Again, that lavender hue glittered around the object. “This…this is for me?” she whispered, eyes widening.
“Does it not call to you?” Cal asked, a smile brightening his features.
“Yes, but I have never seen such a weapon before. I don’t…I don’t deserve it,” Thalia admitted. Nikolaos’s trident, Hades’ bident, the other mysteries of the gods—they were all imbued with power. Power that was supposed to be reserved for the gods, not a mere seer, and she knew this weapon held that sort of power. It was marked by the blood of a Grechi. It was marked by the man she wished desperately was her father.
“I cannot think of someone more deserving, Thalia. I made it specifically for you—to protect you and your sister when I am not able.” Cal’s smile faded just slightly and Thalia noticed the worn lines around his eyes had grown deeper.
Forcing the water that welled in her eyes dry, Thalia took the formidable weapon. When she picked thexiphosup, the hilt began to heat beneath her palms and an imaginary tether of sorts seemed to bind itself from her to the sword. “I cannot begin to thank you for this, Cal.”
“There is no thank you necessary,kóri.” Cal placed his hand on Thalia’s shoulder and gave it a soft squeeze. “What shall you name her?”
Without thought, Thalia said, “Alítheia.” Truth.
“Alítheia,” he echoed. “A fine name.” A fond smile extended across his face, but was quickly replaced by a stern look. “I must be going, otherwise my nephew will complain I left him alone at the docks.” So that’s where Dimitris was all this time. It shouldn’t have surprised her that a son of the sea god would prefer tasks closer tothe water’s edge. “Promise me that you will keep her close,kóri. These are dangerous times.”
Thalia tucked the blade into her belt before wrapping her arms around the old man’s neck in an embrace. “I promise, Cal. I will not part from the blade.”
When she released him, Cal nodded his head and his gray eyes softened once more before he let out a light sigh and made his way to the supply room’s door.
As soon as Cal left, the supply room blurred and stars speckled Thalia’s vision. Calls from other soldiers echoed in her ears, screaming at her falling body then fading quickly as if she was submerged under water. The world around her went black.
Smoke and ash burned her lungs with every inhale. The very ground breath Thalia’s feet was scorched to nothing more than blackness. Screaming came from every corner of the field she was in. Beasts with black wings and serpents’ tails flocked in the sky, much like the daimon from Aidesian that still haunted her.
Flame spread throughout the field like it was sentient, burning every inch of land and each body that lay atop the grass. Where was she? No distinguishable features of the land appeared, all devastated by the raging fires.
A leather-clad soldier stood in the center of the field, her shoulders trembling, an object gripped tightly in her hand. Thalia ran toward the woman, reaching out and spinning her around. Ember stared back at Thalia, eyes glassy and hued the color of milk—far from their usual bright amber tone. The princess held a broken arrow, its tip stained crimson from the body she pulled it from—a familiar body.
On this day, many would fall. And one would fall they could never replace.
“Do you wish to speak about what you saw?”Mykonos questioned, hopping up onto the chaise where Thalia lay, a towel doused in cold water covering her eyes.
Why did herphsychíalways wish to discuss her visions? She had seen it too, seen what was to come.Whoit would be.
“There is no sense in discussing what we cannot change,” Thalia replied outloud, swatting the creature away.
Immediately after she had woken up from the vision, Thalia had sprinted to her chambers, sweat clinging to all kinds of places on her body. A cold bath had done nothing for the pain, nor had Cal’s tonic. This vision was not caused by the curse she gained in Aidesian. No—this was true sight, the power she was given at birth. Tonics could never heal nor dull what was given directly from the gods. Sight was supposed to be a blessing, though Thalia had never understood why. Except for the prophecies seers would have when a royal was born, most visions were laced with horrors no one would wish to experience or ever should. Unless she was the only one fated with that trauma.
“You may not be able to change the course the Fates have set, but it does not mean you cannot learn from it. Help others so that they don’t fall to the same demise.”Bumping her head against Thalia’s chest, Mykonos hissed before she pawed the cold cloth right from the seer’s eyes.
“I am tired, Mykonos. As I said, I do not wish to speak about it. Why don’t you go chase mice in the garden or go visit with Nyx,” she said outloud, her voice groaning. Thalia reached for the cloth that had fallen to the floor, placing it on her face once more. She needed to turn it off—her mind, her sight, the sinking feeling that everything that vision showed was her fault. She needed to rest.
“You are being insufferable,”Mykonos said.
“Well, now you know how I feel every time you speak,”Thalia lashed back, this time inside her head.
“Avoidance will do nothing for your soul, human, but if you wish to wallow in your own misery then I will seek out Nyx. Perhaps her human has seen the other side of the vision and will be more inclined to discuss.”Hopping off the chaise, Mykonos padded over to the door, slipping through the small flap that Leighton had installed so thepsychícould come and go as she pleased.
As the pitter-patter of Mykonos’s paws faded from Thalia’s chambers, she could only hope that Dafne had not seen a single thing. This was her burden to bear, not her sister’s.
Chapter Seventeen
Dimitris
Crystals peppered the portholes of the ship Dimitris repaired from the drop in temperature over the past night, winter making its official mark over the lands. Splintered wood and rusted nails lined theDespoina’s hull from its many months spent on the sea. She was the largest ship in the Skiathan fleet and the one that took the longest journeys down the coastal trade routes of Anatole. Many that resided in the Mykandrian Sea thought the men and women of Skiatha—the crew ofThe Nostosincluded—to be fearsome pirates, but they were nothing compared to the crews that ruled the Saron Sea and its isles.
Relief had washed over Dimitris when his father aervaded the lot of them to the beaches of Avernia to travel beneath through thecaves to Aidesian. Not only would sailing to the isle that guarded the underworld take time, but it was one that risked both body and soul. Stories were passed down over the years of the violence that plagued the waters in that quadrant of Odessia—ships that flew over the seas with sails made of skin and lines made from the hairs of the people who dared travel to the dead sea. The crews of Skiatha indulged in debauchery and occasional pillaging of villages in the isles ruled by tyrants and that deserved every ounce of blood split on their beaches, but the crews of the Saron Isles would rather see a ship burn and its people sunk to the depths of the seas than ask questions.
TheDespoinahad somehow made it back nearing twenty times over the years—an impossible feat that was well recorded in its logs. She deserved the care and attention that Dimitris gave her now as he replaced every broken cedar plank and pulled every crooked nail. Her service was invaluable to keep this isle running. Nexos knew of this isle andThe Nostoshad long supplied what goods it was able to barter, but it was never enough. Skiatha flourished with grain, cattle, sheep, and timber, but other necessities—linens, metals, spices—needed to be brought in from elsewhere, and the most luxurious of those goods came from the southern sector of Anatole.
