The desolate environment of his living room with its emptiness served as a painful reflection of his sorrow; even the soft furnishings brought to mind her death. He could not perceive anything anymore. The sole thought lingering inside his head was ending his life. He could not go through this again.
Perhaps . . .
A loud sound echoed through the house as the door opened and in that instant, the thought had vanished from his mind. With a deliberate movement of his head, he raised his eyes to the main hallway only to meet eyes with Artemis and Hades. An undeniable look of worry was etched on the goddess’s face, but the god’s expression was composed and inscrutable.
Eros found himself clenching his jaw as he looked at them as they approached him.
Artemis sat down on the sofa and began, “You did the right thing, Eros.”
He nodded toward Artemis, not looking at her, as he instantly felt the anger stirring inside him. Although he recognized the decision was best for Charisma, it did not sit well with him personally. He was finally forced to accept that she was really gone, now that he couldn’t see her or feel her in any way.
An uncomfortable silence fell upon the three gods, and Hades felt compelled to clear his throat in an attempt to alleviate the tension in the air. Completely detached from the world around him, Eros seemed to stare blankly ahead while Artemis focused her attention on him, hoping to figure out what thoughts were running through his mind.
However, they were all aware that with just a simple snap of his fingers, he possessed the ability to completely obliterate their entire world. As a matter of fact, the process of destruction had at that point already begun.
“Hades,” Eros said, his voice a low rumble. “Did you see her in the Underworld on the day she passed away?”
“I only caught a glimpse of a light passing,” he answered, making a brief pause as he eyed him with his pitch-black irises. “It was most likely her as she was a mortal blessed with divine abilities.”
Eros swallowed with difficulty, a knot forming in his throat, and as he processed Hades’ words, his gaze shifted, becoming darker in response.
“How are you dealing with—” Artemis began, but Eros had immediately cut her question.
“As previously mentioned to you, I wish to abstain from any discussions pertaining to myself,” he stated, rising from the sofa and walking away from them. “I am in a state of exhaustion, so regrettably, I have to ask you to leave the house.”
“Leave.”
With no further words spoken, the two gods turned to leave him, worry written across their faces as they kept their gaze fixed upon him with each step they took.
The air grew thick with dread as he remained there. Every shadow seemed to crawl closer, and every creak of the floorboards sent a fresh wave of terror. He was finally alone, a state he believed was his fate.
Chapter 40
Eros
Three days had passed since he had said his last goodbye to Charisma Sinclair.
They had decided she deserved a mortal funeral, and Eros realized it was a far more agonizing ordeal than he could have imagined. Even though he tried to be strong and ensure she received a dignified burial, the memory of it still haunted him. And perhaps it would haunt him for eternity.
The first shovelful of earth. The sound of a harsh, grating thud, heavy and relentless, as it struck the wooden coffin. He felt the impact deeply, a hollow ache that brought both a sense of finality and crushing grief.
Three days had passed since he tossed the first shovelful of soil over her coffin, and the haunting memory did not let him leave the house.
Three days had passed, and he was still trying to find a way to protect Charisma’s mother from the pain of losing her only child, just as he’d vowed to Charisma. But the weight of concealing a child’s death from her mother felt wrong in every way.
Three days had passed, and the emotions he’d felt, even through their bond, had utterly vanished. And undeniably yielded to the eternal pain.
Chapter 41
Eros
Seven days had passed since he had said his last goodbye to Charisma Sinclair.
Seven days had passed since he tossed the first shovelful of soil over her coffin, and the haunting memory did not let him leave the house.
Seven days had passed since his body succumbed to the eternal pain.
However, a mere three days had passed from the moment when Elythra became nothing more than a hazy recollection of its former splendor as a magnificent city.
