Page 73 of Aïdes the Unseen
Irina and Heinritz both turned at once. The envelope lay between them like a ritual object waiting for the final act.
Irina’s eyes locked with mine—and my chest tightened.
She remembered something. I saw it in the way she tensed. Not everything. But a shadow of what we had been. Her eyes were the same. They always were.
“Graven,” Heinritz said, guarded.
But I was already speaking. “She’s not ready for him.”
Irina’s jaw clenched. “Forwho?”
I stepped forward, ignoring Heinritz’s silent warning. My voice was quieter now. Focused. “Hermes plays both sides. Healways has. But he doesn’t show up unless something is in motion. You triggered it, Irina. You did something.”
“I found a paper with mynameon it,” she snapped, passionate anger swirling in her posture, her voice, hereyes. “Found out I was being tracked like a goddamn experiment.”
“You are more than that,” I promised her. So much more.
“Don’t,” she warned, power crackling under the words. “Don’t speak to me like I’m a riddle to be solved.”
I did not want to have this argument with her. “I’m not trying to solve you. I’m trying toprotectyou.”
“Oh, well that makes it better,” she shot back, voice sharp. “Thanatek tags me, Mara writes about me like a footnote, and now gods in business suits are showing up with glowing envelopes, andyou—you just walk in like you own the story.”
I hesitated. She was hurt. No—betrayed. And I had no defense that wouldn’t sound like control. With that in mind, I revealed the only truth I had.
“You’re waking up,” I said. “And that’s dangerous. Because if you remember everything, the beings who’ve kept you scattered for centuries… won’t let you stay.”
Silence fell again. Not empty. Not peaceful. It was the hush before a fault line breaks. Irina stared at me, eyes dark and wet and burning.
“I don’t know who I’m more afraid of,” she whispered. “Them. Or you.”
Heinritz shifted. “Graven?—”
But I held up a hand. Not to her. ToIrina. My gaze didn’t leave hers.
“You should be afraid of me,” I said, voice low. Because this was another truth she’d never embraced, yet had always existed. “But not because I’d hurt you. Because Iwon’t. Even when I should. Even when the world burns.”
She blinked. The room pulsed with something deeper than fear.
Recognition.
Again.
“I knew you,” she murmured, softer now. “Didn’t I? Before.”
“You’ve always known me,” I replied, choking off the desperation that wanted to give her everything. “You just didn’t always choose me.”
The air went very still. Somethingotherseemed to study me through her eyes. I had no name for it nor the feeling it evoked, but there was a deepknowingthat rang through me. The rules werechanging.
Then Irina stood. Slowly. Purposefully. She looked at Heinritz, then at me.
“I’m done waiting for answers,” she said. “I’m going to find them myself. No more riddles. No more ghosts.” She turned to leave. At the door, she paused and added, almost as an afterthought: “You might want to start being honest. Because whatever happens next? I won’t be the only one waking up.”
That warning came from theothertoo. Before I could latch onto it, she was gone. The only sound left in the room was the soft, rhythmic tap of the silver-sealed envelope trembling slightly on the table.
It hadn’t done that before. Apparently, italsoknew what was coming too.
I watched the door close behind her, the resonance of her departure still echoing faintly through the field. Even now, she carried her energy like a storm just beginning to gather — wild at the edges, but centered by something ancient. Somethinghers.
