Page 85 of Blood of Olympus

After sending the weary soldiers home to Athenos through a shadow portal of my making — Apollo’s temple gateway was, indeed, ruined — I slipped back into the cool darkness of my home with Vel close behind.

I’m going to hunt, she declared, launching into the night sky and immediately disappearing in the sea of stars.

Be safe.

Says the queen who threw herself off an airborne dragon today.

A short laugh burst from my nose as I felt her presence withdraw. I still didn’t know what a dragon’s meal consisted of in this realm, but she hadn’t complained, and nor had any of my subjects, so I figured it was a topic best left alone.

The quiet calm of the Underworld went a long way to easing the turmoil in my heart. The slight breeze ruffled loose tendrils of my hair as I stared up at the constellations that were as much a part of me as my parents were. Countless nights were spent with Charon, laying out on the soft, black earth — locating Hercules’ sword, the Pegasus, the Sleeping Titan and more within these starlit skies, or concocting our own, in competitive bids to thwart the other.

A soft smile touched my lips as my gaze landed on the Ferryman’s Obolus — Charon’s desperate attempt at recreating the bronze coin. With six faint stars in a mostly-circular border, surrounding a further six that looked less like a skull, and more like a child’s attempt at a smiling face.

Tears pricked my eyes as I remembered how animated he had been: a boy of ten, convincing me with little more than that dimpled grin and sparkling enthusiasm, that it was, indeed, a star-drawn talisman.

“It was all too easy to convince you,” his soft, memory-laden voice breathed from behind.

I whirled to face him, struck once again at the jarring visage of my colourless, formless friend.

“You could have convinced me that there was, indeed, a moon here,” I grinned, shrugging off the echo of pain. “That Selene was simply sleeping and that’s why she had yet to appear in the sky.”

“But Selene is sleeping,” he insisted with the same stubborn determination as that ten-year-old version of himself.

I snorted, saving him the trouble of further claims. “Sure, and Zeus still walks the lands,” I quipped, rolling my eyes at his scrunched expression. “Kronos is misunderstood, and Nereus isn’t an old bastard.”

Charon pursed his lips, frowning. “Fine, you got me there. But why are you here, Nyss?” he asked quietly.

“I just needed a moment of peace.”

“You can’t have peace in times of war.”

“Very astute,” I snapped. “I am aware. I just needed a moment of solitude to remember who I am, where I came from, and why I even fight to begin with,” I confessed sharply, marching a little louder than necessary up the carved obsidian staircase — perhaps throwing the doors open a little too forcefully.

I stopped dead in the foyer and exhaled heavily, too stunned to move. The Palace of Hades was already showing signs of abandonment. Dust motes whirled through the air in the wake of the doors, and the stench of stagnancy was sharp in my nose.

“No,” I whispered, spinning to the right and throwing open the doors to the living room too.

The sense of desertion was worse in here. The vine covered wall drooped, their leaves already turning a faded brown. The fuchsia sofa parked forlornly beside the unlit hearth. Even the magically lit lamps were dimmed morosely.

But worst of all was the fact that the characteristic scents of my shampoo and Charon’s soap — scents that had always lingered within these walls — had faded.

A sharp sob clawed up my throat and snaked past my teeth, leaving a remnant of a lump behind where more sobs were wont to escape.

“It’s like nobody lives here,” I breathed the words like a confession. Like an aching wound that wouldn’t cauterise.

“Nobody does, Nyss.”

“But you—” The sentence died on my tongue. Wherever Charon went between visits, it wasn’t here. And he didn’t live anywhere — not anymore. “I do. I will rule from here; hold court here,” I declared. “The last traces of my parents’ legacy will live on here. As long as I live, so too, will they. So too, will you.”

I flicked the last word over my shoulder, meeting his pale blue eyes. I swore something like pride glinted back.

“And you will live for a very long time,” he promised.

“Are you privy to the whims of the Sisters now?” I asked, only half-joking.

His cheek dimpled as he grinned. “No. It’s just a hope. My hope: that it will take you a very long while to meet me in the Elysian Fields.”

My returning smile was less warm. “Even if Thanatos himself were to judge my soul, none could proclaim me worthy of Elysium, Char.”