Page 82 of I Will Always Find You
Olympius smiled; joy verily radiated off him. “If you think this is a cruet filled with the witch-goddess’ blood, you would be correct.”
“Olympius, were you speaking with her in your mind earlier?”
“Yes, my love. I knew you noticed that, and I apologize for being rude. I did not mean to ignore you, but Hecate’s will pressed upon me with urgency. She asked me to open a portal to our home without the rest of you knowing. That’s why I went into the bedroom. As I said, she chose not to engage directly in this discussion, and I knew well enough not to question her reasons. I am acting as her intermediary.
“I brought Aeneas’ consciousness to the surface just now so he could answer your question. If his answer was ‘yes,’ I would return the cruet to Hecate. If he said ‘no’, I was to give it to Cassian. The witch-goddess does not wish for you to lose either this chance at immortal happiness with Aeneas or your magic.”
“This chance?! Why didn’t she tell me of this possibility in Pompeii? Why did I suffer through countless centuries of love and loss, when she could have made me immortal at Vesuvius and Aeneas at his first reincarnation?”
“No, Cassian. Do not harbour hostility toward the witch-goddess. Hecate could never have offered such a gift to youandAeneas. She swore an oath to Gaia, whom you know as Terra, Mother Earth, that she would never elevate a mortal whose soul was not inherently attuned to magic, as yours is. A mage, witch, or mystic must be born with a soul touched by magic in the very womb of the Well of Creation to join Hecate’s lineage. She could never have offered her blood to Aeneas. He is gifted, yes, but not born of magic, as you are.”
“I see.” Cassian’s thoughts swirled like storm-tossed waters. If only he had trusted Gian enough to reveal Rufus’ true nature, perhaps he and Aeneas could have found immortality then. But longing for what might have been was a fool’s game. The past was fixed. All that remained was today and the promise of tomorrow.
An endless parade of tomorrows.
His heart was filled with such happiness and hope.
“Cassian,” Coriolanus said in a gentle tone, “it’s time.”
Olympius gently laid Aric down on the sofa and then turned to the Romani witch. “Begin incorporating the memories of your shared lives into his mind, Cassian. Go slowly and leave nothing out, no matter how small or insignificant it may seem to you. The more you give, the more whole Aeneas shall be. And do not worry about the curse, for as long as I keep him in this sedated state, the madness cannot take root.” "
The process took several hours, with Cassian carefully and methodically placing countless centuries of memories and knowledge within Aric’s mind.
When he had shared all he could, he turned to the immortals and asked, “What now? What should I do?”
“Wait,” came the only reply from the ancient Lord of the Night.
After a long silence, Aric’s eyes cleared. As awareness returned, he looked into Cassian’s face and smiled widely. Tears welled up almost instantly.
The Romani witch knew, without doubt, that the man gazing at him with such love in those radiant jade eyes was not Aric, but his beautiful, wonderful Aeneas.
“Cassian, my love! I was lost so many times, in so many lives, and still, you never gave up on me. Even in Madrid, when that twisted, corrupted version of myself gave you every reason to hate me, to walk away! But you came back. You always found me.”
Cassian cupped the handsome, tear-stained face of the man he loved more than his own life. “Beloved, I could never abandon you.Never.” His voice trembled with emotion. “You’re as essential to my existence as the air I breathe. How could I go on as a broken man with half a heart, knowing you were out there waiting to be found? And now, we shall never be parted again, my beloved Aeneas. By Hecate, it feels damn good to finally say that name aloud and know it is yours, forever.”
Then, at last, the two witches kissed fiercely and passionately, as if finally quenching a thirst that had lasted lifetimes. It was the kiss of reunion, of soon-to-be immortality, and of true love reclaimed across centuries.
Though it pained him to interrupt, Coriolanus gently broke the reunion as time was running short, and Aeneas’ Becoming had to begin before the curse of madness could take hold now that he was conscious.
“Father!” Aeneas cried as he clasped the warrior-god’s hand with such affection. “I remember!”
“And soon, my son, you shall be of my blood, as you have always been of my heart.”
With solemn reverence, Olympius handed Cassian the small cruet filled with Hecate’s transformative blood. “All that remains for you is to drink this. The ancient magic will do the rest.”
As the glorious night poured through the penthouse windows and the Toronto skyline shimmered like a sea of stars, everyone present felt a deep sense of anticipation for the magical transformations about to unfold. Cassian and Aeneas would never again be separated by the Wheel of Destiny, nor by gods, fate, or time itself. Their souls, once fractured across lifetimes, were now bound eternally, unbreakably, and forevermore.
As their love blazed between them like an eternal flame, an unspoken warning hung in the air: no one, mortal or divine, should dare come between them again.
EPILOGUE
Toronto
“TELLme about your friend,” the dark-haired woman inquired of the male stripper, as she settled into the plush embrace of the black leather couch situated along the back wall in the dimly lit room. Customers desiring a more intimate erotic experience with a dancer or two paid extra up front for this spacious, private setting, a newly added feature to the gay male strip club on Toronto’s Yonge St.
Money was no object; it meant nothing to her. She simply desired privacy.
While the Adult Entertainment business was legally required to cater to everyone of legal drinking age, the vast majority of its patrons were, naturally, queer men.
