Chapter 50: Chapter 50

S A V A N N A H

‘KINDNESS IS MEASURED not by what we do, but by how we live. It is not found in deeds; but rather in the smile you wear and the love you spread. Without the right attitude, helping someone can turn out to be all for naught.’ At least that was what my mother always told me.

I wished that she could have come to the ceremony —but Mount Olympus was not voluntarily revealed to just anyone. Especially mere mortals.

Persephone had told me that in an understandably indifferent tone.

She was just as I had imagined: beautiful, reserved and regal. But when it came to the tolerance of the result of her husband’s infidelity for eternity, her darker and more hostile side made itself known.

I did not like her as much as she did not like me.

Persephone’s mother tolerated me even less —she did not like my red hair or my attitude because they were too similar to my mother’s. I decided that it was absolutely fine because even Hades could not stand her. Thanatos was ironically the most accepting of the blending of families.

Even so, the feeling that I was intruding still lingered.

I began to wish that I could go back and live with Phoebe again, just the two of us. I knew that things were not so simple anymore.

“…How am I going to tell her?” I huffed aloud. I was putting off even simply calling her to tell her that I had survived, because one thing would lead to another and my transformation would have to come to light.

“She will definitely have a heart attack,” Hades’ voice then chuckled from behind me as he patted my shoulder half-heartedly.

“For just how long have you been standing there?” I asked without turning to face him.

“A while.”

I stared off at the horizon of clouds and watched the temples and palaces glow in a golden sunset. I had been on the balcony alone until my father decided to offer his company. “I don’t want to kill her with this,” I said. “I mean, next to ‘I’m pregnant’ this shouldn’t be so catastrophic.”

“I do not think that Phoebe would even care about your bedroom related conquests when you tell her that you are now a celestial being that can transcend space and time.”

“Dad.”

“Sorry,” he apologised sheepishly, tossing his head back. “It’s going to take a while to get used to boundaries again.”

“I am sure that Thanatos didn’t appreciate your strange attempts to relate to him either,” I retorted dryly.

“No,” he sighed. “And I know, there are many times where I messed up raising Thanatos. Maybe he wouldn’t be so isolated if I had not been so focused on a family that I couldn’t have. But he is still my son for eternity, whether he likes it or not. And I still want to try.”

I frowned in thought. “You know, if you really want to relate to your children, you should try and imagine things from their perspective. You won’t build relationships by trying to put on an act or trying to make everything about yourself.”

“I know how I can come across,” he admitted. “And honestly Persephone nags me about it all the time. I get it.”

I turned to face him and offered him a smile. “I have faith in you,” I assured him.

He smiled back and then let out a yawn. “When are coming back inside? You should be very hungry.”

“In a bit,” I said flippantly. “I want to watch the sunset.”

Hades dithered. Then he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a black envelope. He stared at it for a moment, before handing it to me.

“…This is your eighteenth birthday letter. You can read it now, or with your mother when you tell her about all of this later. Either way, happy belated birthday, Kóri.”

I took the letter, recognising the same stamp and shimmering paper. It felt warmer in my hand than the last time I held one of the letters. I realised that it was because of the increase of ichor in my system.

I watched Hades walk back inside before thinking about when to open the envelope. I wanted to read it now —my curiosity was outweighing the notion of being considerate and reading it with my mother. Then I realised how worried —or rather, eaten away at by sheer terror —my mother must be after watching the news. The mortals described the battle as a freak weather system, accounting for the lightning, streaking chariots and Poseidon’s wave. She might as well believe that I had not survived. I needed to tell her in person.

“Goddess Kóri,” a voice then snagged my attention. I turned around before smiling at Sych. “There is someone here to see you.”

I frowned. I was not expecting any more guests. “Who?”

“Follow me.”

She led me back inside and to the banquet. She then stopped by the salad bar. I glanced around —and then froze as I met a familiar grey-eyed gaze. They froze in the same instant.

We then walked towards each other hesitantly, as though neither of us could believe that we were here, and my heartbeat started beating faster.

“…Mom,” I breathed. “What are you doing here?”

What a stupid question, I realised. Why not start with something like: ‘Hey Mom, look at how I’m not dead!’

She actually smiled. “Your father invited me. You didn’t actually think that I’d miss this, did you?”

I shook my head in disbelief. “No, of course not. But I meant how did you even get in? You’re mortal.”

“Yes,” she acknowledged. “But since I was personally invited by a god, I have the right to be here.” She then looked around at the room. “It’s absolutely beautiful here. And you,” she said, gesturing to my ensemble. “Your hair is redder than it used to be. It suits you.”

“Thanks,” I whispered, accepting the compliment since it came from her. She was the one who knew me the best. Then I frowned, realising that she knew half of what I wanted to tell her already. “Uh…listen Mom —”

“It’s okay,” she cut me off, waving her hands. “I…know. Hades told me. I…didn’t take it as well as I would’ve thought I would.”

“You…anticipated this?”

“Well, not exactly,” she admitted. “But I had prepared myself for a scenario where I would lose you. And now…you’re going to outlive me like your father? It’s kind of crazy,” she laughed lightly.

“So, what do you think?” I asked.

She looked at me intently, which was slightly unnerving. “Goddess of half-bloods, huh,” she said. “Way to come up in the world, honey.”

I paused. Wait what? She is…fine. She is not in shock. My eyes widened before I grinned and wrapped my arms around her in a hug. She embraced me just as tightly and gently stroked my hair. “I love you, no matter what you are.”

I withdrew and told her the same.

“…Is that for me?” she then asked.

“Hm?”

“That letter.”

I then remembered the envelope in my hand. “Oh. This is for the both of us. It’s a letter for my birthday.”

“You think it’s as generic as the others?”

I narrowed my eyes. “What do you mean?” I asked.

“Don’t try to evade the truth, Savannah. I know that you took them. I figured it out after I had planned to get rid of that box after you had died,” she smirked, holding me firmly by the shoulders.

“Well…why didn’t you tell me about them? Why didn’t you tell me that my Dad was writing to you the whole time?” I countered, deflecting from the issue of my snooping.

My mother sighed in defeat. “If I had told you, it would have done more harm. If you knew that your father was sending letters you would’ve asked where he was —or worse, run off to find him. I couldn’t have you asking questions about who he really was. Not then.”

I pouted. “It was still selfish.”

“I know. And…I’m sorry,” she said in a small voice. “I shouldn’t have hidden them out of spite. But what I did then, it wasn’t just because I wanted to forget him. I also did it because I wanted to protect you.”

“Well, turns out my life isn’t normal like you wanted,” I murmured.

“It was never entirely in my control,” she admitted. “I did try my best to keep you unaware of this world,” she sighed, glancing around us, “but looking at you now and what you’ve accomplished…I couldn’t be prouder.”

I smiled bashfully. “Thank you, Mom.” She was taking all of this quite well. Better than I had imagined.

A thought then struck me, though —if I had been able to open that box with my necklace, how had Phoebe done it for all of those years? I wondered if she received one from Hades as well.

“Do you have a black winged necklace?” I asked outright.

“What?”

“That necklace that I never used to take off —the one that Dad gave me. I used it to open that obsidian box. But I’ve never seen you wearing or holding one. How did you unlock it?”

Phoebe hesitated, and shuffled on her feet. My brows rose. I had caught her off guard —and whatever she was about to tell me might have been something which she had never planned to disclose.

“…I wanted to tell you about the box when you were going to move out and live your own life,” she began. “As I said, telling you too soon would have ruined all of those defences I had worked hard to erect. I’m sorry, Savannah. But I can tell you now,” she breathed, as though a weight were being lifted from her shoulders. “That box had been a gift from Hades. It was a jewellery box —designed to lock that way for obvious security measures. When he had to…when we parted ways,” she corrected herself, “I refused to have anything to do with it. I tried to destroy it —to destroy that memory of him —yet it lingered. The box was indestructible, and I thought of him every time that I looked at it. I couldn’t escape even that. I did have a necklace. But Hades took it with him. It wasn’t to spite me or get one up on me. He took it so that he could watch over you; be with you. When I told him that I hated him, he realised that you were the only thing he had left of me. He had to treasure that.”

“But what about after?” I questioned. “What about when I found the box? There were letters there which dated as recently as two years ago.”

“Yes,” she sighed. “As you know, obsidian burns the divine. And since I was not one of them, I could open that box without any issue. It was a good thing that I stopped using it as a jewellery box though —any other mortal could have just as easily have opened it.”

“And what about me?” I demanded. “You never worried that I would find it. The lid was really heavy, by the way. What’s that about?”

Phoebe shook her head wearily. “You were a child of a god, Savannah. Hades’ blood ran within your veins. I knew that you would not be able to open it. It was spell-protected against divine beings.”

A wicked, awful thought manifested in my mind. I could not help it —I was still a little agitated about all of the things about Hades which she had kept from me. “Was that to purposefully keep me away from it? Or was it a deterrent against my Dad at first?”

“I was just upset,” she reasoned. “It had little to do with hiding it from you. I wanted to spite him, so I made him enchant it when he left. I didn’t explain why, but he didn’t question it.”

I bit my lip thoughtfully. “…Why did you even keep the letters, Mom?”

She looked utterly guilty this time. “Part of it was for you,” she murmured.

“And the other part?” I pressed.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of her dark red painted mouth. “You know, if you truly love something, you can never really let it go. I tried to burn those letters —but time and time again, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I decided to save them for you, for when I would eventually tell you about Hades. But if I’m honest with myself, each piece of paper reminded me of him. That he was real. That what we had…had been real.”

Phoebe Green was just as human as I had been.

As I was, since mortals had been shaped by the gods’ experiences and antics. To hear her admit out loud —in fact, to have her realise it at all —that she had not quite grown to hate my father as she pretended to, eased some crease within me which I had not known was so misshapen.

As though it meant that it had not been all my fault.

“So…do you want to step outside and read that letter?” my mother then suggested, breathing deeply. She was exhausted from the mental drain.

I offered a small smile. “Sure.”

On our way back to the balcony I spotted a flash of black, tattoos, blonde hair, and navy blue wool. I had not exactly planned to introduce them, but my mother steered us in their direction as she then noticed their stares.

“I didn’t know you had a sister,” Chainsaw Guy said before anyone could even exchange a hello.

He then earned a swift jab in each side from both Søren and Abigail. “That’s her mother,” the Trainer hissed.

Chainsaw Guy’s eyes widened slightly before he had the sense to offer an apology. Søren extended his hand. “Nice to see you again, Mrs. Green.”

“Ms Green, please,” Phoebe corrected a little icily. “I’ve never been a missus in my life.”

“Oh, sorry,” Søren said sheepishly, flushing. “And, I apologise for Melchior —he’s not usually like this.”

Chainsaw Guy gave him a desperate look.

“Yeah,” I agreed, giving Chainsaw Guy a crafty smile. He dithered accordingly. “He’s usually gayer.”

By the look that he gave me in response, I knew that he would not let me get away with it. My mother suppressed a laugh as she shook Søren’s hand, then offered it to a mortified Chainsaw Guy, before greeting Abigail. “So, you must be the rest of Savannah’s friends?” she guessed.

I stiffened and dubiously tried to explain exactly how we knew each other, but Abigail had apparently been showered with some kind of magical amnesia spell because she came to my rescue, “Yes we are. She couldn’t have won without us.”

My mother looked at me for confirmation, but I just blinked stupidly. “Well, I’m glad that she’s not alone and hopeless,” she told them. “Thank you for taking care of her.”

Murmured welcomes filled an awkward silence.

She had made it sound as though I were a toddler who needed to be reined in on a leash. My cheeks consequently warmed.

“…Okay,” I then blurted, grabbing Phoebe’s hand, “Later,” I called as I pulled her away, desperate to put as much distance between us as possible.

“Why did you drag us away so suddenly?” she asked as I marched towards the balcony.

“Mom, that was…so weird,” I struggled to find the right word. “Why did you imply that I can’t do anything by myself, like a child? They’re my…friends. Sort of. They might all be over a century but they’ve the got the minds of teenagers, trust me.”

My mother snorted. “That’d be the first time I’m hearing something like that. You have always been so insistent on your independence, but usually your escapades don’t end well.”

“They didn’t need to know that,” I grumbled.

“Ah, what? Did I embarrass you?” she cooed.

“Very much so, yes,” I admitted.

“Oh, you’ll get over it,” she scoffed. Then she smiled fondly. “…Look, Savannah —I can see that you’re perfectly capable of being on your own now. You’ve finally proven that. And, by the way, embarrassing you just happens to be a part of my job.”

I still grumbled —but I was suppressing my own smile.

✠

My dearest Savannah,

As you can tell from the opening sentence, I changed the letter from its original draft. In the old version I realised that I was sounding too much like the man I did not want to be — the man who I used to be. But starting now, today, I plan to change. I want to be the father you deserve. I also want to the friend your mother needs as well, if she will let me be that much. Know that I never wanted to leave you — either of you. You will both always have a place in my heart.

Fate and circumstances will not allow us to be the family I am sure that each one of us wishes that we could be, but I hope that will not stop us from acting like family. Of course, I hope that your mother knows that I would take the opportunity to be with her in another life in a heartbeat. I know how unbelievably selfish that is, but that is what I feel. Do not ever tell Persephone. She is my wife, my love — and in this life we find ourselves in, I will honour that. I cannot help what my heart feels, however.

And you, Savannah, whom I love unconditionally, know that you will always have your father's heart. You will always be one of my favourites. I would and will love you no matter what reality we are in, or what Fate decrees. I know how you forgave me when I returned was well undeserved, but I am eternally grateful for your compassion. You had no obligation to forgive me at all. But thank you. I am still working towards forgiving myself. I am not sure that I will ever be able to do so. But on a lighter note: I look forward to having you around for eternity. Perhaps it will one day make up for the years I wasted being a coward.

Now, if you do not read this with your mother, please tell her that I will always love her, even if she does not. Because I have come to realise that that is indeed what love is.

Hades.

In the end, the letter was the longest that he had ever written.

He had poured himself into the pages, bore his soul. Some parts were a little controversial, especially his feelings for Phoebe versus Persephone. But we had to give him the benefit of the doubt. My mother acted irritated, whether with the length or contents —but I could see that she was actually less upset with Hades than usual. Her gaze lingered on the last few sentences for a while; words declaring that he would love her even if she would not —and I felt for her as tears welled up in her eyes.

“If anything about him should change, that shouldn’t be it,” she had whispered, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

She did not tell that to his face, even when he personally saw her off by one of his portals towards the end of the celebration. I could not tell exactly what they were saying, but my mother did not look like she wanted to tear his head from his shoulders. I wondered if it would always be that way —my parents at constant odds; wrapped up with other people and responsibilities. It made me feel sick when my mother told me that she was growing quite fond of Don, and that she would not mind spending more time with him. I was happy for her —truly. But parts of me felt more torn than before; like I did not know where I fit in anymore. I was reserved though, and I swallowed the pain.

I could pretend to like Persephone.

I could pretend to like Don. I could pretend like being a part of two separate families was okay.

Maybe if I pretended for long enough it would start to become true. Then I would not feel like I was being ripped in half, like I did when I watched my mother disappear into the portal and my father walk back in the other direction, and with infinities between them. I sighed and decidedly looked away, up at the sky. It had no worries. The universe was its kin, and no one could take that away from it.

As I watched the cosmic heavens move from the balcony and clutched the letter against my chest, I still could not help it as my gaze followed the god of the Underworld in a black suit walking by a crystal blue river that marked the edge of a thick forest.

✠

I did not have to be quiet, but it felt as though I might wake the castle up with every step that I took. I was nervous. Regardless, I made my way to the meeting spot on which Thanatos and I had agreed. He looked haggard, as though he had not slept in a month. I expected him to snap at me about the hour, but it seemed that he did not even have the energy for that.

“You know, I really shouldn’t be doing this. It can be seriously dangerous,” Thanatos warned me again. It was dark in the castle hallway, and the only light came from the moonlight that streamed in through the burgundy curtains. “Does Hades know that you are here?”

I rolled my eyes and sighed but I could not ignore the anxiousness in his own eyes. He was actually worried about me. I fought a sly smile.

“I know,” I murmured. “And no, he doesn’t. But please —I need this to happen. I have to ask.”

Thanatos sighed, but closed his eyes and waved his hand, summoning a soul. I inhaled sharply as a red misty form materialised before us —a stocky woman in black jeans and a torn leather jacket.

“…Nadine,” I breathed.

Her glowing eyes bore into mine, not full of pain but full of dull emptiness. She did not need to ask why she was here.

And she knew exactly what I wanted to ask.

“For the future,” she answered, and her voice seared my ears like Aaron’s had, making me wince. Emotion flickered on her face for a moment at the realisation that she was the cause of discomfort. “…The future could go on without me. But not without you.”

“That’s why?” I asked. “That’s why you died for me?”

“You’re not a total pain,” she said, tilting her head in a way that suggested amusement.

I could not repress the scoff that then came from me. “I wish that I could say the same,” I said quite truthfully. Thanatos gave me a sideways look which I ended up ignoring. “…I didn’t ask for you to do it,” I said self-consciously through my teeth. “You didn’t need to —”

“You didn’t have to,” she cut me off. A chill shivered through me as I flinched at her voice. “I had to. It didn’t matter how we got along. It was a matter of your life…and I could not let you die.”

How unfair. How could she be so selfless after the way we treated each other? And what about her brother —had she thought of him? I clenched my fists. “…Lewis ran off. He…he can’t go on without you.”

Nadine tensed at the mention of her brother’s name and appeared to be a little guilty. “Tell him that I’m sorry.”

“You should have told him,” I insisted, taking a step forward. Thanatos held me back, and I did not realise that my anger had gotten the best of me until I felt the heat of fire in my hands. I paused, curling them into fists. “…You didn’t even say goodbye.”

“He would’ve tried to stop me,” Nadine pointed out. “But…please tell him that I am sorry.”

I lashed out. “He won’t listen —”

“He needs to. He needs to understand that I’m gone,” she urged, and my hand flew up to my ear of its own accord. I gasped, and Nadine faltered.

“My voice…is hurting you.” She looked at me desperately. “Stop.”

When she gave that command, her voice softened, and no screech accompanied it. I could feel it; I could see it in her eyes. A flood of compassion. Tears stung, and I moved my gaze to the floor, where it was less intense. We may have clashed but ultimately Nadine felt that our relationship had not mattered when it came to the cause. She put my future and so many others like me ahead of hers, no questions asked. I knew the name for it: a hero. Nadine had died knowing it might be in vain; knowing it might not have guaranteed victory. Even with that risk, she had given her life for me. How could someone like that truly exist?

Thanatos then put a hand on my shoulder, causing me to start. His eyes told me that I needed to draw it to a close. I nodded solemnly and turned back to Nadine. “Thank you,” I told her. “Really. I’ll never forget.”

She nodded once, before her soul’s sudden disappearance, leaving a shower of red dust in its wake. It was then silent; too quiet and too cold, as though the very atmosphere understood what had happened.

“Did it help?” Thanatos murmured.

I did not know. I did not feel any better than before. Not even worse. In fact, I felt nothing. I felt numb.

“…Yes,” I lied, wiping my face.

Everything in me then understood the weight of how Nadine’s soul would never be able to rest in peace.

I felt it in my immortal soul.