Beware the Fallen: Young Adult Mythology (Banished Divinity Book 1)

by Logan Delayne

  He was abused because he’d….he’d hurt her.

  “Why…” I was still gasping.

  Milos’ cheeks were ruddy with shame. He could not look me in the eye.

  “You feel it’s your fault?”

  “It was. Is. Had I not given her something to help Alec fall for her, trying to force Alec’s passion…if I had not taken the edge from his control… I didn’t know why. How could I know? He’d been so careful up until that point with the one exception.”

  I did not ask what the exception was, and I did truly not want to know. My stomach turned at what I’d seen and how sorry I was for Alec. I touched my lips. He’d sent Milos to kiss me instead. Had he always done that? And Milos, struck with grief and guilt, had he always done what Alec asked? Stepped in for the one too afraid to make the same mistake again?

  I knew it was so.

  I touched the fabric that embraced my curves. Being on Alec’s island as his prisoner, I’d filled out quite a bit. It was as if my body knew that I was a woman now. The nearness of these…male immortals…it was changing me. Was that how it worked, no matter my age? Would Milos kissing me further my progression?

  Now it was I who was ruddy with embarrassment.

  “It was Alec’s mother’s,” Milos said, and I gazed at him in question. He brushed the fabric the same as I did, eager to move on from the memories he’d given to me. “This dress was hers long ago. Don’t worry, we won’t see her tonight.”

  Cenia’s voice warbled through the halls interrupting the moment, and I sighed in relief at the interruption. She was ordering someone around, her pride growing as she’d found suitor after immortal suitor asking Alec for her hand. Or some, even bolder, had only asked for her pleasure.

  As sorry as I was for Alec, my jaw firmed once more after seeing him earlier, the proud guardian and jailer ready to pawn Cenia off on a human instead. But he allowed them all to think they had a chance, like dangling ambrosia before their lips.

  And she played her role well, too. Despite the funeral, she was shrouded in gold, her veil glowing as brightly as the soft curls it hid. Like a maiden on her wedding day, when she’d returned to the main room, the men had stood so tensely at attention that I’d wilted on the spot. Near to her glow, I shrunk into shadows feeling small, as always. It was silly, frivolous, and I hated myself for jealous thoughts, but there they were.

  Apollo gazed at her as if they were alone. He’d given her those fine robes to wear tonight.

  My mouth parted with a surprising thought that followed, that Alec had given me the dress of a queen. These were far finer than even Apollo’s gilded robes.

  Alec must have noticed my ire with my sister.

  Shame filled me. He deserved none of my anger. None of it.

  “Who was his mother?” I asked, suddenly worried even if Milos had said not to. “These clothes must have come from someone quite regal.”

  “She is,” was all he would say, and his gaze was busy searching mine.

  Did he want my pardon?

  “Milos” I said, “It wasn’t your fault.”

  He nodded and then frowned, distracted. He mumbled something and excused himself.

  I couldn’t help but feel the same amount of confusion as he had. Milos had kissed me. Not Alec.

  And I wished it had lasted longer.

  I’m not sure what surprised me more, the fact that Persephone waited for me to sit next to her at the midnight funeral that was especially for the immortals in attendance, or the fact that I was seated up front with the most prestigious of guests. My sister’s seat sat empty beside me. I tried not to let it hurt my feelings.

  Earlier after the disturbing trip through Milos’ memory, I’d entered her room to find her crying over a letter. I glanced and saw something written in three words “never happening again,” and alarmed, I’d demanded to know what she and Apollo had done.

  She’d begged me to keep silent and promised nothing had happened, all while hiding the letter. I would check later when she was out of the rooms so I could read it over entirely.

  Veil in place, I could survey the immortals without their eyes returning the favor. The underworld sat in my row and the one behind me held some of Heracles’ warriors. “Are you sure I shouldn’t…” I thought perhaps I should move.

  Persephone was not veiled, and she smiled a small turn of lips. She was gazing at my gown with a thoughtful expression. “Please, Freya, stay. I have decided we should become friends.” Her skin was pale in the moonlight, but I remember it sun-kissed. I only saw what I chose to in the small queen. Her spring body and hair with wheat tangled amidst the curls. This dark lady was a mirage because of her link to Hades.

  I searched but did not find the tall king of the underworld and noted that some others were missing as well.

  We sat and waited, and quiet fell. The torches lit and the night was glowing with my grandmother far above. Did she watch me now? Did she wonder what I was doing sitting with our enemies? If so, she did not turn her face away.

  Cenia finally graced us with her presence, her gown glowing as brightly as the torches. She passed Apollo and came to my side. “Sister,” she said from beneath her veil, taking my hand. Hers was cold and she was somber.

  I glanced at her to find tears in her eyes once more. Cenia was quite beautiful as it was, but crying, she was devastating. I was glad for her veil. How many could deny her solace?

  “There,” I said quietly, reaching beneath to touch her cheek.

  “No,” she said, moving my hand away. “I don’t deserve your kindness. I have been an evil sister. I have been so horrid. Forgive me.”

  “Of course,” I said without hesitation. What had happened? What had I missed?

  My heart beat fast. What monster had brought my sister so low while I’d been busy kissing and riding with the brothers? I flushed from head to toe at my carelessness.

  “It is I who have been a terrible guardian over you, my love,” I whispered but she shook her head.

  “You are so sad for your friend. I should be there for you. I wanted to ask you if I should sing? I would…for you. For your human friend.”

  My heart filled with so much love that I could scarcely stand. Cenia’s offering, though many would not understand, was a gift more precious than most any other. “Oh sister,” I said softly. “Please.”

  She nodded and her lips curved but the tears remained. “I shall.”

  We quieted as the precession began. First, there were some in robes, darkly covered, shrouded as the mourners, and these stood silently in bowed sadness.

  I wasn’t prepared for Alec and the rest. I wasn’t prepared for Arman’s body carried by them all. Nothing could prepare me for the sight of them marching in full armor, the armor of the gods, their chiseled expressions one of battle. Hades in obsidian so dark it was as if he blended into the night, and Alec in charcoal that was barely a shade lighter. Milos in red… and so it went. Heracles was also in armor, but his chest was bare. Next to him was Artemis, still in her armor.

  Together, they carried Arman to a place at the front and set him down. Alec raised a hand and the vines twisted from the ground pushing Arman high into the air before they turned brittle enough for Hades to step forward and light the pyre with hellfire.

  They were a sight to behold as warriors, but my gaze was on the profile of Arman’s still and pale face. My knees weakened to see him there, cold and alone, and I felt Alec’s sad gaze upon me as my sister held my hand to keep me standing, feeding me strength. I began to weep in earnest and was thankful for the covering the king gave me.

  I had killed Alec’s close friend and confidante. Truly, they must have been like brothers, and here he’d risked his life for me, for a stranger, and perished. And Alec had not lashed out at me in all this time as he should have. It was I who had been angry with him over a kiss while he’d perhaps only felt the lips of his friend’s reason for death on his mouth.

  I wanted to wail but managed to hold it back as Ar
man’s body burned. Persephone lifted a hand and dark flowers grew before us. I nodded at her in thanks as we each took one to bring to the pyre.

  Cenia brought hers and put it into the flame. Then she turned and began to sing. If Alec was surprised, he did not show it. I knew he’d be glad for the gift when she was through. Of that, I could be certain.

  My sister put sirens to shame with her voice and so it surprised me little when the entirety of Olympus was enraptured by her passion.

  I spied the one I sought in the crowd.

  Apollo’s face shined like the sun, broad angles and beauty defined by deep set golden eyes underneath high brows and above a sharp nose. On anyone else it would be unattractive but on the sun god it was somehow noble, and I now knew how close it was to the statue in his palace from Milos’ memories.

  He’d held a tightness before while watching Cenia, perhaps jealousy. But now I caught him unawares and raw with longing as he truly enjoyed my sister’s gift.

  A flush burned over me and I was glad that he couldn’t see it underneath my veil. The carnality of it all, the masculinity of the procession, had further demonstrated what chaste maidens Cenia and I had been. How sheltered we were from the wars of men and immortals.

  And also hope was beating in my breast that someone would want me with such longing someday.

  When I turned, intense green eyes found me, that which they sought as well. Alec and the others watched us from their place next to the pyre, their faces drawn.

  I waited behind Cenia as she sang, my hands near the warmth, my body cold. As Arman’s was cold. I watched his handsome face melt away, and even though it was a hideous thing, I forced myself to recognize my deeds. How many goddesses had tripped through the human world, crushing those beneath their heels?

  “I am so sorry,” I whispered, and realized when Cenia’s eye caught mine, that my sleeve had dipped into the fire. The vines that made my dress skittered away as if alive and I watched them. My skin however was now exposed to the flames not a sliver away.

  I held my breath and dared to reach for it. I knew the danger. It would mar me forever, but perhaps I deserved it after what I’d brought down on poor Arman.

  The fire of life was a different thing. The fire of death, Hades’ fire, was blue and the blaze of life-sucking tendrils wormed its way up my arm as if the licking flames sought the center of my soul. I allowed it to feast on me, the hungry power of the nether king himself, purging me of my eternity bit by bit.

  I glanced at Hades to find him watching me. His voice was in my head. “Careful. Even one such as you will not return from my flames.”

  Still, I pressed on, revealing to him that falseness of his statement. Though they would try, they could not burn me. The fires of Olympians would not harm me it would seem.

  So, it was true, Hades would have to force me into Tartarus and into imprisonment, because he could not extinguish my soul.

  Their giant had come and tried to kill me and failed. Their messenger had tried to coerce me, rape me, and failed. And their king of the underworld’s flames left my skin unmarred.

  My sister’s voice sang with the glory of a thousand of their suns, and her dark sister stood at her side, bathing unflinchingly in the hellfire of the eternally damned.

  If the Olympians did not fear us titan-bloods already, they had better start.

  There would be food and drink and more drink. There would be dancing and music and gaiety. They claimed to celebrate his life, but I could not pull myself from melancholy quite so easily and so I found myself searching the gardens, hoping to find Charon there waiting for me.

  The slip of silver was spotted easily enough, and it made me smile, the sadness fleeting at the image of the ferryman enjoying the plants. He turned when I said, “I’ve been looking for you.”

  His silver brows arched. “You have…?” He offered me an arm and we began to walk.

  I chewed on my lip and he smiled dryly. “Ask it, Freya.”

  “How did you know?”

  He chuckled darkly. “We have just been at a funeral. I know what is on your mind. It won’t offend me, so ask.”

  “Did you guide Arman to the underworld?”

  He tilted his head, his silver eyes sliding away, his pale hair tickling my elbow. Was that disappointment I saw?

  He nodded. “Thanatos brought him to my boat, yes.”

  We strolled the garden. “Was he peaceful?” I asked, the tears sneaking out and Charon’s kerchief appeared as if by magic.

  “He was very much accepting of his fate. Looking forward to rest, I believe.” He stopped and then faced me. “Do not weep for him, titan-blood. He shall live in peace for eternity. Bliss, even. And you should worry more about those still living.”

  I sobbed a sound, turning my face away. It was real. He was truly gone. What had I done? “I shall never see him again.”

  If he was in elysian fields, I could not follow. Hades would never let a titan live in harmony.

  Charon didn’t argue with that. He’d heard of Hades’ promise to judge me and perhaps send me to Tartarus.

  “Is this why you sought me?” He seemed to be hurt by that, and I shook my head, wiping my eyes.

  I smiled through pain and pulled him into a clearing. “No.”

  Standing close enough to smell the lilac scent of his robes, I pointed into the sky. “Do you see that light, the brightest one? Count from there to the right seven times.”

  “Okay,” he said, intrigued.

  “Do you see the faint light, the eighth one?”

  “I do.”

  I sighed out my sadness finally letting Arman rest. “That is your moon. I have named it Charon.”

  He stiffened. “You jest.”

  “I do not,” I said firmly. “It hasn’t a name. I’ve given it yours.”

  Charon gazed at the moon with such a sense of awe that I blushed at the good feelings bubbling up inside.

  “Do you mean it?” he asked so very quietly.

  “Yes.”

  He was so filled with excitement, his laughter surprised me. I laughed with him.

  “Have you…” he was breathless when he turned toward me, “Have you been there?”

  My voice was high with the excitement of sharing my travels. “Would you like to know what it’s like?”

  His expression was sweet. “I would, indeed.”

  “Well,” I said, leading him to a bench. “Charon, is a lovely small moon, but the one side is nearly red while the other is blue.”

  “They have different colors?”

  “Oh, yes. The sand and stones have their own colors with each one. This one has a canyon too that is a huge divot on the red side.”

  “Amazing,” he said. He was obviously overcome with some great emotion, and I stopped laughing and smiling at the sight of it.

  He swallowed. “Thank you, Freya.”

  “Oh, Charon,” I whispered. “Thank you for being my friend.”

  He nodded, clearly too choked up to go on. “Excuse me,” he said. “I have business that needs me, but I will return before the end of the gathering.” He squeezed my hand so that I should know he did not wish to leave. Then he glanced up and counted the lights. “Aha! I have found it again.”

  I grinned as he wandered off into the night and faded away, perhaps to the underworld.

  I sat in the dark, not wanting to return to the rejection of Olympus. A warm body slipped through the shadows and sat next to me. I knew it was Alec before I looked. His breathing and his ways had sort of become known to me. He would of course ignore his own gathering.

  “You gave him a moon,” he said with a quiet chuckle.

  His hot breath tickled my ear. “It was mine to give.”

  “Really?” I could tell he was genuinely curious.

  I turned to gaze up into the green eyes of my king and regretted it instantly. The tug and pull was never ignored. “Really,” I said, searching his gaze. “My father may have banished me and perhaps I’ve lost
all of my dowry, but my grandmother never said her gifts were forfeit. That moon was mine and it has no name. Charon is as pale as the face of that place and when I think of him, it gives me the same peace of when I was there.”

  Alec’s mouth turned up on one side. “I can see you there, you know, walking alone …always alone, right, Freya?”

  “Perhaps that is you too, Alec,” I said so quietly that only an immortal could hear it.

  My sister burst out from the palace and into the quiet night, her laughter a peal of sound from, no doubt, too much wine. I frowned at her and Apollo, mere figures in the distance, shaped by the light behind them. She wasn’t letting the sun god get too close, at least.

  She cackled at something he said and then they began to dance to the music that was so faint this far into the garden. I frowned harder.

  But my mood swiftly changed as their beauty undid me. Cenia would enchantme until my dying day, the same as all others. “She is something to behold, isn’t she?”

  “Yes,” Alec said flatly.

  “Together they are almost too much to look at.”

  But Alec’s face, I could feel, was turned towards me. “Perhaps.”

  The king was so close. Too close. I knew how to move him away. I turned to stare directly and said, “Your brother kissed me.”

  Hesitation. “I know.”

  Was that bitterness I heard?

  I scoffed. “It was your idea.”

  “Not exactly.”

  “What does that mean?”

  I was flustered so I turned back to watch Cenia. I could watch them dance all night. Apollo was leaning daringly close to my sister, and she was melting into him. I wanted to be angry, to stop the tangling of their limbs, but my presence was enough for now…if needed.

  Alec's breath was warm at my ear again and it smelled of wine. He had been grieving with a bottle.

  "This once," he began, "I knew a man who told a story of a raven and a swan. The raven saw the white feathers of the beautiful swan and thought if she washed herself in the same pond that the swan swam in that she'd turn white too. Again and again, she tried to clean her feathers but to no avail. She did it until she nearly drowned, pining after something beyond being black as coal."