask?”
I roll my eyes. “Need I remind you of the numerous times I?—”
Mors is swift to cut me off with a flat, but firm, “No.”
I chew my lip for a moment considering how best to word this as my gaze returns to Persephone. “After you help me reacclimate myself to... myself, I want you to bring me back to Violette and Levi.”
They exchange a look before nodding. “Ok. And the fourth?”
Steeling myself, I hesitate for a moment. It is no small favor.
“Seeing as how my realm is still in recovery, and both Violette and Levi eventually enter your after realm, I want you to return their souls to me.”
Akash, please, let there be a way...
Mors’ brow hardens. “Azrael... As much as I would love to be able to grant you such a wish, you of all people, know why I cannot. Not only would they have no corporeal form to return to, but you would be forsaking them the very respite you seek... And how would they reincarnate?”
Guilt churns in my gut. It would be impossibly selfish.
“Just as you gave Lazarus—the other me,” I clarify, “A body, you could grant them the same.”
Persephone frowns. “They are not meant to spend eternity in the same incarnation, Azrael. No one is..." Her words drift but her lips, briefly, remain parted as if holding back the words, except us.
The unbearable weight of hopelessness crushes my chest.
“And if I chose to join them in Avernus?”
Mors’ brows lift. “As you might imagine, my daughter might have some qualms about that..."
Fuck.
Yet again, my past comes back to haunt me.
Mors’ expression tightens. “You should know that when your memories return, you’ll be forced to relive all the grief and heartache you’re trying to escape..." He pauses, gaze burning into me though his voice softens with empathy. “There is no escape, Azrael.”
Tears well in my eyes once more as I stare up at the ceiling from my sunken position on the couch. “How long will I have?”
Mors and Persephone remain silent. My head lolls to the side to meet their gazes, and their twin scowls give me a fresh burst of hope. “Well?”
Mors sighs before finally admitting, “A hundred years or so before things start trickling in..."
“Not all of your memories have returned?”
His expression reveals nothing. “Only the most recent centuries.”
The most recent centuries? That’s a microcosmic speck in the eternity I’ve lived.
“That’s good enough for me.”
When neither of them reply, my impatience flares.
“Don’t make me show up at your temple in Atratus and start killing your pharalaki to force my way into your domain’s portalway.
Your daughter would hardly be pleased. If she could kill me, she’d already have done it, but much to our mutual dismay, her efforts were an exercise in futility. ”
Mors heaves a long suffering sigh, shaking his head. “Gods, you really are..."
His words come to a halt, seemingly impeded by the compassion he’s known for.
So I finish the sentiment for him. “The worst?”
Mors frowns. “I was going to say stubborn.”
Oh.
Persephone looks nothing short of despairing. “Is there truly nothing that will change your mind?”