favorite, was quite a target.” Zephysus seemed to uncurl.
“Enlil.”
“I haven't seen or heard from my brother for years.”
“And Atum?” Daeva chuckled and a light breeze came through the window and blew her hair about her face.
“Atum is – different.”
“How so?”
“He never knew his parents. He's only known me.” There was resignation and sadness in her expression. Zephysus studied her. What else lay hidden beneath that beautiful face?
“And still he's at the center of things?” Everyone knew Atum. He was more ferocious than Aries – more frightening than Ammon's reputation had ever been.
“Yes. You could say that.”
“Some say he's spurring the conflict.” Zephysus carefully kept his eyes on his parchment. Daeva was quiet for a moment.
“He only knew the sadness of the thing – the stories we told him. He only saw our rage,” Daeva sighed. “But then he also saw the destruction of humans. He wasn't particularly inclined to side with his nieces and nephews.”
“But he didn't side with Zeus.”
“Of course not!” she spat.
“So how was he convinced to work with you?” asked Zephysus slowly. Daeva looked away.
“I'm not sure he ever did, just the way I thought Ahura was never completely on our side.” Zephysus frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“What? About Ahura or Atum?”
“Both.” Daeva stood and walked to the window, looking out at the territory claimed by her lover. Her shoulders sagged and she drummed her fingers against the window sill.
“I always thought Ahura had something to do with my father's kidnapping. He always wanted Father's love. He never fully got it. He wanted to be accepted by Uruk in a way that Ammon never was, and the only way Ahura could was through a lavish show of loyalty.”
“Right.” Zephysus frowned. “And Atum?” Daeva turned towards the poet and smirked darkly.
“My younger brother pays lip service to our cause, but his humanized legions end up with the most casualties. He doesn't discipline his soldiers when someone part human is hurt maliciously. He doesn't care about the derogatory comments. They're almost – encouraged.” Zephysus' brows rose.
“Really?”
“Yes.” She shifted and the pendant fell out, completely visible against her dark blue dress. She smiled as she followed Zephysus' gaze. “It's beautiful isn't it?” she asked as she held it up for closer inspection. As in a trance, Zephysus walked over to hold the thing in his palm.
“I've never seen anything like it.”
“No. You wouldn't. Father made it.” Zephysus nodded. “Do you want to know what my father told me about this?”
“What did he say?” whispered Zephysus, his muscles tense with anticipation.
“He told me to pass it on to the oldest daughter in the next generation – the next girl to have blood of both Lilith and Ammon. He told me she would pass it on likewise.”
“Atum doesn't have any daughters – only sons,” said Zephysus even as he thought about all the sons Daeva herself had birthed.
“And so far I have only sons,” she voiced his thought.
“So then what will you do?”
“He said it would take care of itself.” Zephysus' brows rose.
“Are you pregnant now?” he whispered in wonder, but Daeva only smiled.
“I think that concludes our interview.” Zephysus dropped the pendant and frowned.
“But -” Daeva waved her hand and shook her head.
“It was a pleasure Zephysus. I'm sure we'll meet again soon. I, like Aries, am quite a fan of your poetry.” The comment distracted Zephysus enough to smile.
“Really?!” he beamed.
“Otherworlders can't lie,” she shrugged and gave him a winning smile. “Goodbye.” With that she disappeared, her skirts rustling behind her. Zephysus continued to stare at the doorway long after Daeva's exit. A wistful smile crossed his face.
“What a woman!”
That night by candlelight, Zephysus tried to decipher his notes from his interview with Daeva. It had been rather short, but it was more valuable than gold. He couldn't have gotten the information from anyone except Daeva. She was the only useful living sibling. Ahura had died in battle. Vairya was hidden away from life, cared for by children and grandchildren while she wasted away in madness. Enlil, as Daeva said, hadn't been heard from for years. No one knew where he was. She claimed he still lived in Ammon's veil, but Otherworlders frequently searched the place only to come up empty. It was strange...
And what of the countless children and grandchildren of Daeva's siblings? They seemed to be everywhere. No group was untouched by Ammon's or Lilith's blood. Everything seemed to trace back to them.
Zephysus shrugged. His fascination with the progeny of Lilith and Ammon would have to wait. His bleary eyes were having trouble focusing. His lids had begun to droop. Stretching with a large yawn, he placed his notes on his bedside table. With a gusty breath, he blew out the candles. Then, he hunkered under the thick down covers, closed his eyes, sighed, and fell asleep.
“Zephysus?” The unfamiliar voice came from his study in the top of Aries' tower. “Zephysus?”
He stood at the bottom of the tower stairs, glancing around. The air was calm and cool. From one of the arrow slit windows he could see a fine mist across the field below. Was it just past dawn? He couldn't be sure. The song was over – or it hadn't begun. The cloud cover was too thick to be certain one way or another.
“Zephysus!” the voice called more urgently – a man's voice. There was no question now. “Zephysus!” It was smooth and soft, yet projected with ease. It was full of command – of authority. Through more curiosity than obedience, Zephysus sped up the stairs to his study. When he reached the doorway, he stopped short.
His papers were askew – some torn, crumpled, or thrown this way and that. His various knick-knacks acquired by Aries and given to him for 'inspiration' were all over the floor. Pools of ink covered his chair, desk, and floor in various shades of blue, black, and brown. The gentle white curtains at the window were entrancing in a gentle breeze. A wind chime from the courtyard below echoed their movement.
“Zephysus?” The voice was more gentle now and close. Zephysus jumped, his mind alert.
“Hello?” asked the poet as he cautiously stepped into the room.
Once he entered, he saw the first movement. From the deep recesses of his study, the last part still in darkness, came a rustling. The shadow unfurled, opening and expanding, until a striking figure stood before him. Zephysus stared.
“I need your assistance.”
“Atum?” asked Zephysus, wondering why the warlord would have come to Aries' keep. But the man shook his copper head and smiled. His eyes glowed as they turned from brown into a deep burning red. The poet's eyes widened. “Ammon?!”
“Yes.”
“H-h-how can this be?” asked the poet, his hand catching the nearest upright chair for support.
“We don't have much time.” Zephysus furrowed his brow. Ammon took a step forward. “I need your assistance.”
“Assistance?” blurted Zephysus dumbly. Ammon's brow quirked as his eyes turned orange.
“I've said so twice. Do not make me repeat myself again.” Zephysus quailed.
“Yes. Alright. With what?”
“I need you to write something for me.” The poet grimaced at the legend before him and sat down.
“Write something for you?” This time Zephysus' brow quirked. “What do you need me to write?”
“It's not a poem or anything like. Just a message – a letter.” Zephysus frowned. He wondered why Ammon would ask this of him. Surely there were scribes that could be asked to write a letter. He was a poet. Poetry was his calling, not transcription.
“To whom?”
“Everyone.” The poet sat in silence as he digested Ammon's response.
“You want me to writ
e a letter to the entire Otherworld?”
“There's something in the wind for you – for us all. The brownies know it. The unicorns know it.” Zephysus shook his head in confusion.
“Brownies? Unicorns?”He'd heard of the species – the ones from Ammon's veil, but no one had seen or heard from them for centuries. If Daeva and her siblings had anything to do with the two peoples, she hadn't let anyone know. Zephysus wasn't sure they existed, except now Ammon was intimating they did. If Ammon was saying this, they must be real, mustn't they? After all, he shouldn't be able to speak to Ammon at all. Zephysus blinked as he struggled with his disbelief at the situation before him.
“Let's be very clear. I will return. Lilith will return. Lilith will end what she started. We will be together, all of us, and no one will be able to tear us apart – though they will try. They will try time and again. Old enemies in new skin will try to prevent our reconciliation. Old friends will help us in ways they never have before. There will be redemption. There will be change. The destroyers will be stopped, one way or another, by the same hand that brings their salvation.” Zephysus' eyes widened.
“What are you saying?”
“The two of us will be one. One will heal the Otherworld. In that healing will be a choice, for destruction or salvation,” Ammon smiled darkly, “though it is impossible to have one without the other.”
“You will return?”
“So you will write.”
“Do we all?” asked Zephysus tentatively.
“We do.” Zephysus screwed up his face in thought and Ammon smiled. “We are old friends, after a fashion.”
“We are?”
“Search yourself. You know it to be true.” The
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