We walked outside, straight onto the Stygian Docks. The air changed instantly, growing thick with the ancient scent of deepwater. Lake Acheron stretched out before us like a sheet of black glass, absorbing the twilight rather than reflecting it.
When I’d jumped in on the other side of the lake, I’d thought the water would kill me. Instead, it had brought me to Aion. I desperately wanted it to be enough. But how could I be sure?
“Here in Asphodelia, there will always be an answer if you’re looking for one,” Aion said. “Most often, I seek mine in the lake. And whenever I am afraid, it’s the water that gives me reassurance.”
I wouldn’t have thought anyone like Aion would feel afraid, but then again, why wouldn’t he? His skin might be metal, but he was obviously just as human as I was. More so, perhaps.
It was that simple humanity that gave me the courage to speak the words caught in my throat. “His name is Jason. The man chasing me.”
Aion turned his head. The glowing blue light of his eyes fixed on me, patient and absolute. He did not push. He simply provided the silence.
I hadn’t spoken of Jason since I’d woken up in Asphodelia. I hadn’t dared to give the nightmare shape. But as I stood here, gripping a hand I couldn’t destroy, the secrets felt like poison I desperately needed to expel.
“He is my creator,” I confessed, the words tasting like bile on my tongue. “He told me my mother died while I was still inside her.He used his necromancy to rip me out of her womb, to weave this… this rot into my very first breath.”
I looked down at the still water of the Acheron, watching the mist curl around our feet. “I was his weapon. His key. Whenever there was a door that wouldn’t open, a guardian that wouldn’t submit, or a rival that needed to disappear without a trace… he would send me.” I squeezed Aion’s hand, my fingernails scraping harmlessly against his skin. “He would strip off my gloves. He’d make me touch those people, Aion. He’d watch them die, and he’d smile like he’d just performed a miracle.”
Aion shifted, turning his massive body to block the cold wind sweeping off the lake. He was sheltering me entirely in his shadow, but not from the Acheron. From Jason.
“He’s obsessed with power,” I managed to finish. “He’s looking for something called the Golden Fleece. He thinks the world is his to conquer. I spent my whole life believing I was a plague that the earth itself wanted to reject. I jumped into this lake because I wanted the rot to end. I wanted to be unmade.”
Aion released my hand, only to bring both of his massive palms up to cup my face. “Look at me, Medea.”
I forced my eyes up to his.
“He gave you a purpose that was not yours,” Aion said, the deep vibration of his chest carrying the absolute, crushing weight of truth. “But he could not change your nature. In this city, your touch is not a crime.”
He brushed his heavy bronze thumbs across my cheekbones, wiping away tears I hadn’t realized were falling.
“Jason cannot reach you here,” Aion continued. “The Acheron is a sentient boundary. It does not permit anyone to cross without its leave. Without my father’s barge. Jason cannot touch you.”
I leaned forward, resting my forehead against his chest. The metal was cool on the surface, but the pulsing core beneath it was a roaring furnace of protection. Aion’s heavy arms wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me into his embrace.
We stood at the edge of the pier, the silence broken only by the heavy, rhythmic lapping of the lake against the stone. The terror that had chased me across the Blighted Lands began to recede, replaced by a fragile sense of belonging.
I pulled back just enough to look up at him. His face was inches from mine. The blue light of his eyes illuminated the space between us. I didn’t see a monster of metal. I saw a gentle, quiet soul that was reaching for me.
My gaze dropped to his lips. A sharp spark of pure, starved want ignited in my chest. All my life, I’d wanted to know what it felt like to touch without destroying. I’d needed to know what it felt like to be held without fear. Because of him, those wishes had been fulfilled. But I needed more.
Aion tilted his head down, his movements agonizingly slow, deliberate. He felt it too, this want, but he was giving me every opportunity to pull away.
I didn’t. I rose on my toes and pressed my lips to his.
The contact felt magical. His mouth was firm, the metal smooth and unyielding. But the energy humming just beneath the surface surged against my mouth like a living breath. I kissed him harder, my hands tangling in his flowing silver hair, pulling him down to me.
It wasn’t even just about the fact that I was touching someone. It was about touchinghim. About Aion.
He was holding me tighter, his large hands gripping my waist, pulling me flush against him. Everything inside me screamed to fall into him, into the rightness of our kiss.
“Aion. I see you are still keeping our guest company.”
The dry, rasping interruption cut through the moment like a blade. I jumped back, my heart hammering violently against my ribs. Aion straightened and turned toward the source of the voice. “Father. I trust everything is well with the lake?”
Charon stood a few yards away, down the pier. The ferryman was a towering figure draped in heavy charcoal robes, leaning casually on his pole. Ancient coins orbited his form in a slow, silent dance.
He had been more than welcoming to me. But now, he eyed me with something akin to strain. “The lake is never unwell,” he said. “But it is not the lake you answer to. At least, not today.”
I didn’t like the sound of that, and neither did Aion. I shouldn’t have sensed his bronze going rigid, but impossibly, I did.
