4
The Nest of Stone
Phonos
My mother had once told me that when Phix had first been woven, the sphinx had sworn an oath. “I will plant an asphodel with my own paws for every answer our people give me.” She’d kept her word, and her garden was now the most beautiful place in Asphodelia. If I leaned closer, I could have sworn I heard the ghostly whispers of ancient replies.
But today, I had no interest in old stories. Daphne sat by my side, and the quiet contentment on her face was a deeper truth than any riddle the sphinx had ever posed. The petals of her flower crown reflected the steady glow of the garden’s blossoms, as if they wanted to claim Daphne as another of Phix’s blooms.
Over the past few days, the guarded tension had finally uncoiled from Daphne’s shoulders. Our conversation in the Agora had helped her far more than I’d even hoped. She’d begun to map the strange new territory of her own freedom with a thoughtful curiosity that made her even more beautiful than before.
I’d brought her to the garden because I couldn’t help myself, and because the asphodels suited her beauty so well. But the other part of me, the beast I always tried so hard to hide, had simpler needs. I was just greedy for her presence.
Daphne couldn’t have missed that, but she never seemed to mind. She turned to me, and when she met my gaze, her eyes shone brighter than the asphodels. “You know, Phonos, every day I spend in Asphodelia surprises me. There’s such a kindness here, such warmth. A life. It’s strange. I never expected to find that in this city.”
It was as I’d thought, then. The sanctuary I’d hoped to offer her was real. She could feel it. “This city has not felt warmth in a long time. Perhaps it is not Asphodelia that has changed, but you who have brought that feeling with you.”
Her lips twisted in a hesitant smile, one that held no shadow of her past. It was a dawn breaking in a land that reveled in twilight, and a quiet sense of victory settled in my chest. She reached up, her fingers brushing against one of the glowing petals in her own crown. “You speak so fondly of your home. Is all of Asphodelia like this garden? So... peaceful?”
Her question was a delicate thing, a seed of trust taking root in the new soil of her freedom. I wanted to protect that budding comfort at all costs. But above all else, I knew I owed her honesty. “Not all. Every place in this city reflects its weaver. This garden is Phix’s mind, given form.”
A breath caught in my throat, but I didn’t hesitate before continuing. “My home… the Spire… It carries the heart of my family. Of my sisters.”
Daphne tilted her head and blinked in surprise. “You have sisters?”
“Alecto and Megaera,” I replied, unable to fully contain my pride for the women who shared my weave. “I would like for you to meet them. To see our home for yourself.”
If Daphne minded that I hadn’t mentioned my sisters before, she didn’t show it. “It would be my honor, Phonos,” she said, instead.
“Good,” I managed, though the single word could hardly carry the weight of my relief. “I’m glad.”
The future, which for so long had been a hazy shore, now shifted into sharp focus. The path forward was no longer a question, but a series of clear, concrete steps. I was so close now, so close to the happiness I’d thought lost forever.
But even in the sphinx’s garden, peace was often too much to ask for. A disgusting scent assaulted my nostrils, a physical waveof scorched stone and hellfire that triggered every predator’s instinct in my blood.
I shot to my feet and flared my wings, shielding Daphne behind the bulk of my larger form. And not a moment too soon. A low growl tore through the air, its unconcealed hostility seeming to make the asphodels flinch. “Keres. So this is where you were hiding.”
As Theron stepped into the garden, his massive frame dimmed the flowers’ light. I hadn’t seen him in months, and I hadn’t been keen on it either. As far as I was concerned, he could go on with his life, harvest death energy, and leave me to my own affairs.
But he’d never been able to leave things well enough alone, and every moment spent in his presence was a violation.
Behind him, an anchor in the storm of his shadow, stood Callista. Once, seeing them together would have made me bitter. Now, it just frustrated me that they’d interrupted the moments I shared with Daphne.
Despite knowing I should contain my anger, I couldn’t help but bare my teeth at the intruder. “Some creatures can’t help but mark their territory, can they? What brings you so far from your kennel, hound?”
Theron took a deliberate step forward, and a rumbling threat emanated from his chest. “We heard a new bride had arrived. I should have known I’d find you here, sniffing around her like a satyr in his cups.”
The insinuation was a crude attempt to defile the fragile, profound connection I felt for Daphne. I sneered at him. “Is that a fact? And what do you think you can do, Cerberus? This is not the Kratos Circle. Your fangs have no power here.”
The truth was that he could do a lot, and that was what worried me. When he’d transformed into his three-headed form, he’d been a walking cataclysm, and he’d almost erased me and my sisters. I didn’t fear for myself, but I refused to let him touch Daphne with his filthy breath.
The edges of Theron’s fur began to smoke, glowing with the embers of barely contained hellfire. I braced myself, every muscle coiled, ready to meet his charge.
Before the beast could move, Callista placed a firm hand on his arm. “Theron. Enough.”
The measured certainty of her command cut through the predatory tension. At her touch, the aggression in him submitted. “This isn’t what we came here for,” she reminded him.
The threatening vibration in his chest subsided, and the furious set of his shoulders eased. “Of course. I’m sorry.”
