XXI: Mom Flicks My Forehead

There was a lake. Its surface was still and grayish, unbothered by the strong gust of wind that ripped me apart, coming from afar. The water stretched for as long as my eyes would reach, infinite but real. 

This was my "hallway", as demigods would call it. Where the gods would send them messages in their dreams, usually their parent but sometimes other deities. Called hallway because it was a passageway between us mortals and them gods. It would manifest sometimes as a waiting room, a subway stop, a meadow, and in my case a lake. 

To me, it was the lake. When a deity wished to see me, in my slumber I'd wake, standing by a small harbor until they approached in a small rowboat.

Minutes, until a small nave started showing from the horizon, gliding across the still water with an impressive, almost desperate speed. I squinted my eyes, trying to perceive who was the one trying to reach me with such a rush.

While it felt familiar, I didn't know who it was. A male figure, around six feet tall, with sandy hair down to his elbows and broad shoulders, nails black, and toned muscles. His face had harsh features, but, even so, beautiful.

A Greek nose, an upturned but serious mouth with sly lips. He had strict eyebrows that complemented hunter eyes, and his cheekbones accentuated that passive authority. 

But it was truly his eyes that seized me.

They were golden, more than floating spirits and the pegasi of Aristaeus. And in them, there was something I knew.

Just as the man reached the shore, I dropped to my knees, bowing my head down to the ground as my heart chattered like a nervous flock of birds.

Scared to look into his eyes again, scared to even remember them, I kept my head down, my hand quivering in fear. I said nothing, cowering pathetically before someone I had avoided for far too long. I heard his footsteps weigh on the wooden slabs, each one further killing my doubt. I was sure of who he was now.

The first real lover I'd taken, the first man to have protected me who wasn't family. The first man who'd shown me what it was like to be cared for. 

He'd broadened my horizons, showing me things I'd never dreamt of, swearing to give me the very essence of his existence. He'd given me his weakness, placing it in my hand. 

"I've never told you to kneel before me, why do you do so now?" he said, bending down and placing a careful hand on my face.

I lifted my eyes at him, staring into the same golden eyes that had given me everything and then taken it from me. Then, pain swallowed me whole.

Tears squeezed themselves past my eyes, flowing down my cheeks and moistening his cold fingers. I gasped uncontrollably, crying as he pulled me in and held me. He patted my shoulder in comfort, whispering that it was alright.

Guilt tugged on my skin now, leaving my eyes in the form of saltwater.

"Erica. Now, now, don't cry." he mumbled, placing a small peck on my forehead. "It's alright."

"Kronos." I hiccuped in response.

I paused, wiping my tears so I could get a good look at him. In what I assumed to be his real body, he seemed a lot more whole than in Luke's carcass.

But his gaze was painfully different. In life, where rebellion and retaliation was in every shine of his eyes, in death they were gone. Like a wild horse, broken. He gazed at me, gentle, patient, slow, but more than anything else, defeated.

"Yes, my raven?"

Unsure of what to say, I just held him tightly, sinking my face into his shoulder and kissing it, not as an action of longing, but more of compassion.

"I've missed you as well." he muttered, stroking my hair like he would to a child. "I've missed you so very much, Erica."

I sat in his arms for minutes until I stopped crying, savoring his soft embrace I wasn't sure wether or not I deserved. 

"Have you been watching over me?" I asked, sat on the edge of the dock with my feet dangling over the water. 

"As much as I'd want to, I'm not able to." he answered, staring deeply into my face, as if he'd forgotten its details. "In Chaos, it's different."

"Chaos?"

"The first of us all. He was here before Tartarus, Uranus, Gaea. And like them all, He takes the form of an entire dimension. It's where the forgotten lay." he explained, without averting his eyes. He glanced at my lips for a rapid second, but soon, as if depriving himself, he was back to admiring my mortal eyes and nose. "Under Tartarus, above Uranus. Chaos swallows us all whole, you would not comprehend, little raven. In Him, there is nothing. No memories, no past, no future, just primal… void."

My throat went dry, as thoughts of the present assaulted me. The pain and despair now took me by storm, the feeling of the crocotta's fangs in my skin making me nauseous. As if watching these last days like a movie, I felt every moment flashing forth my eyes, up until my supposed death.

Was this the transitory before the banks of Styx?

"Nowadays, I can barely conjure up a thought. That wicked son of mine." he sighed, before finally looking away from me. "I had to speak of an ancient favor to Nyx so she'd get me to you."

"Ah, I see." I mumbled, worry for Nico and his quest plaguing my chest and spreading like mold. But Kronos' next words gripped my attention, dragging me back to him.

"I was scared too long had passed, that you'd forgotten me. I never understood how quickly the human mind decays. Or that too little time had passed, that you still hated me. But wait longer, and you might've started fading from my memory. Even now…" he rambled on, coughing every once in a while. "I hardly remember much besides you. I do not wish to forget you. How long has it been? You have grown in height, only slightly, no? Forgive me for staring."

I had never seen him like that. He squeezed through one sentence after the other, as if he was on a timer. He had never seemed so desperate, almost pathetic. But even this disdain weighed on my shoulders like Sysiphus' mighty boulder. The damnation I helped what used to be our enemies put him through had changed him. It had molded him, rounding the edges that made him glorious, fearful, great. And as he kept on speaking about me, it all brought me back to that one phrase.

I was his weakness.

What I'd denied so much, to shield myself to stop my guilt from engulfing me seemed to be confirmed with each gaze he set upon me, and each word he spoke. He did care for me.

But it hadn't mattered to me when I made my choice, so there was no way to take it back. My brother cared for me more.

"It's been, half a season, give or take." I replied dryly, staring at the water. "I've grown a few inches, yes." 

"I see. Half of a mortal season, that is… that is… appropriate, I hope." he slowly looked into my eyes for approval. "Unless you still spite me for what I've done to your brother."

"Do you still spite me for what I've done to you? Have you already forgiven me?" I asked in return.

He laughed sharply, disturbing the still surface of the water.

"I will never forgive you, but I cannot bring myself to spite you. I've cursed you countless times, but after each time I found myself praying for those damnations to remain unheard." he scoffed, a pained smile in his frame. "Never before had I prayed to anything, Erica. I hope you believe me when I say I love you, even if you hate me still. You make me betray myself."

And even after all that I had gone through, those words still tapped into my heart and tore it apart, jarring with anguish that came from under my skin. I stopped myself from telling him that I loved him, clenching my jaw, but that only made the memories I had of him assault me, swimming through my blood and pumping it full of nostalgia. Pitifully, I raised my eyes up to meet him, without a single dry word.

"Oh, daughter of vengeance." he scoffed, almost as if in mockery. "I look into your eyes, and there is nothing but regret and hatred in them."

There was silence from my side. He chuckled, a sound that turned sour in my ears as I heard pain in his voice.

"I should have let your brother kill me." spoke Kronos, and when I lowered my head in shame he laughed again. "I didn't know then, Erica. I was wrong."

"Wrong about what?" I asked, looking back at the face of a stranger I knew so very well.

"When you met me, I told you that gods would kill for your love. I was wrong. Gods would die for your love. I regret not having done so. At least so, you would've loved me in death."

The look in his tamed eyes almost destroyed me, but I only swallowed dryly and averted his eyes once more, like the coward I was.

"Don't say that."

Then, I felt his warm hand cup my cheek, lifting my eyes for him to gaze through them patiently and thoroughly as if he had never seen them.

"Have the gods been treating you alright?" he asked, though I heard a pinch of resentment in his voice this time. I could not blame him, so I looked past it when I responded.

"They have, yes. They claim to be building safe harbor for minor demigods at their camp." I answered, without feeling the need to omit anything. "And I'm on a quest with Gasper Keller and Nico Di Angelo as of… now."

He frowned, puzzled.

"Gasper Keller, the mortal Castellan made General? How is he associated with your demigod camp?"

"He isn't. Nico di Angelo fetched him from Hades for our quest." I shrugged, looking at the ripples in the water. "Our quest is to kill Neoptolemus and free Patroclus."

I looked at him, trying to register his reaction. He nodded, and I saw the bulge in his throat rise and lower, perhaps in contempt.

"Yes. After all that is what demigods do. Not aid vile fallen titans in their world domination plans."

I smiled, chuckling at his attempt at a joke, and he smiled in return, which filled my heart with inexplicable joy.

"And you are well now?" he inquired, stroking my skin with his thumb gently. "No one dares to hurt you?"

I gulped uncomfortably.

"No. I fear we have failed at that quest. I fear I am on the brink of death, Kronos." 

His hand dropped at my side, and he stared at me in disbelief and grief. I did not understand its meaning, since he was dead already. Why would he mind my existence in another plane if he was already on the next one?

"So early? No. But you are so young!" he protested, hand shaking like a scared child. "Those hags promised me you would be fine. May Styx's waters burn them alive and rot their insides. Liars."

"The Moiras? What have they said?" I asked, ignoring the imminent doom that seemed to slowly creep through me.

Instead of answering, he took my hand and kissed it desperately. With urgency, he traced his lips up to mine, kissing me like he always had. 

Surprise flooded my veins, and I almost forgot to breathe as he took me in. His hand held the back of my head, sliding down to the nape of my neck, but when he removed it, it was stained with my blood.

"We're running out of time." he mumbled against my lips. "I love you."

He kissed me again, but this time I could feel something pulling me away from him. It dragged me back, out of his arms.

"I love you, Eris." he repeated, holding me tightly enough to hurt me. "Don't reincarnate this time. Please."

"What?" I muttered, at the mention of the name that once the Oracle and Alastor had called me. "What are you talking about?"

His fingers clutched on my skin dearly as he was ripped away from me, distance and space warping quickly.

"Eris, I won't be able to find you in your next lifetime." he ignored my question, just as he was forced to let go. There were tears in his eyes. I had never seen him cry. "Please wait for me this time. I won't be as long as I have been. Wait for me. I love you."

I was unable to respond as blood flooded my throat and blocked my speech, choking me and staining the water with red ichor.

"ERIS, WAIT FOR ME THIS TIME, LIKE I HAVE FOR YOU. I have waited eons only to see you again, do the same for me, please!" he begged, screaming as he sunk his nails into the wooden boards of the pier, looking into my eyes. "ERIS. I love you. wait for me. I will find you. I will tear through Elysium and torture whoever has wronged you, I NEED YOU TO WAIT FOR ME. I'LL FIND A WAY TO ESCAPE CHAOS, I NEED YOU TO WAIT. I won't be able to find you in your next life. I love you. Wait for me. I will give you the world. Just wait for me this once."

Confusion enveloped me while the lake turned red and swallowed the man, who still yelled a name that didn't really belong to me. Just as he drowned in the water, I saw the face of my mother before me.

"Daughter. Your journey isn't yet over."

Ominously, she raised her arm and pointed at my temple. When she flicked at it, I was thrown back, oxygen violently rushing into my lungs and plaguing me with alarming pain and the urge to run, hide, survive. My eyelids flew open to the sense of discomfort and disaster, unable to control the gushing blood from my artery.

My hands went to my neck, trying to press down on the wound still as the liquid splurted from me uncontrollably. There was a boy, perhaps my age, throwing something at the ground as he sprinted towards me and came to his knees.

His hands covered my wound, pressuring to try and control the hemorrhage. He said, or rather, he shouted, but my ears were ringing like bells and I couldn't hear him. My chest pumped up and down, my shirt filled with blood and my breaths horrified at such a sight. With each inhale, it streamed into my lungs, making me gag as if I was drowning. As I coughed, blood coming from my throat stained my palate, dragging itself on my tongue.

The boy kept signaling with nods and shakes, but I couldn't make out anything he was saying. He took his hands from my wound, dripping with blood, and covered my nose and mouth in such a manner that I could not breathe. I started panicking, but his eyes mandated me to calm down, and I saw that the blood slowed as I held my breath.

After he saw that the message had been relayed, he went back to pressing down on my neck. Slowly, my hearing came back to me, my surroundings seeping through the floor and making their way to my brain to process.

My mind was hazy, and although the adrenaline seemed to keep me alive, it blurred my senses, making it impossible for me to keep slow and calm. 

"...old your breath and press on the wound." he said, as he jerked his head to the left and started yelling. "Come here and help her, you piece of shit. Where's that fucking magic when you need it!?"

I looked around. Gasper stood still in the corner, staring at me and at the boy. The crocottas that attacked me laid on the floor, eyes rolled dead and a line of smoke coming from their craniums. Besides the person who helped me was a black gun, which I recognised to be some subvariant of a semi-automatic glock.

After Keller heard his beckoning, he went to me at last, functional but very much confused.

He crouched in front of me, as my eyes regarded him with pure urgency, but he didn't even seem to register it, instead turning to the boy who was aiding me.

"Rascal? You've grown so-"

"Shut the fuck up and help your friend. You've been gone and missing years and now you care about how much I've grown?" 'Rascal' hissed, interrupting his greeting and turning his eyes at my flowing blood. "It's bad enough that you have no gratefulness for who raised you, and now you're yapping about that instead of helping who just fucking saved your life? Get a fucking grip, Keller."

Gasper was silent after that, swallowing dryly before placing a finger on my temple and muttering a spell that closed the perforated skin on my neck and patched the artery that had been broken apart. The blood stuck in my lungs slowly faded, and with a painful cough or two I was able to speak again.

"Thank you." I mumbled to the boy who helped me, who now stood and offered me a hand up. I took it, although it was dizzying to stand up after losing so much blood. "Who are you?" 

"Nobody important." he scoffed, with a strange bitterness directed at Gasper. "It ain't gonna matter anyway, you'll be gone by daylight, isn't it?"

I nodded, half confused as I registered what Gasper felt about all this. Clearly they'd known each other before his death, and clearly this was another mortal like himself, clear-sighted maybe. He spoke to Gasper with spite and hatred, so maybe they'd fallen out before Gasper left? Still, after what was likely years, it was strange for the grudge to still hold amongst mortals.

"Wait. I didn't know I'd find you. It's been years." Keller said, placing a hand on the shorter kid's shoulder like a friend. "Rascal, I'm-"

The boy interrupted him with a strong hook across the face, leaving Keller whimpering over his re-broken nose. I observed all this as a bystander, absorbing each detail. The boy, likely nicknamed Rascal, was much shorter than Gasper and built in a similar way.

Skinny but not scrawny, with half defined arms and soft features common to mortals.

"You left all your friends and your family. Kyle had to drop out of college." growled Rascal, as he rubbed his fist. "Where were you? You said you'd call, that you'd visit. Where were you? You fucking jerk. You weren't here when your own sister got let out for something she did to protect you."

"Listen, things got complicated, and–"

"You said you'd be gone for six months, Gasper!" he shouted, and it felt like his pain could be heard in his voice although I barely knew him. "Three years! You left us!"

"I-"

"I know you were dealing with shit at home or whatever, but don't act like you're the only victim, for fuck's sake." he continued, his voice shivering. "I thought you were my friend. You just fucking disappeared!"

"Rascal, listen–"

"No. Don't tell me to listen after those years. You listen." the boy snarled, and I noted that furious tears had started to flow from his eyes. "You're gone for three years. You're not around, we don't hear a single word from you. You promised me we were friends. You forced Kyle out of college to work five fucking jobs to be able to pay for the fucking bills."

"He didn't need–"

The boy laughed spitefully, spitting at the ground.

"Not everyone's able to walk out like you did. God knows how you were able to."

Gasper swallowed again, guilt building up by his eyes. There was silence now, a small pause in the continuous flow that his old friend would not cease. 

"How are they?" Keller mumbled, as if he was scared to even say so. 

"See for yourself, I won't stop you from visiting." Rascal shrugged, trying to pass by indifference when all I heard was raw grief. 

Gasper said nothing, directing his gaze at the ground. He could not visit. He was barely alive, and he did not have time nor permission from Nico. When the boy saw that silence, he laughed, but it was not a laugh like Connor's, simple and joyous, it was filled with spikes, like a poisonous rose. He scoffed and sighed, ran his hand through his hair and then put the gun back in its holster.

"Yeah, I guessed so. On a tight schedule, huh? Fair enough."

 "I'm sorry. If I could… You don't realize how much I've missed–"

"Your mother is dying. She's gone blind, and everytime I visit she asks me if I've spoken to you. Your sister's on parole, n' she's basically given up all fucking hopes on looking for you." Rascal continued, while Gasper looked down shamefully. "Now you come back? Didn't even plan to see us, now you barkin' 'bout how you miss us? Fuck that, Keller. Fuck that. If you were gonna leave, might as well never come back."

"I know." said Gasper. "I abandoned everyone, I fucking know, Rascal. And I'm sorry. I just expected everyone to fucking move on. I'm fucking sorry, kid."

"No, fuckface. You don't get to be fucking sorry. You abandoned your family. For what, Keller? If you're so high and mighty n' chosen by some sorceress bitch, tell me. SHOW ME WHAT YOU LEFT US FOR."

Gasper stood silently, staring at the boy.

"If it was worth it, I'll forgive you. If you were able to find something deserving of all your fucking attention more than your own family and friends, so be it! Fucking show me, Gasper!" demanded Rascal, sobbing in anger.

The dead sorcerer said nothing, hands fallen limply at his sides and eyes hopeless in his frame.

"I… I can't."

"That's what I thought." said his friend, walking away after kicking at the carcass of a crocotta carelessly. "Don't return."

And like that, left the closest thing to a past that I'd ever seen to Gasper Keller. Turned out, even the ones who were the vilest had a motivator. I called back on the conversation we'd had earlier that night. Whatever made him pursue power, whatever he longed to protect, it had to be that boy, it had to be that family he spoke of.

I almost felt sad for how badly it had backfired upon him, leaving him more lonely than the exiled kings and queens from afar.

That night, after we were back at the room, I saw him weep for hours to no end. I did not offer him consolation, nor did I say a thing at all. Even now, I think of it sometimes, the curved figure of a liar, who'd claimed to have no weakness, no fragility with exception to his own mortality, crying and mourning his own loneliness.

I said no words of comfort or consolation, no gestures of love or affection, I only stood behind him. I think that eased him, maybe only slightly, just to know that there still was someone there with him.

That was the first and last time that I'd seen him weep.