Aion drew a breath. His heavy bronze fingers twitched, scratching loudly against the altar.Yes, please, yes. Come back to me.
Instantly, I pulled my hands out of the cavity. The thick metal plates slowly shifted and sealed themselves closed over the glowing blue-white pulse. Aion opened his eyes.
The familiar light burned there, but it carried a new, startling clarity. When he turned his head, his gaze found mine instantly. “Medea.”
The word rumbled from deep inside his chest, carrying the warm echoes of his new heart.
I reached out and grabbed his hand. There was so much I wanted to say and do, so many things I needed to tell him. In the end, only one thing could come out. “I’m sorry, Aion. I’m so sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he replied. “And you never need to apologize to me.”
The bone-rattling hum of the Loom finally ceased. The silence rushing into the hall was absolute. Clotho stepped out of the shadows, holding a single, shimmering silver thread. “Your mate has just placed a heart inside you, son of Charon,” she said. “And a heart carries a thread.”
Lachesis lowered her measuring rod, letting the heavy bronze tip rest against the floor. “You are woven into the fabric of Asphodelia now. No longer threadless. Bound to the Loom.”
Aion pushed himself up. The joints of his shoulders chimed with heavy grace. “Thank you, Revered Moirae.”
Atropos stepped forward, shaking her head. “Do not thank us. It is not we who brought your mate here, and not we who were truly capable of weaving you as a child of Thanatos.”
The three sisters looked at me one last time. Then, with a final flash of silver light, they faded back into the deep shadows. The silver thread dissolved into the ambient glow of the hall.
Charon stood motionless at the edge of the dais. He hadn’t looked away from Aion since the moment my mate first stirred. “You look well, Aion,” he finally said.
Aion pressed a hand over the center of his chest, right above the sealed plates. “I believe… I don’t look any different, Father.” He looked down at me, his fingers tightening securely around mine. “But what I am feeling… It is beyond compare.”
Charon shook his head. “It is not. You were just the same when you first gained your mind. I trust that you will be able to adjust to a thread just as easily. Especially now, with your mate by your side.”
He bowed his head slightly toward me, though I didn’t think I’d done anything to deserve it. “I will leave you to it. Take care of my son, Medea.”
With that, he turned his back, his dark robes sweeping over the marble.
“Father,” Aion called out.
Charon paused, his broad shoulders perfectly still.
“Thank you,” Aion said.
Charon did not speak. He simply nodded once and walked out, leaving us completely alone.
“You went back to him,” Aion whispered. He reached out, cupping my cheek with striking gentleness. “You faced the man who made you a weapon.”
“I only faced my own truth.” I stepped between his knees and reached up, tangling my fingers in his silver hair. “I made my choice, and that is you.”
He wrapped his massive arms around my waist and pulled me against him. I rested my head against his chest, listening to the steady, perfect rhythm beating inside the metal. I was perfectly safe in the arms of the only person in the world who could hold me.
He leaned down and kissed me.
There was no terror of decay. There was no fear of breaking. It was just a man and a woman, anchored to each other. The bargain was finished.
13
Forever
Aion & Medea
Medea’s lips tasted like tears. I’d never been able to experience taste like one of the woven, and even now, I still couldn’t. But Medea’s relief, the echoes of her grief… That was unmistakable.
As she pressed her mouth against mine, the shuddering exhales of her breath ghosted across my skin. For decades, I had registered the world purely through the hum of ambient death energy. Now, resting on the cold stone slab in the center of the Weavers’ Hall, I felt the sharp, jagged edges of Medea’s exhaustion.
