Chapter Text
“—it was insane! Really! The entire summit was covered in snow!”
Matthew listens, attentive, as Gunwook recounts the fight with Enceladus. The rainbow screen of the Iris-message doesn’t quite get the animated motions of his hands into full view, and sometimes they move so fast Matthew can only see blurs. He leans his arms on the guard rail of the bridge, Gunwook’s voice carrying well above the river’s current.
“He was completely frozen,” Gunwook says. “And then…I don’t know what happened. The coin Jongwoo gave me started burning in my pocket so I took it out, and it was glowing really brightly, and then I swear I saw a silhouette…and then when I could see again, Enceladus was just a pile of ice shards.”
“So…he died?” His head spins in disbelief. “Does that mean…a god helped you? That coin…”
Gunwook’s brow furrows in concentration. A second later, he’s holding something up in view: a silver coin. An owl and olive branch on one side. And on the other…
“‘The Mark of Athena,’” Matthew reads slowly. “You said Jongwoo gave it to you?”
“Yeah. I still don’t know why. Jongwoo hasn’t woken up ever since we left the mountain. Gyuvin and I have been taking turns carrying him.”
“Not Ricky?”
He says it jokingly, but Gunwook’s answer surprises him. “Ricky’s not with us. He went back to Camp Jupiter.” Then, at Matthew’s evident shock, “He knew he wouldn’t get back in time to help with the battle…but he said he still had to go. And, well, who were we to stop him from going home?”
“So he’ll be here soon, then?” It might take a while for Ricky to be able to travel across the country…but, then again, he is a child of a messenger goddess…
Gunwook nods, then looks behind himself quickly. Matthew can’t tell where he is based on his surroundings. “We’re almost back to camp. Hopefully Chiron and the other healers can help Jongwoo.”
“I hope so, too.”
That coin…what exactly is it? Is it really powerful enough to summon a god, even though Olympus is closed? But then, why did Jongwoo have it? And why didn’t he use it himself to fight off Enceladus?
“Will you be back soon, too?” Gunwook asks. “I miss you.”
It’s been a while since he’s smiled genuinely, but the warmth of Gunwook’s words manages to bring one to his face. “I miss you, too. Honestly, I don’t know. I’m sure the Romans want us gone, but there’s still a lot to do…and I don’t know if Hanbin…”
“Hanbin?” His eyes widen. “Is he okay?”
The battle yesterday, thankfully, ended with no losses. Matthew isn’t sure if that was because of sheer luck, or because of Thanatos deciding to turn a blind eye…but even then, maybe it would be more accurate to say, the battle ended with no losses yet. Even with the healers working overtime, and Matthew doing his best to help despite his lackluster healing skills, there are still a few people in critical condition. Namely…
“He’ll be okay,” Matthew answers, and does his best to sound confident. “The water healed his ribs. I think he’s mainly just exhausted—he pushed himself too hard, with…whatever stunt he pulled. He and Hao…”
He trails off, at the sound of approaching footsteps. When he turns to the west, someone is standing at the other end of the bridge. He’s not wearing armor today, but the centurion badge pinned to his purple shirt and the double sheaths at his belt make his identity unmistakable.
“I should go,” Matthew tells Gunwook. “Stay safe. I’ll call you later.”
“You better.” Gunwook looks reluctant to say goodbye, but he waves. “See you soon!”
The call ends, and with a final shimmer, the rainbow light fades, just as Keita reaches his side.
“What’s wrong?” Matthew asks, straightening his posture. “Do they need me back at the infirmary?”
Keita snorts. “You’ve done enough work for us already. Don’t sweat it. For someone who insists he’s not a healer, you sure have helped a lot.”
Matthew waves him off with what he hopes is a lighthearted laugh. No matter what he or anyone else says…Matthew knows he’s no healer. He doesn’t deserve to be called one.
You wouldn’t say that if you knew, he doesn’t say to Keita. He looks down at his hands, and remembers the blood that stains them, of all the people he couldn’t save. No good comes when I’m left as the healer.
“How are your friends?” Keita asks, leaning an elbow on the railing. His arm is bandaged, right above where his SPQR tattoo is. Matthew had treated his wound just yesterday. “I assume you were just with them, before coming here?”
“Taerae’s okay. He was talking to a bunch of…ghosts? They wouldn’t talk to me, but they were fine with him.”
“The Lares?” Keita’s eyebrows shoot up. He almost seems impressed. “It’s rare for them to warm up to anyone. Especially a Greek.”
“He’s good at changing people’s minds.” Understatement of the century, of course. But Matthew doubts he should go about revealing Taerae’s secrets, even to someone as nice as Keita. “And Hanbin…he’s awake. But you knew that.”
“I heard.” His lips quirk. “So, still the same, then?”
It had been quite an experience, to reach the base of the aqueduct, only to see the remains of a giant and the praetor of Camp Jupiter looking seconds away from joining him. Hanbin had been clinging onto him, delirious and barely conscious, begging Hao to wake up with tears running down his face. He passed out soon after the healers took Hao, and when he woke up again, he’d startled the healer looking over him by trying to break out of the infirmary, demanding to see Hao. Needless to say…it caused quite a stir.
“Seokmae,” he’d begged as soon as he saw Matthew, so clearly disoriented and worried sick. The trip to the Little Tiber earlier and an hour of rest managed to heal his ribs, but the toll of elemental exhaustion was still distinguishable in how his voice shook. “Please, please tell me where he is, tell me he’s okay…”
“He’s in his own house,” Matthew said, rubbing his hands down Hanbin’s arms in an attempt to soothe him. “The healers thought it would be better to keep him somewhere private. You’re still hurt, Bin, you need rest—”
“Don’t keep me away from him,” he sobbed, falling to his knees, and Matthew’s heart fell with him. “Not again, please, I—I can’t rest until I see him, please…”
“It’s fine.” Matthew had looked up, startled, to see one of the other healers—a girl with blond hair tied in a high ponytail. “I’ll take him there.”
“Belle, what are you doing?!” another healer had said, incredulous. “He—I know he’s done a lot, but are you sure we can just let him into the praetor’s house? We can’t just let outsiders in, especially with the praetor’s condition the way it is—”
“He saved my life,” the girl said, crossing her arms. “He saved our whole camp. I’ll bear whatever consequences there may be. But until then, he can stay with Hao. If it helps him, it’s worth it, isn’t it?”
Matthew closes his eyes at the memory. It’s still painful. Hanbin, begging him… it was wrong. It was so incredibly wrong. He’s seen Hanbin that desperate before, but never like this. Never at him.
He knows how Hanbin gets whenever someone he cares about is hurt. He’d hoped, after the war, that he’d never have to see him that way again.
“He was sleeping the last time I checked,” Matthew says now, turning back towards the river. “Hao is still out, too. His condition is still pretty touch-and-go. The healers are still trying to figure out why he’s recovering so slowly…”
“…I see.” Keita sighs. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Keita turn so his back is against the railing. “So our praetors are still down for the count.”
“Whoa—hold on.” Matthew spins to face him, surprised. “Praetors, plural? What happened to Kuanjui?”
Keita stiffens, then swears under his breath. “Sorry. I thought you knew already. I’m not supposed to tell anyone who doesn’t—”
“Is he hurt?”
A pause. Keita’s gaze, as he meets Matthew’s eyes, is heavy and troubled. Finally, he just lets out a short exhale. “Yeah. But keep it a secret. We don’t want to stir up any fear, especially after such a serious battle.”
“So it’s bad, then.” Matthew’s hand tightens and untightens around the railing. He’d seen Kuanjui for most of the battle, and he’d been fine. More than fine—he was such a strong fighter that the monsters could barely even land a scratch on him. What could’ve gotten to him?
“Kuanjui’s stable, from what I’ve heard,” Keita says. “So there’s no need to worry. But until he’s back on his feet, the praetor duties still have to be taken care of. Some of them are left to me and Yurina, the other First Cohort centurion, but the rest…the rest have fallen to the augur.”
“The augur? Have I met them?”
“Ha. Hopefully you won’t have to.”
Matthew frowns at that, but Keita’s already moving on before he can think about it any further.
“Once the praetors are back, the senate will probably call for a meeting.” Keita brushes his hair back, head tilted up in thought. “To decide the fate of you and your friends.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Matthew holds up both hands. “That sounds ominous.”
He shoots him a sidelong grin. “Relax. It won’t be bad. No one can deny how much you’ve all helped us.”
“But I didn’t do much,” he says, frowning. “Honestly…I don’t know why Juno sent us to you guys. I doubt us being here made much of a difference. It was Hanbin and Hao that saved you.”
“What happened to you, that makes you so hesitant to take credit?”
Matthew blinks at that. For some reason, the question makes his mouth feel frozen shut. Keita turns to face him fully, and his easy going gaze from before has sharpened into something far more intense. Analytical.
“I see it in the way you fight.” Keita taps his tattoo, where the two crossed spears stand out starkly against his forearm. “You have an interesting fighting style, did you know? And not just for being an Apollo kid that prefers a sword. You fight like you want to take charge, but as soon as there’s someone else around you that you consider a leader, you back down. You let yourself become their backup. Why don’t you see yourself as equal to them, with skills like yours?”
The crossed spears. Its meaning occurs to him, somewhat uselessly, rising past the shock ringing in his mind. The symbol of Ares. Mars? Do all children of Mars have this kind of ability? Did Jiwoong…?
“Something happened, right?” Keita’s voice isn’t very loud, but to Matthew it’s deafening. “Maybe a long time ago…no, more recent. Maybe on your quest? Is it related to the third person on your quest that—”
“Stop,” Matthew snaps, shaking. “Stop, stop it.”
Keita goes silent. Matthew tries to breathe, but it feels like something is squeezing his windpipe thinner and thinner, and his oxygen struggles to flow like sludge through straw. His vision is going blurry, and his face feels too hot, his skin too tight, his heart squeezing—
“I tried so hard.” Maybe he says it out loud. Maybe he doesn’t. He isn’t sure anymore. “I tried to lead our quest, I tried to prove myself to him, I wanted to show him—that—that I was capable, that I wouldn’t drag him down, I tried—”
“Matthew.” Keita sounds worried now. “Deep breaths. I’m sorry for pushing you, you don’t have to explain yourself or anything, just breathe, okay? Just breathe.”
Matthew swallows hard. He can feel the rigid railing digging into the middle of his back. He lifts a hand to his face, and it comes away wet. Sniffling, he wipes the tears away, doing his best to remember how to breathe again.
“Sorry,” he whispers, cheeks heating in embarrassment. This is a new low for him, breaking down in front of a near-stranger. And he’s had a lot of lows. “I didn’t mean to…I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. It’s my fault.”
Keita’s holding something out to him. A packet of tissues. Matthew takes one, muttering a sheepish thanks, and presses it to his eyes.
“It’s been weighing on you for a while, hasn’t it?” he hears Keita say, as he dries the last of his tears. “I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Keita is…a lot kinder than he’d ever imagined. Matthew shakes his head, crumpling the tissue up in a fist.
“Jiwoong didn’t want me on the quest,” he mutters, keeping his eyes trained on the ground. The tip of his sneaker scuffs against stone. “I’ve gone on a lot of quests, but…I’ve never led one. I’ve always been second. My combat skills, my powers, they’re never the best. They’re always second. I know that. But the fact that Jiwoong felt that way, too…it hurt. So I decided I’d prove to myself, and to him, that I can lead. I wanted him to trust me. Like…like I trust him.”
His eyes sting, threatening to tear up again. He blinks the feeling away quickly.
“But in the end…he was right. I was wrong. I shouldn’t have gone on the quest.” Pain pierces through his heart. “He got taken. And it’s my fault.”
The Wolf House. Khione. Jiwoong, yelling his name, getting caught in the frost, vanishing in a flurry of snow. Gone.
The redeemed are lost, as death unleashes through waves of frost.
Stupid. He knew, he knew it was about Jiwoong, and he still couldn’t do anything to save him. In the end, he’d just played right into fate’s hands, and failed the one person he wanted to win over the most. Some kind of leader he was.
He sighs, leaning his head back, feeling drained. The sun has never been too glaring for his eyes. Its rays are warm on his face. A stark contrast to the icy pit hollowing out the bottom of his chest. Every time he remembers Jiwoong’s last words to him, the iciness grows, bit by bit. It hurts. He…he doesn’t want to admit it. But it hurts so much.
“Matthew.”
He can still feel Keita’s presence nearby. Keita hasn’t reached out to touch him, which he’s endlessly thankful for, but his presence alone is steady. Comforting, almost.
“Whether or not it was your fault…I can’t say. I wasn’t there. But the past won’t hold any answers for you. It’s something a lot of people here still don’t understand. You can’t move on if you’re always looking behind.”
They’re facing each other fully now. Keita’s lips are set in a solemn line, but the sparking fire in his eyes has mellowed into something akin to a warm hearth.
“When the senate calls their next meeting, they’ll want to know what you’ll do next,” he says. “Maybe your friends have other goals. Go home. Start another quest. Kill a giant. But what would you answer?”
The question catches him off guard. “Me?”
“There’s nothing we can do to change the past. But there’s always something we can do to prepare for the future. Do you see? It’s not about what happened. It’s about what you’ll do next.”
What he’ll do next…
Matthew takes a deep breath. His shoulders untense, the remnants of the despair that had such a chokehold around him finally loosening.
Keita’s right. Jiwoong is gone. But that just means…
“I’m going to get him back,” he declares. Keita’s proud smile is the last push he needs for his conviction to settle. “I won’t fail him again. I’ll get him back no matter what.”
“What…is this place?”
Laughter, deep and low, echoes along the earthen walls. There’s not a single mote of light, not a single inch of visibility—here, there is nothing but darkness.
“Foolish child…did you really think I would let you go so easily?”
Etched into the floor is an all too familiar smile.
“No. No, let me out, stay away from me—”
“I still have use for you yet.”
The laughter grows, ever louder, drowning out the terrified screams from deeper within.
“You can’t stay here forever, Hanbin.”
Hanbin says nothing to that. His hands absentmindedly stroke over Hao’s forearm, fiddling with the bracelet, massaging his palm. From the other side of the bed, Taerae just sighs.
“Hanbin. You’re still hurt. You need rest. In a real bed. Don’t try to deny it—I know you slept in that chair overnight.” Then, warningly, “Don’t make me… convince you otherwise.”
“Taerae.” Hanbin lifts his head, and is immediately pinned with angry dark eyes. Gods above, sometimes he thinks Taerae is the scariest person he’s ever met. “You know I can’t leave him.”
Taerae gives him a no-nonsense look, although Hanbin can see in the set of his brow that he’s softened somewhat. “He wouldn’t want to see you like this.”
“He would do the same for me.” Then, “You’re not hurt, right? You’re fine?”
“Yes. Really, I’m the last person you should be worrying about. But yes.”
Taerae’s footsteps are muffled by Hao’s carpet as he rounds the bed. Hanbin doesn’t lift his head more, too tired to do so, but he relaxes at Taerae’s hand resting on his back.
“Try to remember to walk around, at least. Or sleep on the couch or something. And if I don’t see you getting lunch later, I really will drag you out here myself.”
“Okay.” Hanbin smiles, recognizing Taerae’s care past the blunt edges. “Thanks, Taerae.”
A light swat to the back of his head. “I’m going now.”
Taerae walks away. The door clicks shut behind him. Hanbin sighs, the rest of the room falling into silence, with nothing except Hao’s faint breathing to break it.
Again, probably for the thousandth time today, he finds himself studying Hao’s face. It’s something he loves to do, his eyes always craving to drink in his image, but it’s harder when Hao is like this. Pale, emotionless…still. Hanbin reaches out, brushing his thumb over Hao’s cheekbone, tracing a finger over his brow, resting a palm over his jaw. Hao, normally so responsive to his touch, remains unmoving. His skin is cold.
Belle had said Hao’s coma was lasting longer than expected. The healers had yet to figure out why—all they knew was that he wasn’t getting any worse. But, at least, his wound is almost completely healed.
“It’s interesting,” she’d said, while reapplying the wet compress to Hanbin’s chest. “His wound, and the place where Alcyoneus struck you…it’s the same place. A weird coincidence, isn’t it?”
Hanbin lowers his hand from Hao’s face, moving it back to where his other hand is still entangled with Hao’s. He lowers his head, pillowing his cheek on his forearms. His chest throbs, right where the pain was worst. He would’ve wished for Alcyoneus to strike him twice there, if it meant Hao wouldn’t have to face it at all.
And he would’ve bled himself dry thrice over if it meant letting Yujin live.
Yujin…
Hanbin closes his eyes, barring away the tears that threaten to well. There was too much to process. Too much to do. Too much to bear. His only thread of hope is what Thanatos said, of Yujin’s soul not being with him. He must be alive. He must be. Because Hanbin doesn’t know what he’ll do if he isn’t.
I told you I wanted to live with both of you. But I already knew it wasn’t possible.
…
He inhales, deeply, until his lungs are straining against his ribcage, and lets the breath out slowly, lets the pain distract him. It’s always been difficult for him, sitting still like this. Yesterday was exhausting, a relentless pace of battle after battle, revelation after revelation, loss after loss, but at least then he didn’t have the time to think about anything for too long. Not like now. Where there’s nothing except a reminder of what he failed to do.
The moments after fighting Polybotes are still murky to him. He remembers Hao collapsing, and trying to wake him up, before exhaustion claimed him, too. He remembers waking up somewhere unfamiliar, alone, with Hao nowhere in sight, and only being able to feel panic. He remembers Matthew trying to calm him, and Belle taking him here, and finally finally seeing Hao, unconscious and barely alive.
It was…so much. If he lets his guard down too long, his mind is invaded with the nightmare of yesterday. Of Yujin slicing his own arm. Of Hao stabbed through the chest. And then, if he fails to push them away, he’s reminded of more, of Hao nearly getting killed by the Nemean lion, nearly dying in his arms the first time they reunited, really dying in all his dreams—
Hanbin shudders, tamping everything down again. There’s nothing to do but think and wait, but Hanbin has long since grown used to locking his feelings away. It was the only way he could cope with surviving the past four years. It was the only way he could keep going. This…is nothing new.
He breathes, and tries very hard not to break.
Time ticks by, unknown and meaningless. Hanbin watches the light outside the window fade into darkness. Taerae, at some point, really does come by again to take him to lunch, even enlisting a healer to watch over Hao while he’s gone so he has no excuse, but besides that, nothing else of note happens. When his eyelids begin weighing heavy, he lets them shut, and slips into a light, fitful slumber, a haze of semi-conscious thoughts and strange images.
It’s disorienting, even less restful than being awake—they blur together, to the point he can’t tell what’s real and what isn’t. Gryphons attacking. The end of Hubbard Glacier collapsing. Yujin caged in earth and darkness. A giant bronze ship sailing through the skies. Gaea’s low laugh as his lungs empty of air.
“—has to be me—”
“I want to live. With both of you.”
“—won’t leave as three—”
“—kill giants without gods—”
“Trapped. Forever.”
“You know what we have to do.”
“I’m sorry, Hanbin.”
“It’s the only way.”
Hanbin shakes himself awake, rubbing at his eyes. His whole body feels sore, and his mouth feels like cotton. The room spins as his foggy head attempts to refocus. He pushes himself up with a wince, straightening in his seat. His thumb runs across Hao’s knuckles out of habit. And then he freezes, as something tugs against his bracelet.
His head snaps up.
“Hi,” Hao breathes, a weak smile growing on his lips, dim eyes roving over Hanbin’s features with unbearable relief. “This is a familiar sight, isn’t it?”
Hanbin can’t move. He stares, unable to process anything except Hao’s visage, his hair fanned out on the pillow, his skin flushing with slightly more color than the sheets below him, his hand fiddling with Hanbin’s bracelet. Awake. He’s awake.
“Don’t…” Hanbin sniffles, choking back a sob. “Don’t joke about that.”
“Sorry.” Hao lifts their intertwined hands, closer to Hanbin’s face, and Hanbin is quick to help him guide it there. It’s only when Hao moves to brush at his cheek that he realizes he already started crying. “I’m okay. I’m sorry for worrying you.”
Hanbin wants to hug him so desperately, every inch of his skin craving for contact with Hao, but he doesn’t dare risk making Hao’s injury worse. So he stays where he is, and clutches Hao’s arm, and presses his lips into Hao’s palm. With reverence. With relief.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” he whispers, tears still spilling down. “I’m…so glad…”
“You’re okay too, right?” Hao’s tone, still quiet, has taken on an edge of worry. “Did you let the healers look at you? Don’t tell me you’ve been here the whole time.”
Hanbin bites his lip, wiping the last of his tears away. “Hao—”
“How long has it been?”
“The…the battle was yesterday, maybe two days ago, I don’t know what time it is—”
“So you stayed here overnight? Hanbin, you need rest, too—”
“How can you expect me to leave you, Hao?” he bursts out. “After—after everything that’s happened?!”
Hao’s expression pinches. Something scatters, fragmented, across it—something pained and sad.
“Later,” he acquiesces, squeezing Hanbin’s hand so feebly he almost doesn’t feel it. “I’m fine now. So you can get some proper rest later, okay?”
The tight coil searing around his chest dissipates. He lets out a breath, lowering Hao’s hand back down without letting go.
“Okay,” he agrees quietly, eyes flicking up to take in Hao’s face. “You still look pretty tired. You…you can go back to sleep, if you need to.”
“Later,” Hao says again. He blinks, squeezing Hanbin’s hand once more. “Just…let me look at you for a while.”
Hanbin melts, heart unable to handle the raw sentiment in Hao’s words. “Sure,” he says, his smile probably a little too sappy, a little too watery. “What…whatever you want, angel.”
“Mm.” Hao seems amused at that. It’s the best thing in the world, seeing him smile again. “I don’t know if angels are real.”
They must be, Hanbin thinks, scooting his chair as close as it will go, holding onto him as tightly as he can without causing pain. I’ve already met one.
He can understand. After everything they’ve been through, with their quest finally over, and the race of time finally not so pressuring, this is really the first time they can both just…stop. Take in the fact that they’re both okay. They both made it. They’re still together. Now that Hao is awake, it’s like his heart, clenched into a tight fist, has unraveled, and all his feelings overflow and spill through the cracks.
Hao is alive, so he is, too.
He brushes Hao’s bangs from his forehead, slow and careful. Hao hums, contentment returning the color to his complexion as they lose themselves in each other’s eyes. He tilts his chin up, lips pursing in a silent request, and Hanbin bends down to kiss him with a smile. It feels like his very soul is being mended, piece by piece, as Hao’s lips move against his, as Hao’s warmth seeps into him.
Their kiss stays light and sweet, nothing too taxing, given how exhausted they both are. Just for the sake of contact, of being close, of being together. Hanbin parts from him reluctantly, instead resting their foreheads together, still lightheaded with relief.
And yet, despite this, despite the confirmation that his first loved one is still with him…he can’t help but think of the one that isn’t.
“What are you thinking about?” Hao murmurs, a shaky hand coming to cradle his jaw. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”
Hao had said something like this the first time they were here, too. Only less than a week ago, but to Hanbin it feels like a lifetime has passed. Back then, Hanbin had been too scared to open up, even to the one he loves most. Too uncertain after reminders of a past he wasn’t part of, too scared of a future he couldn’t control.
But…Hao is here. Hao is here. It’s not like the past four years anymore, when he couldn’t let anyone know of his grief, couldn’t show any weakness as their hero. Hao told him to believe in them. And Hanbin…isn’t afraid anymore. Who else would he ever let himself break in front of, if not Hao?
“Cassandra told me something,” he says. “She said we’d enter Hubbard Glacier as three. But we wouldn’t leave as three.”
Hao is tense, clearly unhappy at the mention of her name—the reminder of what Hanbin went through to get information from her. Hanbin rubs his shoulder before continuing.
“Hao…about what Thanatos said. About Yujin.” He hesitates. Part of him is afraid of the answer he’ll get. “Is he…really okay? Or did he…”
He trails off. Waits for Hao’s answer. His heartbeat thrums, too fast, like a hummingbird’s wings.
And Hao meets his gaze resolutely.
“He’s alive,” Hao says. “I made sure of it.”
Hanbin jerks back. “You…made sure of it?”
A wry, crooked smile, this time. “Are my old clothes here? You can check the pockets.”
Hanbin spots them, folded up on top of a nearby dresser. He doesn’t want to separate from Hao, not now, even these few feet, but with an encouraging nod from Hao, he goes. Hao’s jeans are dirtied and faded from travel, still not washed. Hanbin does as told, checking the pockets, and the tips of his fingers brush against clay.
His eyes widen.
The gorgon’s blood. He pulls out the vial, staring at where it rests in his palm. But…why is there only one? Where did the other…
“One kills,” Hao says. His voice doesn’t raise much, but with how quiet the room is and how attuned he is to Hao’s voice, he can hear him just fine. “The other can heal anything. Even something like—”
“Blood loss,” Hanbin finishes, looking back at him. He’s so dumbfounded the flask almost falls from his grip. His heart, impossibly, speeds up to twice the pace, this time from a dangerous hope. “Hao…that’s…” He swallows. “How did you even know which one was which?”
“I didn’t know. But Yujin did.” Hao beckons for him to come back, so he does, leaving the flask on the dresser. “He might not even have realized it, but he handled the flasks differently. The one you were holding, he was always more wary of. I marked them to keep track.”
Hanbin settles in his seat again, still in awe. Every time he thinks he can’t get more impressed by Hao, Hao just one-ups himself. “So he’s really okay?”
“I don’t know where he went, honestly,” Hao admits. “I…honestly don’t know if it worked. I have no way to tell, besides what Thanatos said. But even if he disappeared…he’ll come back to us. I know he will.”
“And…if he doesn’t?”
“Then we go find him,” he says simply. Like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “No matter what…we’ll be with him again. What he wants…we’ll make come true.”
Hao’s eyes grow distant, drifting to the ceiling. The dim light reflects in them, like stars in the night. His hand moves to rest over his heart. Where his wound is.
“The thing about fighting fate,” he begins, hushed, like the unraveling of a secret, “is that…it’s not impossible. It just requires balance. Any change you fight for…it’ll always come with a cost.” A long-drawn breath. “So I’ve learned, if you think about it like that…you can be more intentional. You can incur the cost on yourself, and the balance will come.”
Hao’s words ring with…something ominous. There’s a harrowing gravity to them, that chills Hanbin to the core. When he tries to speak, his mouth is dry.
“What…do you mean?”
“Our reunion. I had to nearly give up my life, as the price for finding you when the gods didn’t want me to. Pulling that risky stunt with the storm spirits, to lessen the risk on the actual glacier. Things like that. It has to be the right kind of bargain, but…there’s a push and pull. If it’s intentional, you can influence the direction your future will go. You can manipulate fate.”
Intentional… Hanbin is left reeling. Surely Hao isn’t saying…he purposefully risked his life, that day on Half-Blood Hill, as a “cost” to see Hanbin?
“It’s what Thanatos meant, when he said I was playing a dangerous game,” Hao says. “I used the gorgon’s blood to my advantage. It means…the gorgon’s blood will be used against me, too. Maybe there will be a time where that other flask is used on me. Maybe there will be a time where I can only be healed by gorgon’s blood, and I won’t have it, because I made the choice to give it to Yujin.” That wry smile again. Hanbin is beginning to dread it. “A significant change…means a significant cost.”
This…Hanbin shakes his head. His hands are beginning to tremble. He’s known, for a long time, that everything comes with a cost—that’s an idea he wishes he were less familiar with. But, for it to be applied like this? To accept it, weaponize it, all at the cost of…
Gods above. How long has Hao been living by this principle? How much has he given up?
“Sorry. I shouldn’t speak like that, right?”
Hao holds his hand palm-up. Hanbin, instinctively, takes it, only to startle at Hao tugging him closer.
“Come here.”
“‘Here’? Wh—the bed?!”
A pout. “You’ve slept here before.”
“You’re still recovering—”
“We both are. It’s fine. Sleeping on a bed has to be better for you than that chair, anyway.” The pout deepens. “Please?”
With a sigh (Hanbin has always been terrible at saying no to Hao), he moves to the bed, climbing under the covers. Hao nestles into him immediately, nosing along his jawline before nuzzling into the crook of his neck. Hanbin’s heart squeezes. He can’t move much, cautious about jostling Hao too greatly, but he can still entwine Hao’s fingers in his own, can still kiss the crown of his head with ease.
Hao yawns, stifling it on Hanbin’s shoulder. His breathing is already beginning to even out.
“Hao,” he murmurs, careful not to be too loud. “Those costs…don’t bear them alone anymore.”
Hao’s answering hum is slightly muffled, tinged with confusion.
“I’ll bear them with you,” Hanbin continues. “Whatever it is, we face it together. Promise me.”
Too desperate to be a demand, more of a plea than anything. In the room’s tranquil, their hearts beat as one.
“Together,” Hao says finally, sleepy and warm. Hanbin feels the light kiss he presses to his neck. “I promise.”
“…Thank you.”
They lapse into comfortable silence, curled into each other. It’s here, and only here, that Hanbin feels at peace. It’s only here that Hanbin feels like it’s really over. At least for now.
He loses himself in thought, of what fate has yet to bring…and what Hao may do to face it.
“Still not cracking?”
A spit of crimson, splattering on the ground. “Fuck you.”
“Ooh, testy.” A light chuckle, and a rustle of chains. “But I’m not worried. I know you’ll agree eventually.”
Footsteps, clicking on polished wood. Whispers, breathy and menacing. Two starlike eyes, gleaming like twin flames.
“Once a traitor, always a traitor.”
“Are you sure you should be walking around?”
“Of course,” Hao reassures a dubious-looking Matthew. “It’s not my legs that were injured, you know.”
“Still…”
“I can’t stay in my room forever. I have things to take care of.”
Matthew’s focus shifts to Hanbin, who’s at Hao’s side, supporting his weight with an arm around his waist. “And you’re okay with this?”
Hanbin smiles, probably an attempt to reassure, although Hao can catch the hesitance even at this angle. “Don’t worry. I’ll know if he needs a break. And he’s not allowed to stop me from giving him one.”
Hao wrinkles his nose. “‘Not allowed’? Or what? Are you going to make me?”
“Do not answer that question,” Taerae says from up ahead, not even turning around. “I don’t care who my mom is. If I have to hear one more second of flirty banter, I’m going to stab someone.”
Hanbin protests, saying something about how he wasn’t flirting, and Taerae says something like “You wouldn’t know flirting if it shoved you off the lava wall,” and Hao tries his best not to laugh. He tightens his arm where it lies around Hanbin’s shoulders, and hopes he doesn’t sound as breathless as he is.
The truth is…he feels awful. He and Hanbin fell asleep at some point, and when they woke up the sun was already high in the sky. Hanbin, at least, seems to be fully reenergized, and got cleared by the healers, but Hao…
“I’m sorry, we’re still not sure what’s wrong,” Belle said to him in private. “Even the augur didn’t detect anything amiss…you should be healing a lot faster. We’re doing all we can, please believe us—”
…
The setting sun, partially hidden by the clouds blanketing the sky, is still too dizzyingly bright for him. He isn’t in any pain, not now, but everything feels ten times more difficult than it should, to the point that even this slow walk with their friends along the Little Tiber is a struggle. Were it not for Hanbin, steadying him with never-ending patience, he thinks he would’ve fallen apart.
You play a dangerous game, Hao Zhang.
Even under the sun’s rays, enveloped in Hanbin’s warmth…he feels cold.
They sit, finally, in a picturesque valley just past the river’s shore. Nearby, the Field of Mars is already being reconstructed again, most of the wreckage from the battle already cleaned up. Beyond that, the aqueduct, too, is also under repair. On the opposite side of the river, Hao can see the entrance from the Caldecott Tunnel, still standing strong.
As much as Hao wishes he could show the others around—take them to his favorite view in New Rome, buy them his favorite drinks, extend to them the same hospitality they’ve offered him in Camp Jupiter—he knows he can’t. There’s too much up in the air, after the battle. Too much that has changed. The legion will want answers…and it’s up to Hao to bring it all together, and keep the barely recovered camp from falling apart in discord.
“Everyone,” he says, calling their attention to him. He keeps an ear out, but he doesn’t have to worry for eavesdroppers—at this time of day, no one frequents this area. The construction going on in the Field of Mars will obscure their conversation anyway. “Thank you again, for fighting with us.” He bows his head to Matthew and Taerae, and leans closer into Hanbin, who still has him in his embrace. “I can’t thank you enough.”
“Don’t be so formal,” Matthew complains. His ears have taken on a vibrant shade of red, which seems to highly amuse Hanbin. “It’s embarrassing.”
“I guess we can’t continue this conversation,” Taerae says with an over-dramatic sigh. “He’s too embarrassed, surely you understand.”
“Should we all go home?”
“Hanbin!” Matthew protests. “Not you, too!”
“The senate will probably call for a meeting soon,” Hao says, already used to their antics. “The battle…it’s a confirmation that the Prophecy of Nine really is underway. The rise of the giants. And the rise of Gaea.” They sober quickly at that. Hao continues, “We’ll need to decide where we stand with you. Officially. And…what to do next.”
“What do you mean, where you stand with us?” Taerae asks. “We have to fight together. Greeks and Romans as one. It’s what Hera said, too.”
“I know that,” Hao responds. “And you know that. But the rift between Greeks and Romans…it runs deeper than us. Even Kuanjui and I don’t fully understand it. It may not be so simple as us agreeing to work together.”
“Ah…you mean about how the gods could split.” At this, Taerae nods, frowning. “It’s a problem, for sure. If we want to defeat the giants, we’ll need their help. If they’re afraid of their forms clashing and splitting…we need to figure out how to prevent it. Or, if it comes to it…how to resolve it.”
Matthew runs a hand through his hair. His expression is a troubled one. “Didn’t you and Hanbin kill two giants without gods, though? I know Alcyoneus was a special case, but Polybotes…”
At this, he and Hanbin exchange glances. Hao gets distracted, momentarily, by how his irises glimmer in the light. Like gemstones.
“Honestly,” Hao says, “it was a gamble. There’s a legend, but we don’t know if it’s true. We hardly know what it means. And even with Polybotes…we were using the golden eagle, which was a gift from Jupiter. It’s possible there still was some kind of divine intervention…”
“Didn’t you say Gunwook did something like that, too?” Taerae asks Matthew. “With Enceladus? Summoning a god through an object?”
“Yeah, but…I don't know. He seemed pretty convinced Athena herself was there, but with you guys…” He trails off, then shakes his head. “Well, whatever. If we assume we do need to help the gods…how can we? Like, if they aren’t able to fix it, what are we supposed to do? They won’t even talk to us.”
Hanbin shifts slightly. “The fourth line in the prophecy. ‘The key to peace, as one they must wrest.’ I had no idea what it meant before, but…by ‘peace,’ does it mean peace between the Greeks and Romans?”
“A key?”
It’s Matthew and Taerae’s turn to exchange a look this time. Hao studies them, amidst their silent exchange. On the way here, they’d all taken the time to exchange stories, and Hao’s heart had panged upon hearing what happened to Jiwoong. It’s clear, even now, that it affected them deeply. Matthew, who always lit up any space he was in, hasn’t shown a real smile ever since Hao’s seen him again.
“We…found something.” Matthew’s eyes, once bright as the sun, are now dull. He reaches into the inside of his jacket, which, if Hao squints, is still scorched at the hems. “Actually, Hao, you can probably help us understand it. We found it in the Wolf House…”
Matthew holds something out to him. It dangles from his fingers. Hao takes it gingerly.
It…does look like a key. Not like one he’s ever seen, though. It’s big enough to span across both of his palms, and where the ring should be is instead what looks more like a miniature plaque, engraved with jagged symbols. Hao squints at it, holding it at an angle where Hanbin can see it as well.
“You found this at the Wolf House?” Hao asks, rotating the key-like object. It glints oddly, reminiscent of a razor-sharp blade, despite its rounded edges. “I’ve never seen this before.”
“Jiwoon—” Matthew’s voice cracks at the name. “He broke a part of the ground while fighting. When Taerae and I were searching, we found this underneath. Is it Latin?”
“No…” Hao purses his lips. “These look like runes.”
He can’t be one-hundred percent certain, but they definitely look similar to the symbols he’s seen the Trivia legacies study. And when he holds the key still, he can feel it thrum with magic, in a way that resonates through him. He hands it to Hanbin to hide how his arms have begun shaking from the strain.
“A key,” Hanbin mutters, thoughtful. His bracelet clinks quietly with the end of the object. “Where have I…”
He pauses. Then, so suddenly it nearly gives Hao a heart attack, he leaps to his feet.
“Hanbin?! What—”
“The chariot.” He pulls Hao to his feet, still with such care despite his haste, eyes crazed. “Hao—the chariot—there was a compartment—”
“Slow down.” He runs both hands down Hanbin’s temples to his neck, coaxing him to breathe out. As he does, he shoots a look at Matthew and Taerae, who have also gotten to their feet, equally confused. “What chariot?”
“The one we found in Alaska. That we brought back. I swear, I saw a compartment, and it looked like it had some kind of keyhole—” He clasps Hao’s wrists, the key still in his grip. “Where’s the chariot? Where would they keep it?”
“Um—probably by the stables, it’s near the Fifth Cohort barracks—”
Hanbin wastes no time after that, tugging him along and beckoning for the other two to follow, and together they all set off. Hao, truthfully, doesn’t remember much about the chariot, beyond the fact that it was almost completely solid gold. The very short trip he’s spent on it, he’d been very much preoccupied with other things. But if Hanbin saw something…
They spot the chariot just outside the stables, shining brilliantly under the sky that begins to burn orange, with the sun slowly lowering closer to the horizon. He leans his weight on it, drained after trying to keep up with Hanbin, who now jumps onto the chariot and taps the inner wall. Hao squints, vision swimming slightly.
“See?” Hanbin taps the wall, where there is actually some kind of panel. “I couldn’t get it to open, but this hole next to it looks like a key could fit in it, right?”
“What’s this?” Matthew’s on the chariot now, too, tapping at something on the floor with his foot. Another panel is there, although much bigger, and more of an indented space, like something’s supposed to fit inside of it. “There’s something written on it…”
Hao’s hand grazes the chariot’s surface. Now that he’s here, focusing on it with his full attention…there’s something interesting about it. Something that nags the back of his mind. Hao has definitely never seen it before in his life—it’s been buried under the ocean longer than he’s been alive—so why does it feel he should recognize it?
“I think this is Latin,” Taerae says. “Mille…viae…?”
Hao glances over. “It is Latin,” he confirms. “The original form of the proverb that goes ‘all roads lead to Rome.’”
“Rome. Thanatos told us to start our search there, didn’t he? For—oh!”
Hanbin cuts himself off, as he slides the key in. It fits perfectly, clicking right into the hilt, although when he tries to turn it, nothing happens.
“Hm.” He pouts slightly. “It didn’t work.”
“But the key fit. That can’t be a coincidence.” Matthew tries his luck turning the key as well, to no avail. “Maybe it’s still missing something? Another piece?”
“Oh.”
They all stop.
“Hao?” Hanbin hops down. “What’s up?”
It hit him, all of a sudden, what the key to peace could be. An old story he and Kuanjui have only ever heard bits and pieces of after becoming praetors. A reason that spans all the way to ancient times, that revolves around the gods themselves.
Or rather…only one god.
“This won’t work,” Hao says. “We’re missing a piece.”
“What do you mean?”
“I need to talk to Kuanjui.” His mind is already running a million miles an hour, separate pieces all connecting through old memories and vast expanses of time. “And look through our old records. I don’t know, it might not be right, but if this is what I think it is…we need something else.”
All roads lead to Rome.
“The key can’t work without magic,” Hao says, focus darting around the chariot. The puzzle. “And it’s missing a map. But if it’s activated properly, that should open.” He points to the locked compartment. “And if I’m right, it’ll show us where we need to go in Rome.”
“Like. Like Rome Rome? Like in Italy?” Matthew does a double take. “But…didn’t you say the Doors of Death are also there?”
“We don't know that yet. Thanatos just said we had to start our search there,” Hanbin recalls, “with the right kind of demigod as our guide.”
“A demigod that can guide us to the Doors of Death, and someone that can do magic, and a map.” Taerae counts them off his fingers. “Gods, there’s a lot to do, isn’t there? Where are we supposed to start with all that? Who would even be able to—”
WHOOSH!
The sound of wings, flapping through the air. From the skies, a large shadow descends, landing just before the stables—a pure black pegasus, majestic mane ruffling in the lingering breeze. Just as its hooves touch the ground, the sunset flares outwards in a brilliant spectrum of magenta and gold, illuminating the pegasus’s rider in vibrant color.
The rider’s hair shines almost platinum. There’s a scroll crumpled in one of his fists. On the book strapped to the saddle, Hao can spot the cover, scrawled over with lines and lines of runes.
“What?” Ricky asks, blinking at the four of them. “What are you looking at me like that for?”