Destroyer of Light

by Rachel Alexander

  “Th-Thanatos?” she said, trying to calm her racing heart. “Gods above, you scared me!”

  “Seeing as how the gods above despise me, it’s best not to swear to them in my presence. I am, after all, the antithesis of every prayer ever offered up to them,” Death said, pulling back the hood of the himation with which he’d cloaked himself for the journey to the world above. Thanatos gave Merope a familiar and comforting smirk.

  “Apologies, milord, but what are you doing here? And why do you have… that?”

  Thanatos sat back in the corner chair and spun the sickle’s handle in his fingers. “Well, this was given to me at the end of the war. It was the only thing I asked for, much to their surprise… no realm or palace of my own, no special honors… especially given the despicable thing I did to help win the Olympians’ cause— something no one else seemed willing to do.”

  Merope shuddered, knowing full well what Thanatos meant. In the early days of the war against the Titans, the entire race of the Golden Men had been wiped off the face of the earth in the course of an afternoon by Death himself. Many of those who benefitted the most from what he did still hated him for having done it.

  “Justice exacted on the ones who nearly destroyed my family was enough reward for me. To this day, they’re baffled as to why I only asked for Kronos’s sickle. I think it unnerved them, but in the end they thought it was appropriate for who I am. For what I do. The way I figure, the weapon that the Tyrant used to castrate my uncle, to maim my elder brothers when he came to power, was a fitting reward. And if such a weapon can injure gods and kill lesser immortals,” Thanatos said, looking at her pointedly, “then surely it can handle a fucking abomination like your husband.”

  “But— he’s— if you and Hypnos are back, that means he’s—”

  “Did you not hear? Sisyphus escaped,” Thanatos said, setting the sickle against the wall. Merope paled in fear, panic seeping into her at the thought of her tormenter loose in the Underworld. He sauntered over to her, wings outstretched, his upturned arms presented to her. “But he was kind enough to gift me with these before he left.”

  Merope gasped, and cupped her hand over her mouth as she stared at the deeply pitted scars decorating his arms. “Are you alright?”

  “Mostly. Where it counts, at least,” he said with half a smile and his lower lip caught between his teeth. “Don’t worry about me, my lady. I’m a god; it won’t take long for the scars to disappear. By morning, I doubt you’ll even see them.”

  Merope was too distraught to catch his insinuation. “How did he escape?”

  “I was hoping you could tell me that.” Thanatos narrowed his eyes at her. “ When did Sisyphus learn how to bridge the divide between our world and the world of the living? What didn’t you tell us?”

  “I… I don’t know how he—,” she trailed off in fear. Nightmares of Sisyphus, Tartarus, the Keres, burning, screaming, choking… “Please, you must believe me! For the last eight years he hid everything he did from me! Don’t send me back to the Pit, I beg of you! I swear to you, I h-had… n-no idea he could-d…” Her words were lost. She broke down crying, tears obscuring Thanatos’s softening expression. “I…”

  “Shh…” Thanatos ran his hand along her cheek, cupping her face, trying to soothe her. She sobbed and shook and he felt her tears trickle over the back of his hand. He shook his head. This was not going the way he’d wanted, and he weighed whether or not he should even be here. Thanatos had spent the last month hunting down the sorcerer king, thoughts of Merope haunting his every step. He wasn’t used to waiting for women. For Thanatos, the time between desiring a willing woman and having them on their back was never greater than the span of an hour.

  Once he had returned to Chthonia, he’d waited three agonizing days at his king’s bidding before coming here. Aidoneus had told him to wait until Sisyphus was in Tartarus. And so he waited. Against every instinct he’d ever had, he waited, until she became a torment in his mind. Sisyphus was gone, and he wasn’t about to wait another month. Merope was killing him just as surely as he, Death, was the end of all things. He’d read all the signals she’d given him since the moment they met, her eyes examining him just as carefully as he had looked at her. But now, when he was so very close, she was hysterical and feared him utterly. What in Tartarus did that bastard do to you, Merope?

  “Merope, it’s alright. Look at me,” he said, waiting until her eyes met his. Maybe she was too damaged for what he really wanted. Or, he thought, maybe this was the perfect means by which they could both have some brief peace together and forget about the cruelties of the world above. Her deep hazel irises swirled in fear, then swam in relief when he studied her calmly. Another tear fell, caught between his fingers. He brought it to his lips and darted his tongue out to drink its saltiness, hoping that wasn’t the last taste of her he’d have this evening. “Merope, I’m not him. You have nothing to fear from me— ever. Even if you weren’t under the protection of the Queen.” He leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. “I just came here to make sure I had everything I needed before I left.”

  “E-everything?” she said, confused by the grin on his face.

  He looked down and laughed quietly to himself.

  “What’s so amusing?”

  “Nothing. You’re an innocent, in every true sense of that word, Merope. It’s an uncommon quality in a nymph, especially one who lived as long as you did.” Thanatos smiled at her, reassuring the woman that he wasn’t patronizing her. “I like it, truthfully. And since my attempts at subtlety obviously don’t work on you, I think I’ll have to be a bit more explicit,” he said.

  He leaned in and brushed his lips past hers until he felt her sigh in acceptance. When Merope opened to him, he pressed them to hers, their unexpected warmth searing through her. She hadn’t thought the kiss of Death would hold any warmth at all, that he would feel cold. Thanatos started with her bottom lip, lightly nipping at its soft fullness. His tongue flicked against her teeth, tasting honeyed date wine, deep and sweet and fermented, before her mouth let him in. Her lips slanted against his and her hand came up to rest on his shoulder. Merope tried to gain some sense of balance against the relentless vertigo of his tongue stroking and battling against hers, filling her mouth with the heady, peppery first press of olives. She deepened their kiss and tasted him in turn, her head tilting back to allow him greater access. Merope broke away eventually, lightheaded, her head buzzing, her lips tingling, and for the first time since the pyre, her heart beating. An ache, a flood of liquid heat, dead and absent to her far longer than her fiery sacrifice in the agora, overtook her with a fierceness that made her gasp.

  “Thanatos… I…”

  “I’m leaving at dawn to kill your husband, Merope.” He took her head in his hands on either side of her temples and pressed his forehead to hers. He spoke low, almost breathless. “But before I go, I’m spending the night in your bed.”

  “Why now?” The hand holding the sheet to her breasts clutched harder at his suggestion, as though she were afraid she would drop it right then, or that he would take it from her— rend it in his hands. Her breath hitched, realizing she didn’t mind either possibility. He drew away from her. When Merope shuddered, searching out his lips again, he knew that he had her, and would deny him nothing. Still…

  “Because when I reap him, I’d like to do it for you. If I do it for the sake of my own vengeance, it will cloud my judgment. And I think spending tonight together will give both of us a chance to… lick our wounds. I’ve seen you,” he said shrugging off the weight of his cloak and letting it fall to the floor. “I know you,” He listened to Merope’s breathing waver in anxious delight. Thanatos lounged across the foot of her bed and continued. “I know you desire me as much as I clearly desire you, but I will warn you now— Do not expect me to return to your bed after tonight. When I take someone, I only take them once. Now… knowing that, if this is what you want, I’ll stay. If not…”

  She glanced down the
length of his body as he reclined unashamedly naked, unmistakably aroused, at the foot of her bed. Thanatos let her examine him, giving her complete awareness of her choice.

  “Yes or no,” he whispered.

  Merope looked him in the eye. “Did you come here, come to me, to take revenge on him?”

  Thanatos drew back for a moment, contemplating his answer. Truth, raw truth, had always been his ally. And if she didn’t like his truth, then he would cordially leave now and find another to slake his unrequited lust. Tasting Merope’s full lips, feeling her respond to him, had been satisfaction enough. He cocked his head to the side. “Maybe.”

  She nodded and saw his sinews tense, preparing to leave at her refusal. “You gave me your terms, Thanatos, now I’ll give you mine.”

  “Go on…” he smiled. He relaxed his shoulders.

  “I suffered Sisyphus in my bed and in my soul for seventeen years. And I won’t do it ever again. So if you’ve come to me, thinking about my husband when you should be thinking about me, then I’ll ask you to leave right now. But if you can put our scars aside,” she said, leaning back and letting the sheet fall to her waist, “and allow us to enjoy each other for one night— then yes; you may stay.”

  “I’m certain I can agree to that, my lady.” He smiled at her and slowly pulled back the rest of the sheet, hand over hand, until she was fully exposed to him.

  He took in all the things about her that had haunted his imagination for a month. She sat up to meet him as Thanatos crept forward. His knee parted her legs and his arms held him aloft on either side of her. He brushed back the tight ringlets of her hair, tucking them next to her ear.

  “Every night, my brothers have quelled your nightmares and healed you while you slept…”

  Thanatos kissed across her cheek, and lightly stroked his fingers down her neck and collarbone, caressing the outside curve of her breast, a dark berry nipple beading against the gentle pressure of one digit.

  “Now that your eyes are open, it’s my turn.”

  His next kiss lowered her to the bed. Their limbs feverishly tangled together several times before dawn, alabaster hands on olive skin, male and female, awake and alive, both marveling at the contrast. She needed this, and though his ethos didn’t always permit him to give women what they wanted, he always managed to give them what they needed when he had them. He wasn’t upset at himself for bending his rules with her; it was all within the course of one night, and he wouldn’t return to her. He knew in the back of his mind that even if he did want to see her again, it would be impossible. Their last coupling was leisurely and sublime, and as he rocked gently within her, Merope finally let go— ready— at peace. When light started filtering through her window, Death quietly draped himself in the black cloak that lay pooled at the edge of the bed. He planted a kiss on the nymph’s sleeping forehead and walked to the window, sickle in hand.

  “Goodbye, Merope,” he whispered.

  4.

  “She went to Aeacus today to drink the waters of the Lethe.”

  “Who?” Persephone asked. “Merope?” Aidoneus nodded. She sighed and sat on the divan.

  He walked behind her, brushing a hand down her back. “Does that upset you?”

  “Only a little, and mostly for selfish reasons,” she admitted. “I enjoyed having someone from my… previous life… that I could talk to, but every conversation would drift back to all the pain she endured. I don’t understand why she insisted on clinging to those memories day after day.”

  “Many do,” he said. “Sometimes, it seems those who’ve suffered the most are the least willing to let go. Merope is not the first such soul I’ve encountered; and I assure you, she will not be the last.”

  “Truly? I’m happy she finally decided to find peace in Asphodel.” She stilled his hand on her shoulder and laced her fingers within his, looking up at him. “Any idea what convinced her?”

  “I have my suspicions,” Aidoneus said darkly. “Aeacus said that she was smiling, and calmer than he’d ever seen her. Merope told him she was ready and it was long overdue. She wanted to say goodbye to us, but told Aeacus it would only make it harder.”

  “I just wish there were something more that we could have done for her.”

  “What more? Merope is at peace now.”

  She slid over so he could sit next to her and gazed out over the Styx beyond the terrace. Persephone shook her head. “I’m not sure. It is true; Merope will be at peace in Asphodel…”

  “But…”

  “…She will be reborn one day. And while the living world is a place of joy and sunlight…” she paused when she saw Aidon cast his eyes downward. He looked exhausted. She stroked his cheek and reassuringly looked him in the eye once more. “There is still so much suffering. Needless, endless suffering. And it’s so strange to think that she will come back as a mortal with no recollection of the aeons she was alive.”

  “Not for a while, rest assured. Her circumstance is… unique, but we are the caretakers of the souls. We can’t make special exceptions in a cycle as old as mortality itself. But if we could, what would we do differently? What would you want?”

  She smiled and dropped her gaze, tears in the corners of her eyes. No matter how vehemently the House of Nyx and the Hundred Handed Ones had insisted that this realm belonged to her, she was still amazed that Aidoneus sought to include her as his equal. “I’d let the better souls rest.”

  He raised his eyebrows at her. “The better ones?”

  “Merope, for instance. Surely she has done enough good and suffered enough ill?”

  “Who else?”

  She thought for a minute. “Tartarus is there for those who spend their lives destroying the lives of others, is it not? But what about their opposites? What about those who made the lives of those around them better? What about those who sacrificed themselves for others, those who were especially brave or kind…”

  “And sacrifice their usefulness to the world above? Won’t the living world only deteriorate if we cloister them here?”

  “If they decided to leave, they would have that right. And new souls are made here every day. They can take the place of those who wish to stay. People can change.”

  He frowned. “You have more faith in them than I do, I’m afraid.”

  “They can. After all, we’ve changed, and it certainly took less than a human lifetime. I would be unrecognizable to someone who knew me only before I met you. And you’ve changed as well.”

  “Oh?” he said with a smile.

  “Well of course you have,” she said, brushing the lines near his mouth and eyes. “This, for instance. You were so very grim and serious when I first arrived.”

  “I was afraid.”

  “You? Of me?” she said with a teasing smirk. He nodded. “The warrior who fought Titans?”

  He lowered his head, the half smile still on his face. “Doesn’t compare to the terror of starting my married life with you, sweet one.” He chuckled when her nose scrunched up. “I don’t mean that to offend. Remember, it took me all the time from when you reached majority until two months ago to muster the courage to ask for you. And nothing in my life frightened me more than the possibility that I’d lost you forever, thanks to the manner in which I brought you here.”

  “But nothing frightens you now?”

  He looked away, exhaustion evident on his face once more. He’d barely slept the night before. She’d drifted out of sleep a few times over the course of the night, just as worried as he was, and each time she’d seen Aidoneus staring at the ceiling, willing himself to rest. She held his hand. “Sisyphus.”

  “It’s more than just him. So many things have transpired that are not supposed to happen. And after what we were told— what we saw in Tartarus…”

  “Husband, none of that was true.”

  “There were grains of truth. And now…” he shook his head and paled with anxiety. “A mortal… a living mortal has stepped through barriers that gods cannot cross, and he co
uld have done so at any time. But he chose that last moment, on the final leg to the Phlegethon. He only stayed as long as he did to observe our strengths and weaknesses. And I don’t know what he learned or what he’ll do with that knowledge, much less with the Chains he stole.”

  “How can he possibly have done that?”

  Aidon said nothing.

  “The Titans are infinitely more powerful than he is, so if Sisyphus was able to escape, why haven’t they?”

  He remained silent. All he could see was the last vision of Kronos.

  “And why didn’t Hecate—”

  “Because she was busy trying to reason with your mother!” he snapped. He looked at Persephone, her shoulders tensed, her face drawn. “Wife, I’m sorry. Forgive me.”

  He dropped his forehead into his hand and shut his eyes. Persephone leaned against him. “It’s all right. I shouldn’t expect you to have all the answers.”

  “I don’t think anyone has the answers right now. Too many impossible things have happened since…” he silenced himself, knowing where this led.

  “Since you brought me here,” she said, and watched him scowl. “Not all of them are bad things, Aidon. The grove, for instance.”

  “Well, our grove— and everything we know— will either end in flames or vanish into nothingness if she—” he bit his cheek and took a deep breath. “If this continues much longer.”

  “Do you think to somehow protect me from what my mother is doing?”

  “No.”

  “Then why are you holding your tongue?”

  “Because you asked me to. It was the first thing you ever asked of me.”

  “I recant. Speak your mind.” The gravity of the situation demanded honesty, but Persephone was quietly pleased that her husband had been so loyal to his promise.

  Aidoneus opened his eyes as wide as the floodgates she had just parted. “There’s so much I’ve held—” he swallowed. Where would he begin? “When I took you from the fields it was because Demeter was willing to sacrifice all, including you, to keep you from me. And even now, her stubbornness is destroying everything from the heavens to the depths of the Pit. I don’t understand why I became the target of her wrath when it was your father who mistreated her in the first place! He deceived and abandoned her, left her heavy with child, he killed her lover—”