by Aimee Carter
Moving past Cronus as if he wasn’t even there, Rhea knelt beside Calliope’s empty body. “My daughter,” she whispered. At her touch, the blood disappeared, and the knife fell to the ground, dull and void of Titan power. “What has happened to you?”
I wiped my eyes, smearing blood across my face. The overwhelming weight of what I’d done hit me, and my body sagged under the pressure. I’d killed her child. Everything I’d feared Calliope doing to Milo, I’d done to Rhea. I really was a murderer.
I hadn’t meant to do it though—I’d only been protecting myself. Calliope was the one who hadn’t given up. She was the one who’d gone after me. She was the one who’d started this all.
If I’d had the chance to do it again though, I would have. “I’m sorry,” I said thickly. “I had no choice.”
A silver tear rolled down Rhea’s cheek. “No, I suppose you did not.”
One by one, the other gods joined us on the roof, no longer hindered by Cronus. They didn’t go to Calliope and Rhea, though; instead they appeared in a circle around Ava, Nicholas and me.
Walter arrived first, and he sat on the cracked roof beside me, drawing her head into his lap. He petted her hair, whispering words I couldn’t hear, and Ava smiled weakly. A strange light emanated from his hands, and I knew without asking that somehow he was keeping her alive.
“Please, Mother,” said Walter, his voice choked. I’d never seen him cry before. “You cannot save your daughter, but you can save mine.”
Rhea grew still. “What’s done is done. My daughter chose this path, and so did yours.”
The world around me narrowed until all I could feel was Ava’s hand in mine, growing colder by the second. No. No. It was completely within Rhea’s power to save Ava. She had to.
“You can’t just let her die.” I struggled to stand, but someone set their hands on my shoulders, holding me down. Henry. “All she was trying to do was stop Cronus. She was doing what you wouldn’t.”
Rhea said nothing. Cronus knelt beside her, and though his expression was emotionless, he touched Calliope’s face.
“Please, Cronus,” I begged. “Ava doesn’t have to die.”
He looked at me, and in that moment, I allowed myself to hope. Maybe after all this time, he’d gained an ounce of humanity. Without a word, he gestured toward us, and a wave of pleasant numbness passed through my body. The fire inside me cooled. He’d healed me. He understood, after all.
I clasped Ava’s hand and looked down at her, but instead of stopping, blood flowed from her chest with every weakened beat of her heart. “But...” I looked up, and Walter bowed his head.
“She does not have to die, but she will,” said Cronus. “Consider us even.”
The edges of my vision darkened, and the sunset sky seemed to spin until everything was a blur. “Even?” I whispered, and as if every drop of grief and despair and guilt rushed out of me at the same time, I screamed, “You’re letting her die so we’ll be even?”
I struggled against Henry’s grip, but he wrapped his arms around me so tightly I could barely move. “Kate, calm down,” he said, his breath warm against my ear, but it was pointless.
“He’s killing her!” I shrieked, and James knelt beside Henry. My outrage smothered the relief that came with knowing he was all right. “It’s not my fault—you can’t make this my fault!”
It’s okay, whispered Ava’s voice, and her fingers tightened around mine. You’re right. It isn’t your fault.
I clung to her hand. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It shouldn’t be like this.
But it is. I’m ready.
A loud, hiccupping sob escaped me. We’ll find a way around this, I promise. I’ll find a way to fix you.
A faint smile appeared on Ava’s bloodstained lips. Not this time, Kate. I love you. We all do, even if some of us aren’t very good at showing it sometimes. Her blue eyes, fast draining of life, turned toward Henry. Don’t forget that. Or me, okay? I won’t ever fade completely as long as someone’s here to remember me.
I couldn’t breathe. Sob after sob ripped through me, and it was all I could do to speak. “I won’t.”
One by one, the members of the council joined Ava to silently say their goodbyes. Everyone, even Dylan, cried wordlessly. As destroyed as I was, it had to be nothing compared to what they were all going through, and I forced myself into silence. But even though it was selfish, I couldn’t let go of her hand. Walter didn’t stop stroking her hair either, his fingers glowing with the only thing keeping her alive. In those precious few minutes, he aged a thousand years.
At last, as the sun dipped below the horizon, the light in Walter’s hands died. And just like that, Ava was gone.
The world went silent. Even the ocean grew still, and the violet shades of dusk hung in the sky far longer than they should have. No one spoke. No one moved. No one took that step from before into after, and we all lingered together in that eternal moment.
It should’ve never ended, but the council couldn’t deny time forever. Eventually Henry set his hand on my back, and though he was gentle, he pried my fingers from Ava’s cold ones. The separation cut through me, but there was nothing I could do. She was dead.
Walter cleared his throat and set her head down on the rooftop. Standing on shaking legs, he struggled to draw himself to his full height, clearly weakened. “An eye for an eye,” he said. “Let it not happen again. Will you go peacefully, Father?”
“No,” said Cronus, and before fury could overtake what little sense of self-preservation I had left, Henry rubbed my back, his touch soothing the fire out of me.
“You will,” said Rhea. “It is over. I will not allow you to continue this cycle of destruction. They have taken one of ours, and we have taken one of theirs. That is the end.”
Cronus’s form began to blur into black fog, but as soon as it started, white light encased him, and he growled. “Let me go, Rhea.”
“I will not,” she said with quiet resolve. “Neither will the council. This is their world now, and you have proven you have no place in it. I will only repeat our son once—will you go peacefully?”
Silence.
“Then you leave me with no choice,” said Rhea, and the light around Cronus grew blindingly bright. I looked away, and Cronus cried out, the first real sound of pain I’d ever heard from him.
Good. He deserved it.
“Stop! I will—go peacefully,” he managed to say, and the light lessened.
“Very well. My son?” said Rhea, and Henry released me.
“I will return shortly,” he said, kissing my hair. “James, take care of her.”
As he stood, James’s arms replaced Henry’s, and for the first time, I took a good look at the council. Everyone was there, even Ella and Theo. Everyone except—
“Where’s my mother?” All the blood drained from my face as the world once again began to spin. “James, where is she?”
“She’s fine,” he said quickly. “I promise. She’s with Milo.”
“I want to see her,” I said, and he nodded, running his fingers through my hair like Walter had done for Ava. Maybe he thought it would help, but the hollowness inside me didn’t lessen. I wasn’t sure it ever would.
Rhea touched Cronus’s elbow, and Henry took her hand. My eyes met his, and he nodded once before the three of them disappeared, undoubtedly back into Tartarus. The last thing I wanted was to let him out of my sight, and familiar dread pooled in my stomach. What if something went w
rong and I never saw him again?
Before my fear could work itself into anything substantial, James gathered me up and helped me to my feet. His cheek glistened, and I brushed the pad of my thumb against his wet skin. “I’m sorry.” I couldn’t say it enough.
James shook his head, his lips moving as he fought to find his voice. I hugged him, and he clung to me, needing me as much as I needed him.
“Come on,” I said. “Let’s go home.”
* * *
My mother was waiting for us in Olympus, rocking Milo’s cradle as he slept. Relieved, I staggered toward her, barely able to see straight.
“Oh, my darling, you’re all right,” she cried, throwing her arms around me. For a moment I couldn’t breathe, but I didn’t care. She was all right, Milo was all right, Henry was all right—
But Ava wasn’t.
All at once, what was left of my inner strength crumbled. “Ava’s dead,” I whispered, choking on the words.
My mother tensed, and from the doorway, James cleared his throat. “Calliope, as well,” he said roughly. “Rhea and Henry are escorting Cronus back to Tartarus now.”
“A small victory,” my mother said as her eyes filled with tears. “At least...at least...”
She didn’t finish. For the first time in my life, my mother shattered. Her knees gave out, and she eased down onto the edge of her bed. Though I desperately wanted to go to Milo, I curled up with her, struggling to hold it together while she cried. She’d spent years pouring her strength into me and hiding her hurt so mine wouldn’t worsen. Now it was my turn.
“The way we treated her this past year...” My mother created a handkerchief and dabbed her eyes. “She shouldn’t have been there. We should’ve let her come back when she asked.”
“It’s not your fault,” I said. Walter had been the one to make that decision. “She tried to tell me why she was doing it so many times, and I never listened. Cronus—” My voice broke. “He wouldn’t save her. He healed me, and he could’ve healed her, too, but because of me—because of me, he refused.”
My mother leaned her head against mine and drew me into her arms. “It is not your fault either,” she croaked, but there was conviction in her voice. “Cronus would have never saved her, even if you’d been by his side and fulfilled your promises to him. Honor means nothing to him. He is defined by the power he has, and all you did was bruise his ego. You did not change who he is or who he chooses to be.”
I hiccupped. “I hated her so much. I thought—I blamed her for everything, and all she was trying to do was help me or—look after Milo or—or save Nicholas’s life. And Walter—”
“Walter did what he had to do in order to win the war.” My mother tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “He has his own demons to face now.”
My chin trembled. “I should’ve done something. I should’ve listened or—or fought for her or forgiven her or—anything.”
“You did,” said James. “You did all of those things. Your mother’s right. It isn’t your fault, it isn’t her fault, it isn’t—it isn’t Ava’s fault. It’s Calliope’s. And she’s gone now. There’s nothing more we can do but remember Ava and keep on loving her.”
I nodded tightly. I could give her that, and I would. We all would.
In the cradle, Milo let out a soft cry. “It seems like someone’s eager to see you again,” said my mother. Despite her red-rimmed eyes, she managed a smile as she scooped him up. “Do you want to hold him?”
More than anything in the world. As I reached for him, however, I hesitated. A few more inches, and I would feel him. He was really there. An invisible barrier full of questions and doubts held me back, and I lowered my hands into my lap. “What if I can’t do this? What if I can’t be his mother?”
“You already are,” she said, and I shook my head.
“I’m not as good at this or—or as strong as you are.”
She rested her head against mine again, and her hair tickled my neck. “Yes, you are. In so many ways, you’re stronger than I’ve ever been. Sadness doesn’t equal weakness, sweetheart. If anything, it shows the love you have inside you, and nothing stronger in this world exists. Ava knew that better than all of us.”
A shadow moved in the doorway. “Your mother’s right, you know,” said Henry. “The best way we can honor Ava is by loving the people in our lives as much as we can. That’s all she would have wanted.” Sitting on the mattress beside me, he gave my mother a smile. “I see you’ve met my son.”
“He’s beautiful,” said my mother, and Milo let out another soft wail. “He wants you, Kate.”
Wiping my cheeks with my bloody sleeves, I nodded. My mother placed Milo in my arms, and he settled against me, a perfect fit. He was warmer than I’d expected, and heavier, as well. Turning his head toward me, he nuzzled my chest, and my heart nearly burst.
“Just like this,” murmured my mother, adjusting my elbow so I was supporting his head. “There you go.”
“Look at that,” said James. “You’re a natural.”
As Milo calmed, he stared up at me with his big blue eyes. Whatever connection we’d managed to forge before intensified, and in that moment, my world shifted. He was so beautiful and innocent, and I would spend eternity making sure he had the chance to stay that way. He would never know war or hatred or the agony of loss. He would never spend his days counting down to a loved one’s last. He would never feel alone or unworthy or unloved. He would know happiness. He would know peace. He would know family. And he would always have me and Henry.
A tear dripped down my chin, falling and hitting Milo on the nose. He made a face, and Henry chuckled.
My mother stood. “I’ll leave you three be,” she said, and though she was smiling, the grief hadn’t left her voice. I wasn’t sure it ever would completely. Together she and James exited the room, closing the door behind them.
“He looks so much like you,” murmured Henry. “Every time I held him, all I could see was your face. I missed you, Kate.”
I brushed my knuckles gently against Milo’s cheek. He may have had my eyes, but he had Henry’s dark hair. And his ears. “Whatever happened on the island between you and Calliope...”
He tensed. “Kate, I—”
“It doesn’t matter.” I looked at him. “You did what you had to do to protect Milo. I know that.”
His hand slid up my back, and he squeezed my shoulder. “Nothing happened. Ava never used her powers on me. I was pretending the entire time.”
I leaned forward and kissed him. His lips were sweet against mine, and I didn’t let him go until Milo whimpered between us. We both knew pretending meant he’d somehow had to convince her he loved her. Part of me burned with the need to hear everything, but none of it mattered, and I wasn’t about to let Calliope hurt us from the grave. Whatever Henry had endured, we would get through it together. One day, if he wanted to talk about it, I would listen. But until then, I would pretend I believed him. To protect and love him the way he protected and loved me.
We were a family, and no one, not Calliope, not Cronus, not even death itself, could take that from us.
Chapter 20
Eternal
Sometime during the night, I untangled myself from Henry and slipped out of bed. He slept soundly, clearly exhausted after the battle, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t fall asleep.
Reaching into the cradle, I touched Milo’s forehead to make sure he was still there. Reassured by the rise a
nd fall of his chest, I padded out of the room, closing the door behind me. Even in the dead of night, the ceiling glowed brilliant blue, and the magnificent sunset swirled underneath me.
I didn’t consciously decide where to go. One minute I stood in the hallway, and the next my feet carried me into the throne room in search of someone else. After the evening we’d all had, chances were slim anyone else would be awake, but it was worth a shot.
In the entranceway, I stopped cold. The sky wasn’t blue here; instead the ceiling was dark as night, and the stars twinkled above us. The thrones were gone, and in their place a glass coffin rested on a raised platform. Inside, dressed in a white gown with roses in her hair, lay Ava.
Without thinking, I crossed the room and pressed my palm against the glass. Her lips were the color of cherries, and in the dim light, I could almost see her smile.
A lump formed in my throat. I opened my mouth to say something—to apologize, to promise I’d never forget her, to forgive her again and again until the universe had no choice but to believe me—but I couldn’t force out the words. She couldn’t hear them anyway, and I’d said it all in her last moments. She already knew.
“She isn’t really there.”
I scowled. “Leave me alone.”
A rustle of fabric, soft footsteps, and Walter stood by my side, looking every bit as aged as he had on the rooftop. “It’s a reflection of sorts, but more realistic than a simple picture.”
I pulled my hand from the glass and shifted half a step away from him. “Where’s her body?”
“Gone,” he said. “Back into the universe.”
“Then why is this—this hologram here?” The empty throne, the empty bedroom, the empty hole in our lives where she’d once been—as if all of that wasn’t enough to remind us she was gone.
Walter inhaled deeply, and as he exhaled, faint thunder rumbled through the throne room. “She lived a very long time, and her life touched many others. Those who wish to say their goodbyes will have the opportunity to do so.”
