The Petros Chronicles Boxset

by Diana Tyler

  All around the Ashers’ circle, the stone splashed ribbons of rippling, multicolored light that streamed through the air like ocean waves. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet… The colors spiraled up through the middle of the circle like a tornado as a glowing white band stretched through the center, mimicking the barred galaxy inside the stone.

  The ground quaked as the necklace started swinging, oscillating like a pendulum with the rhythm of a clock. Chloe hung onto the stone, but it had a mind of its own. It loosed itself from the leather string and flew like a magnet to the heart of the spiral, positioning itself in the exact place where Chloe had seen the planet.

  “It’s breaking apart!” cried a blond middle-aged woman with a pixie cut and light-colored, close-set eyes, which were opened as wide as they could go.

  The dark fog that had covered the rebels’ bodies was melting away, receding into the walls and drifting out through the hole where it was immediately swallowed by light.

  “Evadne, do your doma’s effects always disappear this quickly?” Talia asked the blond woman.

  But before Evadne could reply, Cronus’s body stood erect, as if being pushed up from below. Half of him was shrouded by darkness, the other half painted gold by the slanting sunlight. The Ashers’ feet shuffled into their ranks, preparing to fend him off any way they could. Cronus gravitated toward the galaxy, just as the jasper had, floating toward it with eyes closed and head lolling toward his shoulder. The Ashers watched in stupefied silence as the unconscious spirit sailed past them, a ghostly ship in the night, never once raising a finger at them or peeling open a heavy-browed eye. He stopped just inches from the spinning bands, so close that his robe and skin took on their light, and still he did not stir.

  From where she stood, Chloe could sense the lingering death in his body. Something external was animating him, propelling him toward the stone. It happened so fast that Chloe blinked three times to make sure she hadn’t imagined it: Cronus disappeared into the white heart of the galaxy, leaving behind no trace except for his laurel crown, left on the floor in a crumpled heap.

  “Chloe, my dear,” said the councilman, nodding toward the other spirits, “it appears your intuition is sound.”

  They, too, were rising. Even those who had been victims of Talia’s toxic gas were somehow being reassembled; their very cells and sinews sewn back together by an unseen surgeon’s hands.

  Chloe shuddered as Ares moved past her; the wounds of his neck sealed completely, the ichor on his breastplate gone. He looked so peaceful, almost angelic, as the spray of light softened the hard lines and austere ridges of his face.

  Maybe he’ll be different on the new planet, Chloe thought, although she knew it was only wishful thinking. Duna delighted in new beginnings, but he did not bestow them without request. If the spirits desired renewal, to be recreated from within, they would have to humble themselves before him, a notion that seemed more impossible than the scene she watched playing out before her now.

  The spirits passed into the galaxy, one by one, as harmless and docile as lambs, leaving behind only their spears and swords, and the eagle whose feathered form was lying dead near the tripod. The only spirit who was alive and therefore perfectly aware of what was happening was Athena.

  “What’s happening?” the goddess screamed, beads of sweat lining her porcelain brow as she leaned away from the galaxy’s pull. “Duna, help me! Duna, hear me!” Tears spilled down her cheeks, each one shining like a prism in the dancing lights. At last exhaustion seized her, and she stopped fighting, letting herself be carried by the current. “I was wrong,” she whispered. “I am a wretched fool.” Just as Athena’s right arm was fading into the silvery haze, a strong wind accompanied by the sound of a rushing river pushed her aside. She looked around, eyes wide with fear, and found Nereus standing over her, his own face frozen in holy terror.

  “He has heard you,” he said. “You are spared.”

  Trembling, Athena tugged on his hand, and together they fell prostrate on the ground as the wind disappeared as quickly as it had come. Nothing was heard from them after that except their hushed, barely audible prayers.

  Zeus was last to leave, his body having traveled the farthest across the cavern.

  Chloe saw Hector avert his eyes from Zeus, and she took his hand. “He’s leaving, Hector. He’ll never hurt us again.”

  Little by little, the galaxy vanished, its vibrant hues fading into light pastels, its small, fiery stars ebbing to pale embers, the jasper stone shrinking to the size of a speck before it, too, disappeared.

  The quaking ceased, the air cleared, and the Ashers relaxed and breathed freely again, no longer anticipating attack. The hole the businesswoman had made in the wall beckoned them with a breeze filled with the fresh scents of pine and lavender.

  Chloe looked around once more, her eyes searching the torch-strewn floor for spirits who might somehow have managed to resist the stone’s lure. She knew, of course, that this was impossible, yet paranoia insisted she confirm that every one of them was gone. Once her fears had been quelled, she followed Damian to the far wall where Zeus had fallen. It was stained with the dark amber color of his blood. She outlined the streaks with her hand and shivered at the cold still issuing from them like icy breaths.

  “They’re really gone,” said Damian, watching as the Ashers hugged and high-fived and held each other, their voices like those of children as they echoed high and light around the cave. “You did it, Chloe.”

  “No, Damian,” she said, turning to him, “we did it. You and me, and all of them.” She smiled as her family, family she couldn’t wait to know, stepped out of this prototype of hell back into heaven’s splendor. “If it weren’t for you, we’d both be dead.”

  Damian gave a half-smile and looked down at his sneakers. “I’m thankful I got a second chance to save my sister.”

  “You know you didn’t need that second chance to prove yourself, right? I love you no matter what.”

  Damian scratched his ear. “Now this is getting cheesy.” He laughed and put his arm around her as they walked toward their father waving to them from the exit. “I love you, too.”

  The first thing Chloe saw when she stepped out of the mountain was the sight of Apollo’s white horses prancing together in a circle around the Ashers. They stopped when they saw Chloe and walked slowly toward her, their snowy manes like royal trains as they swept through the grass. Their ears pricked forward and they lowered their regal heads to the level of her face, then looked at her with intelligent eyes that she could swear saw through her soul. They were apologizing to her, she knew, for flying her to the rebels’ den.

  “It wasn’t your fault.” She reached out and stroked their muzzles. “And besides, we’re all okay now.”

  The animals whinnied softly, then took off galloping into the open plain before them, like two birds freed from their cage.

  Chloe heard someone gasp, and turned to look at the black mountain shifting and groaning, its black basalt face transforming into shimmering rose quartz. Around its summit, the fog and smoke evaporated, revealing rays of the warmest light encircling the peak like a crown. Chloe looked on in speechless wonder as the mountain’s sides began to stretch upwards, trading its unremarkable roundness for a proud pinnacle, exalting its maker.

  Chloe turned back to the forest and saw that it was undergoing its own transformation, as if a curse was lifting from it. The overgrown vines that had choked the trees snapped like twigs and vanished. Ethereal notes of music touched the trunks and boughs, as well as the multicolored butterflies flittering past and alighting on the limbs. The thick stormy air retreated, routed by a clean crisp wind, which carried with it the pleasant smell of Carya.

  The messenger appeared in the Ashers’ midst, absent her characteristic cloud, and greeted them with a ladylike curtsy. Chloe spotted Hermes hovering in the shadows. He landed and stepped forward, with head bowed and hands trembling, and laid his golden wand at Carya’s feet. He took o
ff his cap, unfastened his sandals and shamefully pushed them forward, like a thief returning his loot.

  “My lady,” he said, his chin tucked to his chest as he remained kneeling before her. “I’m ready to receive the judgment I deserve. It will be my honor to serve as an example to all heaven’s ángeloi who harbor in their hearts even the slightest trace of pride.”

  Carya leaned over Hermes and tilted his chin up to her. Even from where she stood some fifteen feet away, Chloe could see Carya’s blue eyes twinkling with compassion. She whispered something into his ear, and Hermes began to weep in a manner different from the one he’d displayed in Ourania. His tears were not those of guilt, but of gratitude. Carya returned the wand to his hand and his cap to his head, and put his sandals back on his feet herself. Hermes had to wipe his face repeatedly to keep his tears from spilling onto her auburn hair.

  When she was finished, Carya stood, kissed Hermes’ cheek, and turned back to the Ashers, many of whom were also drying their misty eyes.

  “All of Heaven celebrates the triumph of this day,

  For every cruel, black-hearted foe has been vanquished, put away.

  All are exiled on a sphere in space, never to harm your world again,

  The Petros you return to will be void of their stench and stain.

  Fill thine hearts one final time with the sounds and hues of glory,

  And stow away inside them the threads of this great story.”

  Carya took a deep breath and joined her hands as her white robe began to glow. She’d said, so beautifully and succinctly, all she’d come to say.

  Chloe knew she might never see her again to ask. “Carya, can you tell us the name of the place the rebels were sent to?”

  Carya looked as though she hadn’t heard her. The halo of light around her gown began to grow, dispersing itself in luminous waves until it bathed the Ashers in light.

  “Whether called Hellas or Ellada, it is a land which shall never know peace,

  In the future it shall be remembered as the mountains and isles of Greece.”

  All at once, the other Ashers opened their mouths to ask their own questions.

  “Is it a world like ours, then?” Andrina asked, her strong voice rising above the others.

  “I wonder if it will ever have humans,” Damian muttered. He knew as well as Chloe that it wouldn’t do any good to project any louder; the fate of Greece wasn’t their business. Their business was getting home, back to a place that might not feel like home at all.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  AWAKENING

  Chloe awakened to the sound of a goldfinch chirping nearby. With a yawn, she opened her eyes and saw the bird perched on a wooden railing that was strangely familiar.

  “My treehouse.” Chloe jerked up to a sitting position and steadied her breath as she looked around.

  In the corner was her red plastic chair, the one she’d had since she was four years old and refused to part with. The wall above it bore the words “Chloe’s treehouse” boldly scribbled in mint-green chalk. She looked down at the sleeping bag she’d been lying on, and the pink pillow atop it monogrammed with her initials.

  Everything was just as she remembered. Everything except the cartoons of Rhoda and Farley she’d nailed to the walls herself. Those imaginary characters had been her only confidants in the old timeline. Their farfetched stories were once her longed-for escape from ordinary life. It was funny how ordinary life was what she longed for now. More than adventure, more than superpowers, more than anything, her soul craved the life she knew had been eluding her for so long.

  Chloe jumped as the goldfinch’s wings flapped and twitched in agitation. Its forked tail was skimmed by a neon yellow Frisbee sailing past it into the treehouse. Chloe picked up the Frisbee and held it firmly in her shaking hands as she went out to the balcony.

  “Sorry.”

  Chloe looked down to see a small brown-haired boy looking up at her with shy, apologetic eyes. “Ethan?” Chloe touched her throat; the voice that had come from it was not hers, but a child’s.

  “How do you know my name?”

  Chloe looked down at her shoes. They were baby-pink high-tops with blinking lights on the soles. Her hands were small and slightly chubby, and as she gripped the rail, she realized it rose all the way to her chest.

  As she flung the Frisbee down to Ethan, Damian sprang from the back door and bounded down the stairs, two juice boxes in hand. He set one down on the grass and gave the other to Ethan, then ran to the treehouse and gripped the ladder.

  “When did you wake up?” Chloe asked him, hoping she hadn’t lost her mind.

  “An hour or so ago.” He climbed up the ladder to the balcony and shook a long blond ringlet from his eyes. “Are you losing your memories yet? I am. All I can remember now is Cronus and the other spirits disappearing.” He looked past her, his eyes focusing on nothing but those moments that were still so raw and real.

  “Are Mom and Dad inside?”

  Damian nodded. “Yes, and the councilman, too. He’s a little younger-looking, actually.” He laughed and glanced toward the house, to where Hermogenes and their parents were seated in the living room, looking back at them. “He woke up in his office downtown and has been writing down everything ever since. He’s been visiting all the former Ashers and telling them to do the same.”

  “What do you mean ‘former Ashers’?”

  “We don’t have our domas anymore. Without the rebels and their followers, we don’t need them.”

  Chloe didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She did both, turning her face away so Ethan wouldn’t see.

  “It’s pretty amazing, isn’t it?” said Damian. “We’re picking up right where we left off, right before the accident.”

  Warm tears spilled into the corners of Chloe’s mouth as she remembered the day her parents died. It was a spring day just like this one, with one half of the sky a bright blue sheet and the other half slashed with sheets of rain. She looked toward the dark half, picking up the scent of the coming storm and imagining Zeus’ scowl in a far-off cloud. It was a good thing her memories were fading, she thought, otherwise the nightmares would most likely make her an insomniac. But then, there was much she wanted to remember.

  “I guess I should start writing,” she said.

  “Mom’s already got her laptop fired up for you. She remembers, too. Everyone who was directly involved with the fate of the Ashers does.”

  Chloe laughed to herself. It was so strange to see Damian’s little-boy body employing the mannerisms and tone of his teenaged future self. “Fate of the Ashers. I like that.”

  “Me, too. It’ll make one heck of a story for Ethan’s and your grandkids one day.” Damian smiled and started back down the ladder. “He doesn’t know anything yet, by the way. Probably thinks you have cooties.”

  “Hey!” Chloe’s cheeks got hot. “You’d better not say a word to him. You’ll freak him out.”

  Laughing, Damian waved her off, then caught the Frisbee from Ethan and followed him into the house. Chloe, on the other hand, could no longer feel her legs beneath her and sank onto the porch like a wilted flower.

  “It’s a lot for the mortal mind to absorb, isn’t it?”

  Chloe wasn’t the least bit startled. She’d almost been expecting Hermes to show up. She turned to see him hang his cap on a peg and wedge himself into her red chair.

  “Is this the last time I’ll see you?” Chloe asked, forcing her short legs to walk toward him.

  Hermes shrugged. “I can’t answer that. But rest assured it’s not the last time I will see you.” He smiled and reached into his satchel. “I came to give you this.” He opened his palm and revealed a golden pocket watch. “You’ve seen this before. Well, a primitive, more cumbersome version of it.”

  “The pýli?” Chloe asked.

  Hermes nodded, visibly pleased by her recollection. “It’ll replay all the events of history, the previous history, that is. Henceforth, your world shall never lack for
entertainment.” He winked and placed the device in her hand. “Take care of it.”

  “I will.” Chloe peered down at the watch, its pearlescent face reflecting her own. “Hermes, how can the councilman be alive if Mania never existed?”

  “Ah, but she did exist,” said Hermes. “After all, she was flesh and blood, as are you.”

  “But you must have, you know…”

  “Coupled with her?” Hermes chuckled. “You’re far too young, at least in physicality, to speak of such mature matters.”

  “But did you?”

  Hermes shook his head emphatically. “It was never intended for spirits to mate with man. Hermogenes was born to different parents in this timeline. He may be less handsome because of it, but no less fit to lead.” He laughed again, a sound that, to Chloe, rivaled the melodic chirps of the goldfinch. She hoped she wouldn’t forget it, or the sound of Orpheus’s lyre.

  “What about Orpheus and Eurydice? Did they have mortal parents, too?”

  “Indeed. And very long, happy lives together.” He gestured to the pýli. “It’s all there. You can see their story whenever you like.”

  “I don’t know how to thank you,” she said, as a warm breeze wafted through the window. “You saved us all in heaven. What changed your mind? What convinced you to help us?”

  Hermes’ countenance changed from one of mirth to one of solemnity. He leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees as he gazed out into the cloudless expanse of sky. “It’s a tragic fact that so many of us fall prey to the same, devastating lie.” He inhaled deeply through his nose, his eyes misting as he spoke. “The lie that we are too far gone, that we’ve descended too low for truth and love to reach us. That there’s no way out because darkness has blinded us to any escape.”

  He looked at Chloe and, as if she reminded him of something, smiled. “You know this better than most. You were in the belly of hell itself. Tell me, is it possible for anyone to feel more hopeless or alone than when they’re separated from their creator?”