Page 15 of Where Darkness Bloomed
Then a rich chuckle came from behind her. “You’ll understand soon enough,” he promised.
Kore’s breath caught sharply. She spun, heart racing—but found only empty air. Far above, golden wings cut through the night, catching both starlight and firelight as he vanished into the dark.
“Hermes,” Thalia swore softly.
The celebration surged on—music wild, drums pounding like the satyrs’ hooves against the grass, dancers spinning and leaping against firelight.
A goblet was pressed into Kore’s hand, and she drank, the wine cool and sweet on her tongue as they slipped once more into the swell of the revel. Laughter rang out, rising over the crowd and twining with the lively strains of lyres and drums.
At last, Heracles stood, lifting Hebe into his arms as if she weighed nothing. Her laughter was clear and bright, and the crowd erupted in raucous cheers that sparked across the field like embers in dry grass.
As the couple vanished into the shadows, heat still lingered beneath Kore’s skin.
Eros’s words echoed.
It must be seen, and felt… tasted.
Her thoughts spun, slow and hazy. The wine—too much, too quickly—bloomed warm in her veins, softening the edges of the world. The warmth weighted her limbs, leaving her slightly unmoored.
She drew a long breath, pressing one hand to the gnarled trunk of an olive tree to steady herself.
Then, a thought surfaced, unbidden. Fragile. She hesitated a moment, but the wine dulled the sharp edge of caution.
The celebration fell behind her as Kore stepped away, music and laughter thinning the further she drifted from the firelight. She paused at the lawn’s edge, just beyond the golden glow, and glanced back.
Thalia and Euphrosyne twirled to the rhythm of lyres and flutes, laughter spilling from their lips. Firelight kissed their forms, gilding them in gold.
But it was Aglaia who held the night.
She danced not as a goddess but flame incarnate. Graceful. Unbound. Every motion was a slow exhale of heat, every turn a hymn to beauty and ruin. She moved as though the stars bent to her rhythm, calling to her by name, and every eye followed her. Gods. Nymphs. Satyrs. Even the wind seemed to stir for her, lifting her dark hair like a lover’s touch.
Kore’s eyes flitted to the head table. Demeter’s crown still gleamed there, but it wasn’t her mother who caught her attention.
It was Hephaestus.
He stood half-shadowed in the fire’s glow, arms crossed over his chest, still and silent. But his eyes, coal-dark and burning, were steadily fixed. Not on the crowd. Not on the revelry.
On Aglaia.
His gaze caught and held every graceful step, every flicker of firelight on her skin. His jaw shifted once, a ripple through his rough-hewn features. As though something stirred far beneath.
Then Aglaia turned. A fluid motion, woven into the dance. But her eyes lifted, searching—and found him. The moment hung suspended, humming with something primal, elemental. A force unnamed but felt all the same.
A faint smile ghosted across Aglaia’s lips, almost wistful. Not an invitation, just a flicker of recognition. He didn’t smile back. He didn’t move, still leaning against the high table, watching.
Then she vanished, swallowed by the whirl of flames and silk.
Hephaestus remained motionless another moment. Then his hand lowered, brushing the table’s edge. His fingers curled slowly around the polished wood—a small gesture, easily missed. Except for the way his knuckles whitened.
Kore looked away, her breath catching at the current that now bled through the feast. Tension like something awakening and inevitable.
She turned, slipping quietly into the dark. The wine coaxed her onward, warm in her blood. She stepped lightly across the grass, cool beneath her feet, until the hush of a laurel grove embraced her.
Through a veil of leaves, she glimpsed a nearby terrace. The wide balcony was bathed in lamplight, a bedchamber just beyond. There, Heracles stood, still holding Hebe in his arms. As he lowered her to the floor, her body slid down the length of his. His hands lingered at her waist, drawing her closer to him.
Then one hand rose to tilt her chin, and his mouth found hers in a claiming kiss. It bloomed between them, tender and hungry all at once. A union of devotion and desire.
Kore’s heart pounded harshly, drowning out the distant music. Heat rushed, a flush blooming fast with warmth she couldn’t name.
