image [https://i.imgur.com/D1dFkav.png]
Styx had no memory of this place, yet certain aspects stirred faint echoes of her origins—the boundless abyss from which she had sprung. A sense of vast oblivion, a collection of raw magical essence swirling on the brink of coalescence, enveloped her. It was a feeling akin to floating in a fading purgatory, where all she could grasp were shadows mingling with the rich scent of decay and the embryonic whisper of new life. Mournful sobs hung in the air, tethering her to fleeting memories.
A faint memory of powerful beings weaving power and harnessing magic stirred. Of being nothing in one moment and something in the next. The line along her spine sang with agony. This is where the Creators stitched her together. This is where the Fates cut her open.
Where they pulled her apart.
Knit her back together.
Was that why she was trapped in this limbo of memory? Did the Creators unmake her?
Frantic, she searched for any sign, any hint that she wasn’t just a formless entity in the void. Soft silken sheets pressed against her. They were cold against her feverish flesh, a comforting balm that proved she still existed.
Soft pops and hisses filled the air as nearby lava bubbled and boiled, the sound echoing off the walls. Each burst of molten rock sent a series of sharp, crisp sounds piercing through the heavy silence, adding a surreal layer to the room’s haunting ambiance. Occasionally something would shift, fabric sliding on fabric, rubber against stone, flesh against wood. It teased her with glimpses of hope while she struggled with coherent thought.
The metallic taste of blood and magic lingered on her tongue. Tangy and sharp, it spoke of disaster, of ruination and despair. But she didn’t know what they were trying to tell her. What secrets they sought to expose.
She didn’t know if they spoke of being unmade or being whole.
Now the darkness that haunted her began to recede, the edges slowly giving way to blurry shapes. Slowly, she recognized the cherry blossom tree that hung over her bed. Pink petals slowly drifted downward, lazily shifting back and forth until they slid out of existence.
Then he caught her attention.
image [https://i.imgur.com/Fz4OFu9.png]
Caleb perched on the edge of her mattress, his face etched with lines of worry that seemed out of place on his usually carefree features. He reached out, his hand trembling slightly as it found hers.
“Hi,” he whispered, the word heavy with unspoken fear.
Styx managed a weak smile. “Hi.”
He leaned in closer, the proximity a tangible comfort in the sterile silence of the room. “I’ve been so worried,” he confessed, his voice a low murmur. “Every moment you were asleep... I was terrified you’d never open your eyes again.”
She wanted to reassure him, to comfort him with the truth. But the truth was that she could have easily been lost to the encasing oblivion. Could have slipped back down that slope and dissolved into the essences that the Creators used to form her.
“I’m fine now.”
“Thank the Creators. You’ve been asleep for a while now, each minute…”
“What did they find? What happened?” Styx asked, desperate for answers.
Caleb sat back and let out a breath. “It’s not really good news. When the demons siphoned off the magic of the soul bond, you began to break apart.”
“Makes sense. That magic was powerful.”
“Yes, you started to fracture. That’s why you can’t feel or escort the dead.” Caleb hesitated, and she could sense his reservation.
“Spit it out, Cal.”
He ran a hand through his hair and adjusted his shirt.
“If you don’t tell me, I’ll tell Shinigami to follow you for an entire day.”
“Okay. Okay.” He held his hands up in defeat. “Technically, you aren’t the god of the dead anymore. You’re broken too badly.”
She should have prepared herself for the news, for the truth. But she was unprepared. Tears blossomed and before she stopped them, they cascaded down her cheeks. The lines of cold traced down the curves of her face and down her neck.
Caleb frowned and brushed a thumb across the traces. He slid onto the bed next to her, and she curled up against him. Now the tears fell freely, her shoulders heaving in great silent sobs. Caleb didn’t stop her. All he did was hold her tightly as she cried.
“Tighter,” she said.
He pressed her closer to him.
“Tighter.”
He adjusted his grip and pulled her even closer. Now squeezing her against him as she sobbed. Styx wasn’t even sure if she could identify why she was crying. It could have been the idea of being cut off from her calling, or perhaps the injustice of it all. Maybe it was the pain that still rippled up and down her back. Or the memories.
Caleb spoke soft words as he ran a hand up and down her back, and she burrowed in closer to him. Wrapped like this, she could feel all of him. Each flex of muscle and inhale. Each thump of his heart and exhale. After what felt like eons, she calmed, sniffling a few times before he used the corner of his shirt to blot her eyes and nose.
image [https://i.imgur.com/GRhdrPQ.png]
“Don’t.” She pushed him away.
“Shirts are easy to get,” he said, resuming his work. “Besides, there is this marvelous invention called a washing machine. Super handy.”
Despite herself, she grinned. “Really? What does it do?”
“Prepare yourself. I don’t want to shock you.”
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She peered up at him, and his eyes were sparkling with that mischievous humor that she’d come to love.
“It washes stuff.”
“Wow. Mortals are sure fancy.”
“Sometimes.”
“Thanks, Caleb. I need a good cry out.”
“I’ll always be here.”
She let out a breath. “What are we going to do?”
“First, let’s lay here a little longer. I’m rather comfortable.”
She smacked him lightly, but nestled back into his arms. The heat of him was encasing her in a protective cocoon, an invincible barrier that would shield them from everything and anything. They lay together for a time before he spoke again.
“The Fates and Anubis are working to find a solution. Anubis thinks the Creators must have left some information. You are their creation, after all, with a divine purpose. They wouldn’t abandon you with no hope of repair.”
“Doubtful.”
“I believe it. The Creators wouldn’t leave their creations with no hope. That’s not how they operate.”
“Well, let’s hope that you’re right.”
“Cal is always right.” He winked.
Styx chuckled. “Now I really don’t believe that.”
“Besides, even if we don’t find a solution, I’ll never leave you.”
Styx leaned away and looked up into his eyes. “You can’t say that. Being shackled to a broken god doesn’t sound like a good relationship.”
“I don’t consider you broken,” he said.
“You just said I’ve been broken too badly.”
“Your divine purpose might have suffered a little right now, but that doesn’t mean you’re a broken anything. Everyone experiences little hiccups in their lives. Like when I was told I lacked magic.”
“What happened?”
Caleb let out a breath. “I’d just convinced Everlong Winter to take me as her apprentice. She sat me down by the fire and explained that to be her apprentice, I needed to have a certain amount of magic inside. I remember feeling so excited. Because I’d already been studying occult sciences for several years and was enraptured. I knew I had magic. Why else was I so attracted to it?”
“But you didn’t.”
“No, when Everlong threw the potion into the fire and wiped it across my forehead, I was practically bouncing. We both waited and watched for the flames to call out my magic, to see it written across my skin. But nothing happened. Nothing at all. I don’t think I’ve ever felt such disappointment in my life. No, it wasn’t even disappointment. I was such a combination of rage and sorrow and hopelessness. I thought my entire life’s work was suddenly gone.”
“But Everlong still took you as an apprentice.”
“I think she took pity on my tears.” Caleb grinned. “I started sobbing like a baby. Full on snot dripping, ugly crying. But she told me I had promise, so she allowed me to stay. Just because that part of me is missing, doesn’t make me less. Just like you.”
“No, it’s different.”
“You’re right, it is different. There is no hope for me to obtain magic, but there is hope that we can heal you. Broken things can be mended. Especially considering you’re made of magic. There are countless spells and rituals that heal what has fractured.”
“Are you really this optimistic? Or are you pretending for me?”
Caleb smiled. “That optimistic. The Creators formed you with a specific purpose in mind. They won’t abandon you. I wouldn’t even be surprised if they came back just to fix you.”
Styx scoffed. “The Creators haven’t appeared in the known realms for many millennia.”
“Still wouldn’t surprise me. Even if you remain this way, I’ll stay by you because you hold everything that I’m made of.”
If he’d spoken those words even a few days ago, she wouldn’t have believed him. But now, after seeing his dedication and loyalty. She was beginning to see the truth of it.
“It’s not because of the soul bond, either. I like who you are, Styx. I enjoy being around you, talking to you. I find pleasure in being close to you. Even if the soul bond were to vanish tomorrow, I’d still want to remain by your side.”
It only took a moment to search herself. “Same. You’ve mesmerized me. Everything about you is fascinating and entrancing. I’m glad, Cal. I’m glad that you summoned me, that you found that paper and read it.”
He beamed at her. “Excellent! If you’d said otherwise, I’m not sure what I would have done.”
“Will you kiss me?” she asked.
“With pleasure.”
When he pressed his lips against hers, she couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. All that existed was them in this moment. They’d share this and everything else forever. Each tiny moment would be theirs. They would treasure every fleeting minute.
As twilight shimmered through the large windows in her bedroom, Caleb’s hands slipped around her waist as he pulled her fiercely against him. Her fingers laced themselves into his hair, drawing him downwards into more searing kisses.
At first, soft, almost hesitant brushes gave way to a hunger that left her trembling. His mouth moved to trace her jawline with kisses like fire, each one coaxing gasps. As he claimed her neck, Styx let her head fall back, eyes fluttering shut. She clung to him tighter as wave after wave of euphoria crashed over them, threatening to tear down every barrier but this stolen moment of bliss.
Her hands grasped his shoulders, seeking warm skin hidden beneath fabric. Caleb shuddered as her fingers traced infernos across his flesh. Whispered pleas and sacred sighs arose unbidden, exaltations once sealed behind eternity’s door.
A voice cut through the pleasure, and Caleb squeaked, hiding in her neck.
“You should come down now,” Anubis said, his voice audible through the entire room.
“Damn,” Caleb breathed. “Damn him.”
Styx chuckled and pushed Caleb away. “We’d better go. Shinigami will come bursting in if we don’t hurry.”
“Don’t want that.”
Caleb slid from the bed and helped her stand. “You know.” He pulled her into a wicked embrace. “You’re a great kisser.”
“I’ve gotten lots of practice.” She kissed him once more.
He groaned. “Don’t mention that. It makes me so jealous I could give Phthonus a run for his money.”
Styx laughed, pulling him through her room. Blurs of dark purples, reds and oranges streamed through the towering arched windows, washing over intricate mosaics depiction creatures of myth. Diaphanous silks in vibrant jewel tones floated from the domed ceiling, gently stirred by a warm breeze carrying hints of ash.
Against one wall, gauzy purple and silver fabrics draped an enormous four-poster bed that shimmered like stardust. Runes in an ancient language that only Death remembered now were intricately carved into the dark wood of the bed.
A plush silver rug woven with metallic threads of gold, onyx, and ruby covered the amber marble tiles. Flickering glass lanterns cast dancing shadows across a collection of artifacts gathered over a thousand human lifetimes.
Caleb matched her stride, easily grinning at her whenever she glanced his way. Despite the breakdown earlier. She felt more confident now. Stronger, like it didn’t matter what happened. She could face anything and everything. When he eased open the doors to the library, she smiled at him.
“Man, Styx always scores the best lovers,” Past moaned.
“Always the talented,” Present sighed.
“Why don’t we ever get laid!” Past and Present complained.
Future held up her hand. “What are you talking about? We’re super popular on Tinder.”
“That doesn’t count!” Past and Present said together. “We want commitment!”
Caleb scratched his chin. “How would a soul bond work? It would have to be individually?”
“Duh,” Styx said, nudging him. “But the Crones operate on a different plane that even the immortals do, because they’re directly connected to magic. So I don’t think they’d be able to develop a soul bond.”
Past and Present leaned together and cried harder. “It’s so unfair!”
“Why look elsewhere?” Shinigami split into three men, each wearing tiny speedos. “Look at what I can do!”
They pranced around and flexed their muscles. Styx burst into laughter while the Fates covered their eyes and cried. Anubis just glared before turning away.
“I found these books.” Anubis slammed a towering stack on the table so loudly everyone jumped. “They are specifically from the Creators themselves.”
“See!” Caleb pointed. “See! I told you!”
Styx blew him a kiss. He caught it and pushed it into his cheek. Shinigami made a gagging sound while the Fates cooed.
“I want a blown kiss!”
“Send one to me!”
“He won’t.”
Styx waved them off and sat down at the table. Caleb pulled out a chair next to her and slid it closer, their shoulders now brushing. While they leaned over ancient texts, he would periodically interrupt her study with questions or interesting passages.
image [https://i.imgur.com/BqqVCIq.png]
She had just clarified some historical detail when the words turned to ash on her tongue. An ominous chill crept down her spine, one she hadn’t ever felt. It was as if invisible eyes watched, though what unseen forces had infringed this sanctuary of death remained veiled.
Styx froze, and in her periphery, Anubis stiffened before he glanced at her. While others might find his jackal appearance hard to read, she didn’t. Alarm, suspicion, and anger showed clearly on his features. One by one, the others ceased their activities, scanning the chamber warily. Even Shinigami’s mischief stilled, his playful grin melted away as they all sat transfixed on the shadowed corridors.
Something happened within her domain, something that could easily be her unmaking.