On the Balcony

It’s not that Asteria expected Educere to set her up in the nicest dorms ever. But she reflected, staring at the hulking mass of aged, crumbling marble and rotten wood; this was extreme. She kicked at a crumbling stair in disgust.

“These are meant to be my accommodations?"

“‘Fraid so!” Alista cheered. “At least you get the place mostly to yourself!”

“Someone else lives here?” she asked, bewildered.

“People who don’t have designated spaces in the main dorms.” Alista nodded. “Technically they were intended for any Unblessed, but instead…”

“So Rhei and I, then?” Asteria grumbled, and received Alista’s enthusiastic nods in response.

“You and Rhei! Don’t get into any trouble, kids,” she winked. “Well, you’d probably die if you tried, so doubly so.”

Asteria valiantly tried to control the nonplussed look fighting its way onto her face, but she obviously didn’t succeed as Alista laughed and clapped Asteria’s shoulder, sending her stumbling a few steps forward. Glaring over her shoulder, Asteria trudged up the stairs. Should she have brought an offering for Rhei since she was moving in? Too late now, she supposed, heaving the massive door open and summoning a massive cloud of dust in the process. The interior hall was as dingy as the exterior, cobwebs visible in the corner. A light was on down the hall, so she carefully made her way toward it, pausing as she got to a significantly nicer section, with soft carpets and freshly painted walls. She toed off her shoes before stepping in, walking toward the sounds of a kitchen.

“Yo.” She called to Rhei’s back, trying some slang she’d heard around the city. He jumped, and a sudden massive burst of flame spouted from the stove. “Wow.” She didn’t even know what could have caused such a big flare. He fumbled, turning around to gape at her, and she surveyed his outfit. He had shed a few layers, and she scanned him up and down. He might have a decent physique beneath the clothes, as opposed to her initial impression of him as weak. If only he didn’t constantly dress like he was trying to win Aphrodite’s hatred. His current outfit of choice included a frilly pink apron matching a pair of thick rubber gloves.

Asteria raised an eyebrow as he continued to gape in shock. “What other dorm would take in an outsider such as myself?” His expression turned sheepish. She frowned as he shuffled a step away. “The food is burning.” She cut as the acrid smell of charred bread reached her nose.

“Agh!” He yelped, turning around to quickly flip the flatbreads, revealing completely blackened undersides. He drooped in disappointment. “This always happens,” he sighed, flipping the bread out onto a waiting plate.

Asteria moved to stand next to him. She pointed at a pot of simmering soup. “This dish smells good. Though I have little to offer in return, I hope, as I am a guest, you are not averse to sharing a portion.”

“Oh, tha—” he turned to face her, and cut himself off with a surprised ‘meep!’ She scowled.

“You take issue with the principles of Xenia?”

“No, not at all! I’m happy to share. I’m almost done. It’s just, you aren’t afraid of me?” She gave him an incredulous look, pointedly staring at the frilly pink apron.

“Obviously not.” He picked up a tomato and moved over to the cutting board, pulling a knife out of a block and slicing through the tomato, rubber gloves still on. “Ah, don’t worry; the things I touch don’t retain any of my mageia.” As she watched, the corner of his forearm touched the wooden board, and it splintered in half. He looked at it, sighed, and moved to get a new one out of a rack like it was standard practice.

“May I assist?” Asteria hadn’t cooked before, but she was good with knives.

He hesitated, but nodded. “That would be helpful.” Gesturing to the knives, he placed a few vegetables on another wooden board before darting away to the other side of the kitchen. “Cut these however you like.”

Asteria sliced away. The rhythmic schick schick of the knife sliding against the board joined the sizzle of aromatics in oil as Rhei puttered away. Before long, they had finished the soufiko, and Asteria carefully fried some new flatbreads. When finished, she gratefully accepted a bowl of the hearty summer vegetable stew, fresh feta crumbled on top.

Asteria beamed as she took in the first mouthful, the soft vegetables exploding with salty, garlicky flavor. It was an unusual sensation to eat anything other than Ambrosia, which tasted vaguely sweet and was infused with mageia, but she enjoyed it. It was immediately obvious her mortal body had been craving food. She practically melted in contentment as the warmth spread through her.

“I thought Alexander and Aerin would have told you about me.” Piped up suddenly, sitting a few tables down, spoiled for choice as they were in the empty dining room.

“They did.” Asteria nodded. “However, I am not one to flee without cause.” She said pointedly, remembering how he had run away earlier.

“I was worried,” he admitted. “You’d get hurt because of me.”

“Then the rumours of Piraeus’s fate are true.”

“I was too young to know for sure, but it’s possible. There’s something to be said for everyone dying and me being the only survivor. It’s because,” he met her gaze, eyes dark under his hair. “I’m Titan-blessed, a monster.”

“Being Titan-blessed does not make you a monster,” Asteria scoffed, personally offended. If she had bestowed her power on this mortal, she’d smite him on the spot for the insult. He tilted his head consideringly. “What?” She scowled at him.

Rhei shook his head slowly. “I’m surprised.”

She scoffed. “You are naught but a mortal with too much power.”

“That’s not how most see it,” he smiled.

“It seems to me you control your domain—Blessing, that is—well enough.”

A flush rose to his face below the curled ends of his bangs. “Thank you. I try my best—a lot of the time that energy gets turned inward, which is why bad things are always happening to me, but it’s better than letting others get hurt.” He held out a hand and wiggled his gloved fingers. “Thick clothes also help keep my passive mageia close, and reflect any damage onto them and myself instead of on others. These are specifically charmed to contain mageia. But these are just precautions. I can’t trust them.”

Asteria nodded along, thinking of the sudden flame and the fact he’d come into class with a sprained ankle—and was glad to finally have an explanation for his fashion sense.

“Mortals fear death too strongly for how short their lives are.” Asteria rolled her eyes. “Everything changes, ‘you never step in the same river twice,’” she quoted. Rhei’s smile turned a little odd.

“Ta Panta Rhei,” he noted. “My name comes from that saying, but I see it more as everything comes to dust,” he corrected bitterly. “All will one day be destroyed.”

It was almost funny that once upon a time, Asteria might have defended destruction as a force clearing the way for renewal and nourishing what follows the ash. But that was a belief afforded to the man she had loved.

Destruction had proven its nature in the end.

Despite herself, Rhei reminded her of Περσης—there was no denying their similar powers and personalities—but it wasn’t good. It didn't mean she should act like a fool, wanting to see Περσης in everyone. She shouldn’t want to see him in Rhei, and yet…

Asteria stood abruptly, her silverware clattering in the bowl. She nodded in farewell at Rhei, disregarding how the mortal suddenly wilted, clearly considering asking her to stay. She’d be better off avoiding him and any other reminders of Περσης.

Asteria’s room, once she found it, was as plain and empty as expected, only a thinly cushioned bed and rickety wooden dresser with a small pile of clothes folded on top occupying the large space. Asteria shivered slightly as a chill hit her. Though it was the middle of summer—perpetually so, if universal time was stopped—the cold stone flooring sapped the warmth out of the threadbare room.

Asteria remembered the luxurious warmth of the bath she’d taken at Delphi, which had soothed sore joints and warmed her after her plunge into Kastallia’s spring—and was exactly what she needed after more time spent traipsing through the desert collecting sand and dust that still clung to her skin. Deciding the dorms should have a bath somewhere, she set off to search for one. She found it eventually, tucked deeper into the building.

It wasn’t like the grand bathhouses of her past—there were no gleaming marble floors, golden mosaics, or the bustle of attendant naiads. She had not bathed alone back then. There had always been servants, others to help unbraid her hair, to pour fragrant oils into the water. It didn’t even compare to the relatively humble baths of Delphi. The walls here were plain, unadorned with the triumphs of titans—they were pale, rough stones glistening with condensation and dimly lit only by the flickering lamps. The tiles beneath her feet were plain, but smooth and warmed by the thick steam which curled around her and caught the glow of the oil lamps.

Truly, it was nothing compared to the luxuries of her past.

But it was quiet. Only the occasional drip of water from the overhanging wooden beams added small chimes to the rhythmic lap of ripples against the edge of the baths. Asteria breathed out deeply, feeling like she could truly relax for the first time since she’d awoken lost and confused in the desert. The grassy tinge of olive oil and fragrance of herbal soaps filled the air, carried aloft on the steam, a soothing scent that calmed her as she waded into the warm water, relishing the heat seeping into her as the water lifted the lingering traces of her long trek. There was a slight minerality, almost sulfurous, filling the air. Asteria would bet it was from the opaque, mineral-rich waters, in their saturated milky teal tones.

Good for the skin, bad for the hair, Asteria reasoned, contemplating the depths of the bath. The warm water lapped at her collarbones as she lowered herself further in, barely tugging at the edges of her newly cropped silver-mauve hair. She shrugged and dipped down, sinking below the surface of the water and allowing the water to muffle sound and cotton over her ears, suspending amidst it as if she was free of gravity. She squeezed her eyes shut and relished the weightlessness; the lack of sound and other stimulation that had been driving her crazy the last few days. Once her lungs could no longer handle it, she rose back through the surface, leaning her head against the back wall of the bath.

She cupped a handful of water and let it trickle over her arms, watching the droplets slide down her skin, vanishing into the ripples of the bath, and tracing patterns in the water. Asteria allowed her mind to drift until her thoughts faded away and the quiet lap of water was all that filled her mind.

Until, at least, the soft creak of the door echoed through the bathhouse. Asteria tilted her head up wearily. Standing in the doorway, framed by the dim lamplight, was Rhei.

He froze. Asteria blinked. His honey-brown eyes flickered up to the ceiling as red flushed up his neck. He wasn’t all too embarrassed. If anything, he looked more resigned than flustered—as if this were yet another unlucky circumstance he had no choice but to roll with.

A beat of perfect silence. Asteria flicked some water toward the boy.

“If I were a goddess, you would be an animal by now.” Asteria pointed out. Only her shoulders were visible, considering how opaque the water was. The long silence continued for a beat—then Rhei spoke as he sheepishly spun on his heels.

“Sorry,” he said, raising his hands in surrender. “I’m not used to living with others.”

“It’s fine,” Asteria responded wryly, closing her eyes once again.

“I’ll be on my way. Be careful not to fall asleep. You seem tired.” His voice was gentle.

Asteria nodded, though he couldn’t see, and shortly after he left, she finished her bath and headed back to her room.

She had barely had the energy to properly dry herself off, simply pulling on a loose tunic and lying on the bed. Her thoughts were tired, too tired to drift toward much else, and her body craved sleep. Asteria lay curled on the thin mattress and closed her eyes.

The sun burned gold and endless, stretched over the horizon as waves lapped gently against the shore. She stood at the edge of the sea, the water cool against her ankles, the sky burning orange and violet. He was there beside her, as he always was.

He pulled off his outer robe, tossing it carelessly to the sand. His diamond-white hair was made messy as the breeze kicked up and blew it into his face. “You’re staring,” he said, his mouth curving into a teasing smirk.

Asteria scoffed, but smirked flirtatiously back with a slow raise of her eyebrows. “Is that so?”

His hands found her waist, a touch so familiar she didn’t think twice before he lifted her off her feet—

She yelped. “Do not—”

She was tumbling, thrown unceremoniously into the shallows. She stumbled into their courtyard, feeling the splash of the fountain at her feet. She stepped out of the shallow pool, his hand helping her out. They stood in a sunlit courtyard, the warm breeze ruffling her tunic, carrying the scent of baked earth and crushed herbs. Then his arms wrapped around her and he laughed—she felt the vibration of it in her chest before she even heard the sound. She turned toward him, catching the outline of his face, sharp but soft in the moment. His lips curled into something loving, something deeper than fondness—she was sure the same expression warmed her own expression.

She turned to him, and as she looked up to his face, he grabbed her hand and spun her away. She twirled to the edge of the balcony, the scent of sea air reaching her from far below. A golden light bathed everything, warm and perfect, as the breeze brushed through her hair. Perses was standing there, arm still outstretched, bathed in the glow of the setting sun. He was younger than she remembered, his hair wind-tousled, loose strands catching the light and sparkling. His golden eyes were bright and his gaze warm. He turned toward her, and when he smiled—Khaos, she had forgotten how his smile looked.

They had stood like this before, watching the sun sink beneath the horizon, the world quiet around them. He had reached for her hand, his fingers brushing against hers, calloused but warm as he intertwined their fingers, and promised her forever, golden eyes full of nothing but love. Their hands weren’t intertwined; she was standing a few steps away, toward the edge of the seaside cliff.

His eyes hadn’t been so soft the last time she’d seen him.

She wanted to reach for him.

She wanted to stay here.

“Asteria,” he said, and there was fondness in his voice, amusement curling at the edges of his lips. The way his lips curved into a smile made her heart flutter, despite the ache lingering beneath the warmth of his gaze. His tunic was loosely draped over one shoulder, exposing the hard lines of muscle beneath. When he turned his head to glance at her, his eyes were bright.

“Do you remember this place?”

Asteria nodded, smiling back at him. “Of course, I do.” It was their home, where they had built a life together.

She felt light, unburdened. She took a step toward him. She wanted to stay.

Then another.

He reached out. His fingers brushed against hers.

“Asteria.”

The balcony cracked beneath her feet, and she stumbled forward, falling. She looked up, but he was gone. She fell, her throat leaping at the sensation. She hit the ground hard, sand digging into her palms, caked into her hair (like after she fell, after she woke up—) as she stood. He stepped back and stared at her, his expression shifting, something odd, something almost angry settling into his posture. His silhouette was drenched with golden sunshine.

The wind stilled, the scent of salt replaced by something thick and metallic. The warmth flickered. It faded.

She reached out, fingers curled, expecting to find his hand, but there was only blood. She was on her knees; her hands were drenched in it, clenched into a puddle of ichor—no, it was a sea; the sea was an ocean of sickeningly warm blood, and she was kneeling in the midst of it.

She looked down.

Red. Gold. Red. Her own blood.

And his hands—those hands had once held hers so gently—were now wrapped around her throat. It wasn’t the sunlight dripping over him anymore.

His hands were covered in her blood.

She gasped, choking—and they were on the balcony again, but the sky was red, red, red and not gold, and she lurched away from him, but the marble cracked beneath her feet, and she tumbled forward into a pit of shadows.

The floor came up too fast. She hit it hard, gasping, her body jerking out of the nightmare itself. She sat up, disoriented, her heart still hammering in her chest. For a moment, she sat still on the floor, fingers curled against the cool stone, her breath unsteady.

Her skin was damp with sweat, her hands trembling against the cold floor.

The room was silent except for the sound of her own breath, uneven and shallow. The oil lamp flickered, casting unsteady shadows along the walls. The warmth of the bath was gone, leaving only the chill of the night air against her skin.

Asteria exhaled sharply, pressing a hand over her face. She tried to slow her breathing. It was a dream. Her breath caught in her throat as she wiped her face, feeling the remnants of the nightmare stick to her skin like cobwebs. Asteria leaned back against her bed as she closed her eyes, exhaustion sinking over her once more. She’d forgotten so much and knew so little. Why couldn’t she leave the memories of Perses behind too?