Page 42 of The Night Belongs To Lovers

Before being snatched back to the immaterial abyss that unfailingly called for it, the apparition, in ghostly form, watched with glee as Coriolanus, through blood tears and a rage that could reawaken Mount Vesuvius, rebuked Olympius, believing he committed the atrocity before him and cast him out of his life forever.

However,foreverwas too long for either lover to stay committed to.

Over the centuries, both gods, though Olympius far more often than Coriolanus, attempted to reunite, explain their side, apologize, and implore forgiveness. Every time, though, no matter how hard Fortuna tried to intervene for good, shackled by the limitations of her directives, the apparition managed to thwart every attempt—sometimes in little mischievous ways, but more often substantial, reprehensible ways.

During the Napoleonic Wars, Coriolanus finally snapped after one too many heartbreaks.

Having encountered Olympius unexpectedly upon the battlefield at the fall of Madrid while he was feeding upon dying soldiers, Coriolanus repudiated his Maker for once again entering his life uninvited to attempt another pointless reconciliation under his terms and when it was convenient for him. No longer capable ofenduring their acrimonious love story, flitting century after century between anger and numbness, Coriolanus refused to hear Olympius out and banished him from his life.

Fortuna could sense the warrior-god’s shattered heart and knew he meant what he said this time. Had she failed in her ancient promise to see true love prevail? Had the vile apparition ultimately won? Even though she did not see the imp with its vitriolic spite during this dreadful occasion, she heard its mocking laughter ringing in her head.

Sadly, Fortuna remained unsuccessful at motivating the ancient night god to make more reconciliation attempts with Coriolanus. For over two hundred years, she observed Olympius’ gradual descent into despair as he withdrew from the world, wallowed in self-pity, and secluded himself in a grand villa, which stood upon the ancient spot where he had elevated his beloved to godhood.

And Olympius steadfastly honoured Coriolanus’ desire for separation and stayed away—until this eve.

In her potent vision concerning this night, Fortuna saw why the ancient god chose to break his pledge and leave his misery, solitude, and self-confinement to see Coriolanus—but not face him. It was a lamentable, horrifying reason and one she needed to prevent from coming to pass.

Utilizing the crucial insights from her prophetic vision, the goddess skillfully orchestrated events to fulfill her objectives, deftly maneuvering all the key players to their intended positions, ensuring every step aligned with her grand design.

Fortuna foresaw Toronto, where Coriolanus currently lived, as the place where the poignant event was to occur. Upon her arrival in the city on the very night when it would all go down, she quickly discovered Olympius haunting the area, watching his beloved warrior-god, but always from a distance.

To Fortuna, both gods being in the same place for the first time in hundreds of years and existing in an era with such technological advantages was the epitome ofgood luckand a fortuitous instance of chance. Providentia had called her fertile mind to action, to concoct a plan to reunite the two lovers at last and for eternity. Fortuna believed this with all her heart and soul.

The face of a young mortal man who looked strikingly similar to Olympius was also revealed in the vision. Fortuna only knew his role in this affair once she arrived in the bustling metropolis and discovered Coriolanus’ intention to perform at a strip club. Then, she understood the mortal’s purpose. To suit her objective, she placed the idea of going to the strip club in the heads of the mortal’s highly suggestable, pushy friends.

Fortuna wished for the ancient god to be repeatedly reminded of his true love that night, the one she needed him to be with, the one he deserved to be with.

Intentionally causing Olympius to have a stroke of bad luck, Fortuna was responsible for the lapse in his concentration, which allowed Coriolanus to sense him, albeit briefly. Whether the warrior-god believed he detected his Maker’s presence matteredlittle; she knew Olympius would remain in his thoughts all night. The momentum of her scheme was in full swing.

Seeing the waiter approaching her with the bill, for it was close to closing time, Fortuna snapped her fingers. The man stopped, turned around, and walked back to the POS station. After a minute, he returned to her table and told her that another diner had paid her bill. Though it was only a glass of wine—that never once touched her lips, not that anyone noticed—she smiled and told the waiter to thank the person for her.

“This must be my lucky night,” she smirked.

“Have any plans for the rest of the evening?” the waiter inquired. He figured it was a stupid question due to the late hour, but one said from habit.

“As a matter of fact, I do. I’m on a quest to mend broken hearts, save true love, reap some revenge, and restore balance.”

Fortuna’s response, delivered with a flair of theatricality, left the waiter wide-eyed and speechless. With urgency, she walked past the shocked man, left the restaurant, and headed towards the alley where she believed the night’s drama would reach its conclusion.

However, she had sadly foreseen possible tragic outcomes for several participants and prayed that she could prevent at least one from becoming a reality.

OLYMPIUS

The Present

THROUGHsorrowful eyes, Olympius gazed downward from the cold night sky toward the unfamiliar cityscape. He floated effortlessly in the air, carried by his godly power, beneath dark clouds that loomed overhead, threatening to soon unleash their payload of moisture upon the illuminated Toronto Skyline. Though unbothered by chill temperatures, Olympius was not immune to getting wet, a state he did not care to be in while fully clothed.

The god wore basic straight-leg dark jeans, a simple white T-shirt, and a slate-grey bomber jacket, none of which were particularlywaterproof. However, he stubbornly refused to move and find shelter should the rain come. He was exactly where he needed to be, positioned perfectly at a safe distance to watch his warrior-god.

Since Coriolanus’ departure from the club, the ancient Lord of the Night closely watched his movements from afar, having followed him to and from the bistro, around the waterfront, and then to the alley adorned with vibrant murals.

And now, Olympius hovered several kilometres above his beloved—and the mortal prey he kept at his side.

He could not help but silently scold himself for his one mistake that evening: having gotten too close along the Harbourfront earlier and foolishly allowing Coriolanus to detect him. Olympius had sensed his lover’s use of mental energy to uncover his presence but effortlessly blocked the psychic probe.

Still, he was not sure if he had acted fast enough to lay doubt in Coriolanus’ mind, that perhaps his senses were playing tricks on him, but once his beloved stopped searching after a minute, Olympius’ mind was set at ease. He had no plans to confront him tonight—or ever again.

Olympius watched in silence and with intense jealousy as his warrior-god made love to the mortal.

---