Last Mercy (Epilogue 1 of 2)

Last Mercy (Epilogue 1 of 2)
A hand slipped into Caelth’s. She jumped and turned to see her husband there.

His eyes were on his brother. He said nothing. Caelth to watch on. 

“In Eredes’ heart, you are still His uncle, the one for whom He was named, brother to His father: family. He has asked me to stay my hand, and there is nothing He could ask of me that I would not give.” She opened her arms and let the shroud drop. “You will not leave this hall. From here you will continue your work as you should have comforted by the light I allow, reminded of my mercy and how quickly it can and will turn should you defy me.” He glanced down at it, working his jaw. Her diadem flickered the deepest black. The fire darkened. A howl of wind swept through the space from above. “Heed me, Erebos. You will be nothing. He has changed me, but so have you, and I will never forget what you have done to Him.”

Slowly, the darkness faded from the golden fire. 

“If He deigns to come see you, I expect a warm, gracious, and grateful welcome, do you understand?”

He stared up at her. His gaze drifted to Caelth, then to his brother, before dropping to the ground. 

“I understand.”

Penelope didn’t move for a moment. Then, she turned back. Her expression was placed. Her eyes were burning gold. She smiled. 

“Shall we?”

She walked past. Caelth looked back to Erebos as he gathered the shroud. His jaw trembled. There might have been a flicker of regret there in the darkness, but it didn’t remain. Then, the shroud slithered around him, wrapping tightly around his chest. 

He choked. “Wait— What—”

Caelth took her husband’s hand and followed after Penelope, up through the dark back to Penelope’s weaving hall, where threads had rearranged themselves. Just before the door closed, she felt a familiar presence beyond them, then he was gone.

What was her son doing?

Penelope picked up the empty spool and set it on a golden spinning wheel.

“What did you do?”

“I trusted once,” Penelope said. “Never again. Not him.” She glanced over at them, then went to the window, looking out into the rolling nebulae. “Don’t worry. He won’t die. He won’t be cold. He may even come to like being draped in the record of the Fate he created.”

“What you said… about you remembering?”

“There is always a price,” she said and took a deep breath. “I could not cut it out, but I can separate it.”

“That is too much to carry,” Caelth shook her head. “You cannot carry that.”

“I can.” She chuckled. “Without complaint, and I will if He is… unburdened from here into the thousands of lives we have… Can you see it?”

Caelth hesitated, but she looked. Time gushed forward like a never-ending sea, and yet there wasn’t a glimmer of that darkness entangled with her son.

“See?” Penelope turned back, smiling at them. “And you worried I wasn’t a good fit for him.”

Caelth laughed, shaking her head. “I am the Lady of Spears, Time, and Oaths, not wisdom.”

Penelope shrugged. “I hold no grudge.”

“Against me, you mean,” Caelth said and squeezed her husband’s hand. She looked over at him. His eyes twinkled, telling her in so many ways, the way he had so long ago, that her worries were unfounded. “For the record, you have my apologies.”

Penelope crossed the hall and hugged her tight. “And you have mine, that it took so long.”

She pulled back. “I should go now. Things to wrap up…”

“Penelope… will he remember nothing?”

Her eyes glimmered. “I can only hope.”

“Did he truly ask that of you?”

Her lips tilted into a small smile. “Leandros, the Warrior of Peace, said the war is done, and it should stay that way. Setusir, the Healer of Men, said it would only do more harm to me to harbor the grudge I wish to hold on to, and Ereders… the Taker of Life, would not let me take his.” She took a deep breath. “Perhaps not in so many words, but yes, He did.”

Caelth shook her head. “And you listened.”

“He asks for so little.” She chuckled, waving a list into her hand. “And it is time we get through the full list now that this is done.”



His eyes were like two burning embers in the warmest hearth. The furious glint in them from so long ago was gone. She lay beside him as he watched her. They were so different from the eyes she’d looked into in this last life, in the one before. Lifetimes warmer. Younger. Gentler. Kinder. Yet they were just as full of love looking at her now as they had ever been. Maybe more even as she knew he was slowly and surely forgetting everything that had happened. 

He reached for her, cupping her face and leaning closer without hesitation to kiss her gently. For that alone, it was all worth it. 

“I'll see you soon," he whispered. “Will you wait for me?”

She shifted closer, basking in his warmth, pulling his head onto her chest. Their garden, this little corner of Deturos that was just theirs, made of glass flowers and a sky of vowfire, started to fade away as they melted away, slipping into the mortal world the way they had done more times than she could count and more times than he would ever remember.

"I would wait forever for you.” She smiled, her lips twitching. "But we won’t have to wait long.”

“Soon?

“Soon.”

He vanished from her arms, and she took a deep breath. A streak of light, a warm violet, washed over the sky and tilted the garden around her. 

When she opened her eyes, she stood at a dock. It wasn’t the dock of Caelthos. 

Thryaon. 

She smiled at that and reached up to her brow. The Helm rested there. Her bag weighed on her shoulder. She looked out across the ocean toward the mainland. She followed the shore north. 

She was headed to Alexandria.

“Kyria?” She looked over at the man standing on the dock and smiled. Achilles smiled back at her. “Shall we cast off?”

She hesitated and bit her lip before nodding.

She stepped into the boat and settled herself in the bow. Achilles cast off, heading toward the mainland’s shores to follow it around to the Elaegian Fjord, where Alexandria was. They could have crossed through the mainland, but she hadn’t wanted to.

She hadn’t wanted to wait that long.

“Great Eris!”

Penelope lifted her gaze to the young man rushing down the dock. Broad-shouldered, wiry with messy, dark curls that stuck up and waved in the sea wind. A black diadem rested on his brow above eyes the color of rubies. He wore a stiff-looking jacket, customary of the mainland and suited for the weather. On his chest was the crest of the mainland’s crown and a roaring lion.

His smile rivaled the sun, and though his eyes held no recognition, she knew him to the depths of her soul and beyond any shadow of a doubt.