Page 135 of Aïdes the Unseen
“You waited so long,” I whispered.
He nodded. “I would’ve waited eternally.”
Kerberos leaned in, pressing all three heads close—earth and ash and stars rising in his breath. He was larger than I remembered. All things in this place were.
“I didn’t think I’d make it,” I admitted.
“You did,” Aïdes said. “Even when it broke you. Even when we all thought it might unmake you.”
“Did it?” I asked, uncertain.
He tilted his head. “No,” he said softly. “Youremadeyou.”
The Gates pulsed once. Welcoming. They opened. Not to let mein.To let methrough.Because this was never the final stop. This was only the place I’d always had to pass through to become what I was meant to be.
Longing filled me as I stared into his eyes. “Remind me later that I have a gift for you.”
Kerberos barked once, low, resonant, like a bell in the bones.
“You have my word.” Aïdes rose and offered me his hand. “Come with me,” he said. “There’s more to remember. And still more to build.”
I took it, coming homefinallyand from here, we could walk forward, together.
There wasa silence that was not empty. It was ancient. Sacred. Alive.
The Underworld was never a prison, never meant to be a prison. It was a boundary for mortal and immortal alike. A place in between, and the root from which everything could grow. Now, it breathed again.
My hand still curled in Aïdes’, the stone beneath our feet no longer cold but warm with the echo of memory. Lights shimmered along the ceiling, not torches, not stars—but souls. Tiny glimmers of past lives, each one luminous with the weight of their own truths.
Kerberos stalked ahead of us, his three heads alert, calm. Triumphant. The halls opened as we walked, welcoming me with reverence, not fear.
Queen. The title wasn’t one I sought, but I accepted because I was needed. Just as Aïdes had chosen the Underworld and loved me, he found me again and I loved him. We chose each other.
Then—they came. Not mortals. Not ghosts. The gods. One by one. Not with thunder or titles. So many came, some I had always known while others were just acquaintances. Still more had been born during my absence. They came with offerings.
Hermes was the first. Always first. A friend for so many lifetimes, always offering assistance when he could, and it often came with a twinkle in his eyes and mischief on his mind.
He stepped through the Veil with his usual grin, but it faltered the moment our eyes met. He wore no winged helmet today, only his traveling cloak, soft and weather-worn. From his bag, he pulled a bundle wrapped in silk and tied with a simple knot.
“For the roads you walked,” he said, voice gentler than I remembered. “And those you still must.” Inside were my sandals from an ancient life, woven with moon thread and ash bark.
I smiled and kissed his cheek. “You remembered.” He bowed low, andleft the same way he always had—between one breath and the next.
Hephaestus came next, massive and quiet, his hammer slung at his back. No words passed between us for a long moment. Then he offered a simple, strange object: a key, forged from obsidian and wrapped in molten gold filigree. On the head of it, my sigil burned softly.
“It’s for you,” he said. “Only you.”
I touched the key. “What does it unlock?”
He glanced around. “Whatever was once denied.”Whatever you need.
Aphrodite arrived in a gust of rose-scented light. Not adorned as the world paints her, but wild-haired, barefoot, andradiant with joy. “My love,” she said, folding me into her arms. “We missed you.”
I held her in return, stunned by how deeply I’d longed for this. When she stepped back, she brushed a hand against my brow. “We tried to love you in the way we understood love. You left, and we did not know how to grieve. We only knew how toclaim.I’m sorry.”
I nodded. “You’ve learned.”
She laughed. “From you.”
