romance author

 

Kvasir watched as the woman nicknamed the goddess of war comforted three crying children.

Holding them. Rubbing their backs. Telling them stories.

For the first time in a dozen moons, she smiled.

Genuinely smiled.

 

Three terrified children stared at Athena.

She always had sweets. And gifts. And she knew them, at least had known them when they’d been adults.

She handed Caledon a deck of cards, Dominic a toy sword, and Emelia a stuffed bear.

They stared at her, then began to cry.

 

Athena had never met these children, but she would recognize them anywhere.

Her strategist. Her knight-protector. Her warrior.

All she had lost. All she desperately missed.

“Raise them to be the leaders they should have been. I will be back for them.” Athena’s twin disappeared back through the tear and sealed it behind himself.

 

“I need your help,” the man said.

“Who are you? What do you want?”

Her words were lost among the cacophony billowing out from the rend as he shoved three small children through and in front of him.

Athena nearly dropped her sword.

 

As Athena stared into the night, a terrible noise ripped through her. It sounded like fabric tearing, but so much louder and more ominous.

Drawing the divine blade she always carried, she fell back into a battle stance as the sky itself was rended.

A man that could have been Athena’s twin stepped through, and the blade he carried was identical to hers.

His gaze locked with hers, and for a moment, she felt as if she were staring in a mirror.

 

The moon brightened the night sky as Athena stood on her balcony and absorbed the silence.

“It was good to see so many familiar faces,” Kvasir said.

“Friends. And yes, it is.” Athena stared at the stars. “Do you think they have found their home with the goddess and are at peace by Her side?”

“Yes.”

“I hope so,” Athena whispered, but she couldn’t hide her doubt.