Prologue
In every love story, there is a beginning.
There is a place where time and tragedy have not touched, a place that is new and beautiful and shines with hope.
My story is unique in that Cadmus has always been mine, even before we knew it. Our souls were once one, until Zeus split them into two. A bond such as that creates a permanence between two people that cannot be broken, cannot be diminished, cannot be revoked…no matter what the circumstance might be. A bond such as that is real and true. A bond such as that is rare.
And so, because I have been blessed by the gods with this bond, by my grandfather Zeus, by my parents, Aphrodite and Ares, by the universe and all the energies that it contains, I am thankful.
I am thankful to be with my love, because no matter what sadness we have faced in the many lives that we have already lived, we are together now. Cadmus holds me every night until I sleep, whispering into my ear that everything will always be alright because he will make it so. And every night, I believe him.
We watch our beautiful daughter thriving in the Underworld and we relish each moment of our lives, because everything is perfect now. We have fought many battles and have won them in order to get to this point, this place in which we are so happy.
We are together now and Cadmus will walk by my side for all of eternity. I am forever grateful. And today, as I sit in the beautiful gardens of my home watching Cadmus at play with our daughter, I cannot help but think back to a time before everything began.
Every love story has a beginning.
This is mine.
Chapter One
I was quite sure that my home was the most beautiful place in all the world.
The lush green hills of the Spiritlands rolled for miles beyond the gardens of Zeus’ palace. Beyond acres of hills and sculpted gardens, white marble walls framed the grounds of our home, the crown jewel of Olympus. The palace had been designed by Zeus personally and was a shining object of beauty, a place where so many of us called home and lived together in our own particular brand of dysfunction.
My father Ares, who also happened to be the god of war, glistened in the light of the morning sun as he practiced his archery on one of those very hills behind the palace, amidst wildflowers and waving grass.
As I sipped a morning cup of nectar from my balcony railing, I watched as Ares carefully eyed his target and pulled the string of his bow taut, holding it for a moment before he let it fly. It landed on the far edge of the circular bull’s eye.
Ares visibly sighed before stalking to it and ripping it out of the wood. Apparently, close to the mark wasn’t close enough. As he stomped back to where he had been standing, I pushed away from the railing, turning to face Aphrodite, the goddess of love.
“Mother, I do not understand why Zeus will not allow you and father to marry,” I said, brushing away her fluttering hands. “It’s not right.”
As always, my mother was attempting to ‘beautify’ me. She was constantly trying to dress me up, do fancy things with my hair or offer instruction on feminine wiles. She was far more worried about marrying me to a good husband than in being concerned with her own business…the small matter of marrying the love of her life. It was slightly frustrating.
“Harmonia,” she sighed. “We’ve been through this a hundred times. I don’t see why you are so concerned with it. Your father and I love each other. That is the important thing. Zeus will never allow us to marry because he promised Hephaestus that he would never grant Hephaestus and I a divorce. Hephaestus is proud. He does not wish to suffer a divorce.”
“Is it better to suffer the thought that you and Ares are cavorting about beneath his nose for all to see?” I sniffed.
I couldn’t help it. The idea that my own parents could never marry had always bothered me. It shouldn’t, because what my mother said was true. She and my father were wildly, madly in love. Everyone knew it, including my step-father Hephaestus. And a few vows uttered in front of Zeus would never make their bond any more real or concrete than it already was. Their love was legendary.
But still.
“Mother, wouldn’t you feel better being officially married to my father?”
Even to me, my voice had become thin and discouraged because I already knew her answer.
Aphrodite shook her head, her honey-colored hair fluttering in the fragrant Olympus breeze. I could smell the lotus blossoms from here as their scent wafted onto my balcony from the gardens below.
“No. I feel just fine as it is. Wonderful, in fact.”
Aphrodite laughed, a tinkling peal of bells and I marveled as I frequently did, at my mother’s universal appeal. One of her unique traits was in always seeming perfect and charming to the person whom she was with. Anyone who interacted with my mother saw her as their own personal idea of the most beautiful, alluring woman possible. It was one of her greatest gifts. She had practically leveled kingdoms with it.
She turned back to watch my father and waited for him to release his next arrow. It left the bow in a straight line that embedded directly in the center of the target. Ares let out a triumphant crow and turned to Apollo, the god who stood next to him.
Apollo’s great shoulders slumped and it appeared from here that he had just lost a challenge. It was slightly unheard of. Apollo didn’t lose. But then again, neither did my father. It was always a treat to see the two go head to head in any sort of competition. It was guaranteed to be colorful, at the very least.
My mother waggled her fingers at Ares from my balcony and he bowed low in an exaggerated bow. Aphrodite blew him a kiss and Ares beamed from ear to ear, lighting up his face. Both of my parents were beautiful.
Ares was large and strong with dark hair, tanned skin and dark eyes. He was the only Olympian besides Apollo and Hades whose eyes were not silver. Apollo’s eyes were usually silver, but they could turn gold, depending on his mood. Both Hades and Ares had eyes that remained dark, almost black, at all times.
Ares’ muscled frame was tall, his attitude fierce, but he was also fiercely loyal to those close to him. It was a deadly mistake to trifle with anyone who he loved.
Aphrodite was his polar opposite. Slender and slight, her dark blonde hair brushed her shoulders. Her eyes were the traditional Olympian silver, her skin fair and perfect. She was beautiful at all times, night or day and was prone to dramatic statements and gestures. As the goddess of peace, I had fallen in the middle of my parents’ two extremes.
I turned to wave to my father, as well. He grinned cockily and gestured toward his winning arrow, which was still embedded in the target, in an effort to make certain that I saw it.