Page 129 of Aïdes the Unseen
My heart ached for the woman who had once woven garlands for my crib and torn empires apart when I left her.
But thegoddessin me understood. This cycle of birth and return and captivity cloaked in love, it had never been about protection.
It had been about possession.
I wouldnotgo back.
“I will be free,” I said, locking eyes with Demeter. “Whether we scorch the earth or not is up to you.”
The room darkened.
Golden light, thick and alive, gathered around Demeter, wild and vengeful. She looked ready to strike. Desperation pressed her. If she thought punishing me might keep everything from unraveling, she was so violently about to be proven wrong.
A shimmer tore through the chamber like a blade of ice. Wind that wasn’t wind. Light that came from no source. A ripple ofOlympian powerdescending. Graven’s hand flexed on mine and the dog braced.
Voices rose in argument. Shadows and silhouettes in marble and flame. Then they were there.
Athena—cool-eyed and grim.
Hermes—smiling, but not kindly.
Artemis—bow in hand, unreadable.
Apollo—radiant, but tense.
Even Hera, whose silence weighed more than judgment.
Behind them, far quieter stood Mnemosyne, who said nothing but met my eyes, steady and calm.
“No more,” Athena said to Demeter, voice as sharp as her spear. “You’ve done enough.”
Demeter reeled. For a moment, I thought she’d strike them all down. Then her shoulders slumped.
Something in her broke. The light around her dimmed.
Hermes stepped forward and, with a gentleness I hadn’t expected, touched her shoulder.
She didn’t look back at me as theydraggedher away. She didn’t go as a prisoner, but as a goddess who refused to surrender, her power leashed by theirs.
The chamber held its breath after they vanished.
No thunderclap. No earthquake. Just stillness and the slow, deliberate press of the dog’s weight against my leg. Grounding me. Holding me.
Graven hadn’t moved. Not really. Not since he’d laid down that impossible line in the sand.
His hand hovered near mine. Not reaching—just waiting.
I let myself breathe. Shaky, shallow, real.
Then I turned to him, a wry twist at the edge of my mouth. “Do we dare believe that actually worked?”
He glanced at the space where gods had stood moments ago, and his shoulders lifted in that graceful, inevitable shrug of his. “Whether she pushes the confrontation to another day… another year… another age—I will do exactly as I said.”
He looked at me fully then, eyes steady and unflinching, the storm inside him tempered but no less fierce.
The dog leaned harder into me, as if confirming it all without words.
Graven’s voice softened. “We are with you.”
