They both look shocked. Artemis hides it better. Athena gapes at me. I suppose I don’t say things like that enough. Again, humans are teaching me to stop holding back my affection and my words. One day, it might simply be too late, and I don’t want to miss my chance.
I look toward Aeaea again, my heart heavy with regrets.
“Father?” Athena draws my attention back to them.
“Go to your temples. Welcome your people and listen to their prayers and thanks. You’ll also find a great and long-lasting asset in the love you’ve gained here today.”
They dip their heads in respect and leave. And now, there’s only Hades and his impertinent wife—another daughter of mine. Unable to tame a proud smile—and understanding it’s best not to anyway—I shake my head at Persephone.
Her brows lift back at me. “Am I not your heart and joy?”
I laugh—hoarse and cracked. The surprise of it makes me even more grateful for this bold daughter of mine. “You’re my brother’s heart and joy.” I glance at her new dog, the hound’s white coat painted bloodred all down her throats. She still licks her chops, three huge tongues dripping acid slobber. “You keep me on my toes, and that is gift enough.”
Her mouth thins, hiding a smile, but her blue eyes warm. “How long until you visit Hera on Aeaea?”
“You go too far,” I scold, that empty cavern in my chest filling with a burst of heat unlike anything I’ve felt in centuries.
Persephone doesn’t back down. She never does. “I saw thelook on her face when you ended your marriage. And I saw the look on yours.”
And what look was that? I wonder what Persephone saw, even though the tight, twisting weight in my abdomen tells me all.
Hades steps forward. “We’ll be going now. We have our own troubles to deal with in the Underworld, but just call out from your side of the Styx if you need us.” Darkly, he adds, “Or we’ll call you.”
I nod. “Take care, Brother. There’s still treachery afoot.”
“Yes, well, maybe you shouldn’t have dumped Perses in our laps,” Persephone mutters.
“Do you want me to hit you with a god bolt, too?” I snap.
She scoffs. “After everything I’ve done for you? Don’t make empty threats, Father. It’ll make people—and gods—less inclined to listen to you.”
My eyes narrow, but I feel no anger at her words and recognize their truth. Persephone—my force of nature. No one except Hera has ever challenged and changed me the way she has. “I sometimes think it’s a good thing we don’t share a kingdom. I’m not sure we’d live in peace.”
A smile cracks through her cool veneer. “See? Some things work out for the best.” She pauses, her expression softening. “Maybe others will, too.”
Will they? All I can do is breathe deeply and concentrate on the present, because I might already regret Hera’s punishment otherwise.
Hades claps me on the shoulder. “And let’s hope we still have a kingdom in the days to come.”
I certainly hope that, too. I’ve done what I can, having unlocked another key soulmate bond in a dying man months ago when I felt vague unrest and the shadows of deceptionstirring everywhere. A fated pair can help save both men and gods. We’ve seen it. In Thalyria. In Atlantis. Maybe next, in the Underworld.
Soulmates can destroy us, too, if one is a powerful enough Magoi. Hera almost paid that price.
Hades and Persephone say goodbye. They leave after a nod toward the humans, who watch our every move and don’t dare move themselves. Keres follows them back beneath the mortal plane, leaving behind the pungent scents of fresh kills and blood-wet fur.
With no one left between us, my gaze fixes on the humans. Two younger couples and an older one. They fought for each other today as well as for Atlantis. More emotion stirs in my chest, proving just how invested I’ve become in certain mortal lives and in the welfare of my worlds. For better, hopefully. I’d loathe for it to be for worse.
Bellanca, my fire warrior, draws the eye like none other. Even when magic doesn’t fly from her, she burns. I don’t have another smile in me right now, but I soften. A queen earns her kingdom, and I find that the Firebringer has more than earned hers. It pains me to leave it in ruins, so with a wave of my hand, I gather the loose rock and dirt and dust and branches in this temple square and send it all out to sea, far beyond where the great barrier used to be. Next, I repair the harbor wall, leaving the burn mark that was Eryx. After, I restore the temples, buildings, and statues around the square, reversing the damage the battle wrought. The humans watch me, fascinated, grateful, and amazed. Yet I do nothing special.
Or perhaps I do when I obliterate the rest of Hera’s temple, send the rubble beneath the waves, and grow an instantly mature olive grove in its place.
Peace. Nourishment. Shade.
I gather the dead from Hera’s attack and line them up in rows beneath the olive trees, their bodies shrouded and ready for burial, an obol in each hand. The Firebringer saved many lives, but not all of them. Atlantis rose again, but mourning will weigh it down for years.
My humans walk toward the olive grove to look at it along with others from around the temple square, and with them safely away from the blood-stained altar, I reshape the slab and pillars into something new. The white marble, still stained red in places, becomes the tall statue of a woman standing before the high wall. Dressed like any Atlantian woman might be, she holds a fishing net in one hand and a bouquet of orange blossoms in the other. Sea stars crown her forehead. Nereid adorned waves wash her toes. She will be a memorial for Atlantians, who must remember their darkest generations just as I must remember what I let happen here for too long.
The one who was stabbed upon the altar sobs when she sees the statue, her blood that painted swirl. A man takes her in his arms. I will bless their union, too, because Hera’s sacred duties must be mine now. She’ll have no sight or reach beyond Aeaea. Her world is limited now to her island shores.
