I asked a question, instead. “What happened to the child?”
“She lived, for a little bit.” Seraphim met my eye. “The good lord, in his benevolence, allowed me to hold her. Just once.”
“You thought of her as yours.”
“How could I not? Aristaeus had his fun with Rhea and tossed her away. I was the one who held her, each night.”
Nothing, I looked down. “What was her name?”
“Ilena. Our little light in the dark.” Seraphim grabbed her wrist and watched the stars. “My deepest regret in this life is that I didn’t get to bury them.”
“Neither did I,” I said softly. Whisper jumped up on me, and I smoothed out his ears. “You wanted to travel through the cities because you hoped to continue what she started. Didn’t you?”
A smile crept across Seraphim’s face. “Cerys and I discussed as much when we spoke privately at the Duat. I hoped to spark a new uprising, and she hoped you’d lead it.”
“I should’ve known,” I sighed. “Part of me thinks you joined the insurgency for fun.”
“I can’t deny that.” She smiled. “Fighting impossible battles is my life’s calling. But Phaedrus is to blame, as well. His passion was infectious. So, I thought, while he’s fixing our world, I can fix this one.”
Neither succeeded in the end. The brief levity between us evaporated. “Even if we win, it won’t bring her back.”
“No,” Seraphim agreed, eyes flicking across the void.
Setting Whisper down, I turned to face her. “How do you do it?”
“Do what?”
“You told Aethra you don’t believe in the gods. That you think we live in a cold, meaningless world. How do you deal with your grief if you think you’ll never see her again?”
Seraphim extended a hand toward the Empty and retracted it. “I don’t claim to know everything. Maybe there is life after death, and we’ll be reunited. Or maybe I’ll simply die and join her in the silence.”
Maybe she found comfort in the thought, but I didn’t. An eternity of silence, a promise to never hear their voice, to see them smile.
“But. . .” Seraphim bit her lip. She tried to hold back tears, but her next words emerged with a sob. “I’m so happy Phaedrus got to see Eleos again. I would have given anything to meet my daughter. To see the woman she’d become.”
Grabbing Whisper’s scruff, I steered him toward her. Seraphim kneeled beside him, gratefully pulling the furry mound to her chest.
I admired her. The strength she displayed despite the pain she carried within.
This was the first time I’d ever seen her cry.
“You’re stronger than I am,” I said quietly.
Seraphim shook her head. “We’ve all stood here, at the brink. Me, Percy, Aethra . . .” She wiped her eyes. “And we all faced a decision: to step into the Empty’s embrace and let the silence take away the pain, or turn our backs, and keep going.”
I wandered closer to the Empty, trying to imagine Percy in thesame position, working up the courage to step into oblivion. His voice had shaken with pain when he’d shared his most vulnerable tale, one night after sparring. I hadn’t quite understood, then.
When Aethra had cleaved a path through the Empty, she’d described the emotions it brought her: Emptiness, silence. Comfort in the stillness. Everything washed away.
But you were free. Free from pain and grief. From the throbbing agony that never ceased from the piece of you they’d taken with their passing.
My fingers reached toward the Empty, tempted.
Was I not to blame for Aethra’s condition? Every woman I’d loved had developed Elpis magic. They’d faced death and suffering, and I’d failed to save any of them.
Perhaps her chances for survival would be better without me. Without my curse looming over her.
A figure stepped from the Empty, like a swimmer breaching the surface of the ocean. Clammy skin clung to its bones, and its sallow eyes were hollow and dull. A keres.
