Staring into Will's eyes, the world around me begins to fade into blackness.
The first thing I notice is the silence. Not the soft kind that settles at night, but the heavy, smothering kind that feels alive. My breath rasps in my throat, too loud, too human. The air tastes of smoke and iron, thick enough to choke on.
Somewhere behind me, something cracks, stone against stone, or maybe bone. I don't look back. I can't. My bare feet slide across cold marble, slick with something I would rather not name. Every instinct screams to run, but my knees lock, trembling, as if the floor itself is holding me down.
And then I see it, the glow. Flickering, restless, painting the walls in gold and shadow. Firelight, dancing like it knows a secret.
Flames danced on the marble walls, their light creating long shadows that covered the stone. My lungs burned. The metallic scent of blood mingled with the sweet perfume of crushed myrtle, and beneath it all, the sharp sting of betrayal.
I stood barefoot on the temple floor, a white tunic clinging wet to my skin, torn at the shoulder. My knees ached from kneeling too long, but I dared not rise. Not yet. Not until I saw him.
Will—though that hadn't been his name then—strode through the columns like a war god returned from conquest. His tunic was crimson, half torn, and streaked with soot and something darker. His hands trembled as he reached for me, and in that moment, the world quieted.
"You shouldn't be here," I whispered. My voice sounded strange—older, sadder, like it carried the weight of lifetimes.
He stopped before me, pressing his forehead to mine. His skin was hot—too hot—and he smelled of salt and sandalwood and something sacred.
"I would burn every city again to find you," he said.
Tears slipped down my cheeks before I even realized I was crying.
He reached behind me, unfastening the manacles shackled to my wrists. The metal groaned as it fell away, and his hands, bloodied and shaking, cupped my face with reverence.
"Do you remember?" he asked, voice cracked, eyes wild.
And I did.
The oath. That night under the olive trees. The stars as our witnesses. The promise that not even death would separate us.
He kissed me then—not like a lover claiming a mouth, but like a soul recognizing itself in another.
I gasped.
The vision shattered.
The scent of fire was gone. The marble, the torchlight, the blood—all of it vanished like mist under the sun.
I was back.
In the hollow tree.
Will stood inches from me, concern etched into the angles of his face.
But the memory—the echo—it still pulsed behind my eyes like lightning trapped behind glass.
And gods help me, I knew one thing for certain.
I had kissed him before. And I had lost him.
A look of concern on Will's face, "Are you alright?"
Will catches both my hands in his. That electric pulse shoots through my arms again—immediate, undeniable. It's as if the universe keeps trying to tell me something through the static in his touch.
He exhales shakily. "Angelia… I'm about to tell you something that might make me sound completely unhinged, but I swear on the gods, it's the truth. And I think something terrible's been done to you."
I don't speak. I can't. Because suddenly it feels like I'm watching this beautiful man through someone else's eyes. Like I've split in two—one part rooted here in the hollow tree, the other whispering from some faraway place where all this already happened.
Will's voice drops. "Someone has stolen your memories. All of them. Me. Us. Your life. Everything you were meant to know and carry forward... gone. And you don't even realize what was taken."
My eyes fall to our hands. His thumb moves softly over mine, reverent, like a prayer. Then I look back up at a face I don't recognize but that feels painfully familiar.
He steps closer, cautiously. "We met a few hundred years ago. Your presence was… is… the greatest thing that's ever happened to me. Back then, I was proud to be my father's son—Ares, the war god. I thought I'd inherit his legacy. I was born for blood, for battle, for adoration. And I didn't question it."
His gaze sharpens, voice thick with emotion. "Then you barged into my life. Angry. Defiant. Stubborn beyond reason. You infuriated me on a molecular level. And yet… you soothed something inside me I didn't know was broken."
I blink slowly. My body is still, but my mind spins. His words feel like poetry and madness all at once.
"You weren't like the others," he continues. "You didn't want anything from me. You tormented me for fun. Vanished any chance you got. You made me chase you through gardens, across rooftops, and down hallways like some kind of divine punishment for all my sins."
Will smiles now, like he's reliving something golden.
"Your mother and my father trusted me. Appointed me captain of your guard. I swore to contain you, even when you did everything in your power to make it impossible. Rich, spoiled nobles used to order me around like a glorified hound. But you? You escaped me just to prove you could."
His voice lowers into something intimate, like a shared joke between two souls with a thousand lifetimes between them.
"I spent three years trying to figure you out. Three years of unraveling you like a riddle, literally sent by the Fates themselves. And one night… I almost lost you."
I narrow my eyes slightly, caught somewhere between disbelief and the ache of something nearly remembered.
"I was doing rounds near the garden," he says. "Your bedroom light flickered on. I just knew. I bolted. Dropped half my gear trying to get there in time. And then I saw you—dangling off the cliff wall outside your room like some wild woodland sprite with a death wish."
I snort. "Wait. Are you seriously telling me you were watching my window? Should I be concerned about your peeping-tom tendencies?"
Will sputters, scandalized. "Gods, no! Your room was three stories up! I didn't spy on you, Angelia. I rescued you. Though… there was that one time in the garden fountain—but we'll come back to that."
He waves it off like it's a tale too scandalous for this moment.
"Anyway, you slipped. I felt it. I felt a sudden, awful pain in my chest. I thought I'd lost you. I ran—fast as I could. And when you fell… you landed right on top of me."
His hand rises to the center of his chest.
"I thought I broke my damn neck," he mutters with a half-smile. "But the strangest part? The pain in my heart—gone. You knocked the wind out of me, but you brought something else back to life."
He chuckles softly, eyes glowing with memory.
And I just… stare at him.
Because none of this makes sense. But it feels real. Like my bones recognize it, even if my mind doesn't.
"Oh yeah?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady, pulling at my hands, which he doesn't release. "So… is that when you and this girl—Angelia—started dating?"
He squints, one brow rising slowly. "Dating?" he echoes, like the word itself is foreign. "No. That's when we kissed for the first time."
My lips part, but I say nothing.
"It only took one kiss," he continued softly, "and I was gone. Completely addicted to you. There was no going back after that."
I try to pull my hands free again, but he holds them gently, like they're sacred. "I kissed you?" I ask, uncertain if I want the answer.
"You did." His voice drops to something reverent. "When you fell, you knocked me out cold. I remember coming to, barely able to move. You were crying, cradling my head in your lap, apologizing over and over. You thought you'd killed me."
My heart hitches.
"You kissed my forehead first, then my cheeks. You were frantic. But then something changed. You looked into my eyes—really looked—and your whole soul softened. You bent closer and kissed me… so gently, it felt like a butterfly brushing my lips. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't speak. I just felt it. You. Us. Like time had folded itself inward and everything else disappeared."
The back of my throat burns. I blink fast. "That's… sweet, Will."
He doesn't seem to hear my voice break. "You stayed by my side for weeks while I recovered. You even fed me. Bathed me. I might've pretended I was in worse shape than I actually was just to keep you close."
I can't help it—I smile at that, even through the rising tide in my chest.
"You stopped trying to escape after that," he says. "Started showing up to your training sessions without protest. And every evening, you'd mysteriously appear at my quarters, claiming you were just 'staying safe.' I knew better, but I didn't care. I would've let you lie to me forever just to keep you near."
A sharp pang twists inside me. Isn't this what I've always wanted? Something epic? Something real? Did it feel as if it would disappear the moment I touched it?
But instead of feeling whole, all I feel is a dull ache—because this story he's spinning doesn't belong to me.
Does it?
"You don't understand," Will murmurs, as if reading my thoughts. "This wasn't some courtly romance. It was war. It involved stolen moments, secret letters, and the sight of you disappearing into the shadows whenever a servant passed by. I asked you to dine with me once, and you told me I was being unprofessional."
I glanced up, surprised. He chuckles at the memory.
"You said my father would be furious. Thus, we engaged in secretive gestures of affection and leisurely strolls in the garden. A brush of your fingers against mine was enough to keep me sane. You didn't offer more, and I didn't ask. Not for a long time."
His thumb draws slow circles over the tender skin between my thumb and forefinger. My chest feels tight. My soul is whispering something I can't quite hear.
"I was and am in love with you," he says simply. "Always."
The world feels too quiet.
"And then," he adds, voice colored with amusement, "there was the time I found you sunbathing nude in the garden."
I nearly choked. "I'm sorry, what?"
He smirks. "Oh yes. I was patrolling the perimeter. I should've looked away, but I was enchanted—and frankly, hopeless. I crept closer, like an idiot, and you knew. You grabbed my wrist, spun, and threw me over your shoulder into the fountain."
I can't help it—I laugh. Loud and real.
Will grins, clearly proud. "You got me good. I came up sputtering and soaked, and you just stood there laughing, your hair shining like gold in the sun. I wrapped you in my cloak and tried to act dignified—but Hermes happened to walk in at that exact moment. He took one look at us and walked right back out, shaking his head."
The image plays in my mind like something from a dream—too vivid, too warm, too surreal.
"We married in secret not long after that," Will says, and now there's reverence in his tone. "No god had ever dared bind their blood to another god or a human before. It was forbidden. But we didn't care. We planned every detail, brought it to Zeus, and dared him to say no."
I stare at him.
Because everything he's saying feels like lightning flashing behind my eyes—bright, blinding, and far too close to home.