Page 23 of Aïdes the Unseen
I saw how they spoke to her.
Apollo with his poetry and Helios with his glow. Hermes with his clever tongue, all charm and movement. Even Ares, brutal in his want, tried to cloak it in gallant silence.
They all saw a bloom.
They wanted the season.
But I knew thesoil.
I knew what she hid.
I knew what itcosther to bloom, again and again.
They didn’t know the girl who curled into moss when no one was looking. Who questioned her shape, her power, her path. Who knelt at broken altars and asked nothing of the gods. Of Gaia.
But I did.
Because of that, I couldn’t be what they were.
I couldn’t ask for her.
Only wait.
She toldme I was the pause between seasons. A shadow that made the light mean something.
No one has ever called me anything without fear in their voice. Not even the other immortals. They might speak of balance, of necessity—but in the end, I was the gate they refused to look behind.
Except her.
She sat in silence and offered no promises. Justpresence.
I would take that over worship. Over prayer. Over anything. Because it was real. It was hers.
When I stepped forward, she met me halfway.
Could she understand what that did to a being like me? We were not built for halves. We took. We dominated. We held dominion over law, death, sky. Even love. But not her. She gave me only what I dared hold.
Somehow, that was more than I’d ever had. I couldn’t stay away from her. Day after day, season after season, I returned to watch her, certain that it would be enough. It wasn’t.
How could it be? I hated how I remembered her now. The way her hand felt over mine, warm, living, trusting. The way the rain softened around her like the world was listening. The way she looked at me like I wasn’t a mistake.
I hated that I knew it wouldn’t—couldn’t—last.
Demeter had felt the thread. Her power was old, older than most remembered. It guarded her daughter like a wall woven from root and wrath.
She would come.
She would take her.
Not because she was cruel. No. She would take her because sheknew what I was. She was right to fear it, fear me. I vanished because I had to. Not for safety. Formercy. If I stayed, I would not have left. If she asked, I would have stayed beneath the almond blossoms until the last star died.
But she didn’t ask.
I didn’twanther to ask.
I wanted her to choose.
She won’t—not yet.
