Axiomel didn't know who moved first. Maybe it was him. Maybe it was Thyrion already talking in the other room. All he knew was that the feeling of deja vu seemed to had increased.
The inn was already rowdy with noise.
He sat up slowly, testing his body like he always did now. Shoulder—fine enough. Side—tight, sore, but not bleeding through the bandage. Leg—still stiff. He rolled his ankle once, just to make sure it would hold.
It did.
Good.
He stood and dressed without rushing. The others were already moving. Kastor yawned once, then stopped himself like he was embarrassed by it.
They ate quickly. Bread. Water. A little fat. Nothing fancy. The innkeeper barely looked at them this time, just took the coin and nodded toward the door.
Outside, the air was cool and sharp. Morning light hung low, pale and weak, like it hadn't decided whether it wanted to commit yet.
The horses were brought out.
Axiomel swung up into the saddle and felt that same tight pull in his chest again. The one he'd felt since yesterday. Since before the wolves. Since before sleep.
He ignored it.
"We ride straight back," he said.
Thyrion glanced over. "No stopping?"
"No."
"Guild first?" Kastor asked.
"Yes," Axiomel said. Then, after a beat, "After."
That seemed to satisfy them.
They rode.
The road back to Sparta was familiar, which somehow made it worse. Axiomel knew every bend, every rise, every stretch where the dust turned thicker. He'd ridden this path a hundred times. Usually, he enjoyed it. Today, it just felt like the road was dragging its feet.
They didn't talk much.
Eryx rode hunched forward, one hand pressed to his side. Kastor kept adjusting his grip on the reins like they might slip away if he didn't watch them closely. Myris rode beside Axiomel for a while, then drifted back, then forward again, never quite settling.
By midday, Sparta came into view.
Stone walls. Training yards. The familiar shape of the city rising out of dust and heat.
Axiomel felt his stomach twist.
"Home," Thyrion said, sounding relieved.
Axiomel didn't answer.
They rode in through the gates without trouble. A few guards glanced at their condition their bloodstained clothes, stiff movements but no one stopped them. Sparta wasn't the kind of city that asked questions if you came back alive.
They dismounted near the guild hall.
"I'll submit the fragment," Kastor said, lifting the wrapped bone piece carefully. "Get us paid."
"I'll come with—" Eryx started.
"I'm going home," Axiomel said.
Myris turned toward him immediately. "Now?"
"Yes."
Thyrion frowned. "Ax, at least wait until—"
"I'll be back," Axiomel said. He tried to keep his voice even. "I just need to check on her."
There was a pause.
No one argued.
Myris searched his face for a second, then nodded. "Don't take long."
He said nothing, then ran.
Faster than he should have been moving in his condition, but he didn't care. His boots hit the ground hard, each step jarring, sending little flares of pain up his leg.
He took the narrow streets instead of the main roads. Shortcuts he'd learned as a boy. Past stalls just opening for the day. Past people who didn't look at him twice.
Everything looked normal.
That made it worse.
She's fine, he told himself. You're just tired.
He turned the corner onto his street.
Slowed.
Then stopped.
The door was open.
Open.
Axiomel stood there longer than he meant to. Just staring at it. The dark space inside the house. The way the door hung slightly crooked, like it hadn't been closed properly.
She never leaves it open.
His heart started beating harder.
He crossed the yard quickly now, gravel crunching underfoot. He pushed the door wider and stepped inside.
"Mother?" he called.
No answer.
The house felt… empty. No warmth. No smell of cooking. No quiet movement from the back room.
His throat went dry.
"Mother?" he called again, louder.
Still nothing.
He moved deeper into the house, steps slower now, every instinct screaming at him to turn around. The inner door was open too.
That made his hands shake.
He stood there, just outside the doorway, for a moment that felt too long.
Then he stepped inside.
At first, Axiomel didn't understand what he was looking at.
It didn't register all at once. His mind refused to take it in like a whole picture, so it broke it apart instead. The bed first. The sheets, darkened and wrinkled with blood. One corner pulled loose, hanging over the side.
Then her arm.
Bare. Bruised.
He took another step without meaning to.
"Mother…?"
His voice came out small. Too small for the room.
Eleni lay on the bed, her body turned slightly toward the wall. Her hair had come loose, gray strands stuck to her face with sweat. Her chest rose.
Barely.
Axiomel's breath caught hard enough to hurt.
She was alive.
The relief hit him so fast his knees nearly gave out, immediately followed by something worse. Because alive meant she could still hurt. Alive meant she was still here to see him see this.
He crossed the room slowly, like sudden movement might break her. His hands hovered uselessly at his sides, unsure where it was safe to touch.
Her skin was cold.
Bruises marked her arms, her shoulders, her thighs. Some dark. Some fresh. Others already fading in ugly colors. Her clothes were gone, folded nowhere, discarded like they didn't matter.
Axiomel swallowed hard.
"No," he whispered. "No, no…"
He knelt beside the bed. His hands finally found hers, closing around her fingers gently, like she might disappear if he held too tight.
"Mother," he said again, louder now. "I'm here."
Her eyelids fluttered.
Tears immediately started spilling from his eyes
Axiomel leaned in instantly. "I'm here. I came back. You're not alone."
Her lips moved.
No sound came out.
He leaned closer, heart hammering so hard it felt like it might tear something loose in his chest.
"It's okay," he said, even though it wasn't. "You don't have to talk. Just—just stay with me."
Her fingers twitched weakly in his grasp.
Then, finally, her lips parted again.
"Axi…" she whispered.
The sound broke him.
"I'm here," he said, voice shaking. "I'm right here."
Her eyes opened a fraction more. They were unfocused, cloudy with pain, but they found him. Held him.
She tried to lift her hand.
He helped, guiding it carefully until it rested against his wrist.
Her grip was barely there.
She drew a shallow breath.
He knelt, hands trembling. Her skin was cold, bruised in ugly purples and greens. Clothing gone. He felt tears sting.
"No," he whispered.
Gingerly, he took her in his arms. "I'm here," he told her. "I came back."
Her eyelids fluttered. Tears fell. "Axi…" she breathed, fragile.
He squeezed her hand. "You're not alone."
She parted lips, fought for air. "Don't kneel…no matter who…"
His chest clenched. "What?"
Her fingers curled. "Gold…from the sky…lightning…" Her grip slackened. "Go…to Athens. Find Nanga."
Her voice strengthened briefly, eyes finding his. "My son... my heart since your first breath." Her fingers tightened with surprising force. "Promise me. Live fiercely. Find joy. Create a legacy that would make this old woman smile."
Axiomel's voice broke. "I promise, Mother. Just stay with me." His face crumpled as tears tracked down his dust-streaked cheeks, falling onto their clasped hands.
Then her hand slipped free.
"Mother!" The word tore from him.
He pressed his ear to her chest—heartbeat a faint whisper. She was gone. Grief and guilt crashed through him. He'd left her. Failed her.
He sat on the floor, shaking, the echo of her last words more real than the silence around him.