Epilogue
Aion & Charon
The silver-blue mists of Asphodelia drifted across the path of the sphinx’s garden. I stood beside Medea, my fingers laced gently through hers. The quiet of the city had returned, wrapping around the towering spires and the dark waters below.
Inside my chest, the mortal heart kept a steady, quiet pace. It was a grounded reality, tying me to the woman standing at my side and to the earth beneath my feet.
This heart had belonged to a necromancer. Now, it had given me a thread, the right to a fate I’d share with my mate. But it had come at a price.
We stopped before a dense, shimmering circle of asphodels. The ghostly white petals in this specific patch burned with a fierce, blinding glow, outshining the rest of the sprawling terrace. Itwas the exact spot where Skaros had dissolved. My brother-in-arms had unwoven on these stones, his thread severed in the chaos.
Medea leaned her shoulder against my arm. “He stepped in as a proxy to help us,” she whispered. Her voice carried a heavy, lingering guilt. “And then the surge… the magic I couldn’t hold back unwove him. He died because of me.”
I squeezed her hand. For me, the world had always been a narrow place. I’d spent my years with very few ties. Skaros had been one of them. Though harsh and fiercely loyal, he had treated me as an equal when others saw only a vessel.
“I miss him,” I said. The admission felt tight in my chest. “But he understood the volatility of death energy better than anyone, and he made his choice to help us. This was an accident of the surge, not a conscious strike.”
“You mourn him with the narrow vision of the living lands.”
The calm voice rolled smoothly over the stones. We turned to find Phix sitting gracefully upon a low basalt wall. The sphinx looked pristine. Her sleek lioness body rested in quiet repose, and her wings were tucked neatly against her golden flanks. The ancient intelligence in her gaze seemed to catch the bright glow of the asphodel patch. She had healed since Jason’s attack and was once again the picture of perfect, unbothered serenity.
Medea straightened, though she kept her hand in mine. “Phix. I wanted to apologize. For what I did. For Skaros, and the harm I caused you.”
Phix tilted her regal head, a faint smile touching her lips. “Apologies are for mistakes, Medea. I told you already. There was no error here.”
Shaking, Medea bit her lower lip. “Yes, but… I still feel…”
The sphinx hopped down from the wall, her heavy paws making no sound. She walked toward us, stopping at the edge of the blinding white flowers. She looked down at the blooms with a hint of melancholy.
“Guilty?” she murmured. “I understand, child. But you will learn, in time, that you need not feel regret.
“Skaros agreed to the proxy to ensure you could remain in this city safely. That choice allowed you to save the guardian standing beside you. He’d never regret it, or his fate. It was a magnificent unweaving.”
“Do you miss him?” Medea asked.
“In Asphodelia, we simply transform,” the sphinx answered. “The energy that formed Skaros now feeds this earth. It lingers in the air. It lights the lamps of the Agora.” Phix shifted her gaze to me, her pupilless eyes catching the amber glow of the distant braziers. “You feel the weight of your new heart, Aion, but you also know the truth of the weave.”
I looked at the glowing flowers. I felt the sadness of losing my friend, but beneath the grief, the quiet, humming strength of the city remained. Phix was right. Skaros was not a void. He was the foundation beneath our feet.
“As for the rest,” Phix continued, “Medea, you are not to blame for your father’s choices. No, you should be proud. You destroyed a binding to forge a bond. Asphodelia did not anticipate you, but it accepts you.”
Without another word, the sphinx walked away, her golden tail swishing smoothly behind her as she disappeared into the deep shadows.
The sprawling garden settled into a comfortable silence. The damp wind blowing off Lake Acheron carried the scent of crushed petals and cold stone. I pulled Medea against my chest. My bronze arms wrapped around her, shielding her from the mist. She leaned into my heat, resting her palm flat against the metal plates hiding my heart.
“Jason is gone,” Medea whispered, a small tremor rushing over her body. “I don’t have to look over my shoulder anymore. We are actually safe.”
“We are,” I promised.
“I have a home here.”
I held her more tightly, thinking about the soft warmth of my quarters and the bed already waiting for us. “You do. With me.”
“And the bride market?” Medea grabbed my arm, death energy dancing along her fingertips. “Do you suppose… I’ll have to go through it again?”
I didn’t know. The Moirae had made no note of it, and everyone seemed happy to accept that I was now caring for my best friend’s former bride.
“Perhaps one day,” I admitted, “but make no mistake. No one can get in the way of our bond.”
