Daughter of None

13.

Lio

She’s magnificent.

I hoped she didn’t notice the slight tremble in my hand as I held her wrist. I didn’t need to touch her to conceal her. That was a lie I told myself. I just couldn’t let go.

I'd been nursing raw wrists, skin flayed and bones aching from my latest sacrifice to Zeus—one of many. I was still kneeling in the Fates’ chamber when I felt it: a surge, a pulse. The loom of destiny shivered. Threads snapped, tangled, screamed. Every soul’s story began to writhe.

A power had awakened.

And it had to be her.

Not just a ripple—this was a wave, crashing through time itself. It knocked me to the floor, and I wasn’t the only one who felt it. My heart dropped into the pit of my gut, and I ran. I let the shadows consume me, carry me. She was a beacon in my darkness, and I followed like a drowning man.

I arrived at a small, pathetic cabin cloaked in a weak shield—just enough to stall detection, not enough to protect. Castiel was stumbling out the door, eyes wide. He saw me and froze. He knew. We both did.

I didn’t hesitate. I barreled past him, the scent of ozone thick in the air.

Inside, she was kneeling beside Calypso. The infamous Sphinx was unconscious, her golden glow dimmed, and Lex—Lex—was radiating light like a solar flare.

Instinct took over. I didn’t think. I wrapped us both in my shadows.

No one had ever stepped into them but me.

Not once, in all my centuries.

The shadows were my prison, my refuge. Zeus used them to chain me. I used them to survive.

But for her, I opened the door.

And she didn’t scream.

She didn’t flinch.

She looked into the darkness—and she stayed.

I focused on the thrum of her aura brushing against mine, her light curling into my shadows like the sun trying to kiss the moon. My heartbeat was an avalanche, and still, I said nothing. I didn’t want to break the silence that wrapped around us like a secret.

When Castiel finally called, “Clear,” I wanted to stay in that darkness forever. I wanted to live and die in the space where her light met my shadows.

But I let her go.

The shadows receded. The air returned. Her skin cooled beneath my hand, and when she pulled away, I felt colder than I ever had in the Underworld.

“You have some explaining to do,” Castiel said.

I turned slowly to him, taking in his fake composure. The twitch of his jaw betrayed the truth. He was terrified.

Caly lounged on the chaise now, alive and well, her expression a mixture of smugness and mild disappointment.

“Well, if it isn’t Amilios,” she purred. “The last true Titan.”

“And if it isn’t Calypso, Queen of Passive-Aggressive Doom,” I said with a smirk.

“Oh, how I’ve missed our little romps.” She raked her eyes over me, slow and deliberate.

I caught Lex’s subtle glance. Caly. Me. Caly again. Something stirred behind her tired gaze—and I smiled.

I dropped lazily into the seat across from the chaise, my casual posture only fueling Castiel’s frustration. His breathing hitched. His fists clenched.

I waited for the explosion.

Then Lex spoke.

“Cas, I’d like to rest.”

Soft. Gentle. A whisper.

He turned to her like she was the last thing tethering him to this world. His anger melted into concern, and he helped her up the stairs with all the devotion of a mortal fool.

I watched them disappear.

And I hated him for it.

“You finally grew a spine and joined the resistance,” Caly said.

“That’s where you’re wrong.”

She laughed—a cruel, biting sound. “You’re still Zeus’s lapdog. His favorite chew toy. How many times has he drained you dry this year, hm? Ten? Twelve?”

I didn’t answer.

“You know he’s slipping, right?” she snapped. “The earthquakes, the fires, the plague—he’s losing control. And we’re supposed to sit back and let Olympus burn while mortals die by the millions?”

She collapsed into the cushions.

Castiel came back down, rubbing his face. He looked like a man five minutes from collapse.

He sat directly across from me, elbows on knees. “Thank you for hiding her. I don’t know why you did it—but thank you.”

“Do you even know what she is?” I asked. “When’s the last time either of you visited the Fates’ chamber?”

Blank stares.

Of course not.

The Fates’ chamber—the Loom—was sacred. There, threads of every life were spun, woven, and cut. Mortal threads: brown and fragile. Immortal threads: gold and gleaming.

Her thread?

Clear.

Pure.

Invisible.

Untouchable.

“I’ve watched that loom for centuries,” I continued. “It gives me peace. The Fates tolerate me because I don’t bother them. But one day, I saw something... wrong.”

A glimmer. A shimmer. A thread that didn’t belong.

So I touched it.

And I saw her.

Her. Standing in the Parthenon. Power erupting from her like a second sun. Hair whipping in unseen wind. Eyes aflame. Olympus itself cracking at her feet. The gods screaming.

“She is our salvation,” I said.

Caly rolled her eyes. “Power doesn’t make a savior. Not if she can’t wield it.”

“She won’t be wielded like a sword,” I said, rising slowly.

“She’ll be our queen.”

Their silence was loud.

I let a sliver—just a sliver—of my hidden power leak from beneath my skin. The air grew heavy, golden veins glowing briefly beneath my collar.

“I’m not with the rebellion,” I said quietly.

“I am the rebellion.”