Her breathing hitched. More tears spilled, but this time, she didn’t wipe them away. A quiet sob escaped her.
Thanatos acted on instinct, pulling her against his chest. Iliana hung onto him as grief overtook her. He said nothing. Gave her no false comfort, no empty promises. He simply held her, his hand moving in slow, steady circles along her back.
Anubis nudged into his mind, but Thanatos quickly reassured him that Iliana was fine.
Several minutes passed before she pulled away, rubbing her swollen eyes. He produced a box of tissues, and she took them.
“Thanks. I hate crying.”
He watched her closely, ready to pull her close again. “It will get easier. In time.”
Iliana swallowed thickly. “When?”
“Grief is not a race. Everyone experiences it differently.” He remembered her speaking softly to her parents this morning. “Can I make a suggestion?”
She nodded uncertainly.
“I know it may be painful, but one thing seems to help others. Embrace their memories. Keeping their stories alive ensures they are never truly gone.”
Her eyes shone with fresh tears, but determination was now mixed in with her grief. “I can do that.”
“What’s one of your favorite memories of them?”
She was silent for a moment. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that yet. Can I answer another time?”
He only nodded, changing the conversation. “Where would you like to begin with your lessons?”
Iliana’s shoulders drooped, then curiosity lit a fire in her eyes. “First, let’s talk about the Fates. Greek mythology wasn’t covered in school,” she said and laughed. Then her eyes widened. “Should I not use the word ‘myth’?”
Thanatos smirked. “You can call them myths. We do.”
“Really? But you’re…you know. Real.”
“Most myths are not,” he said, amused by her reaction. “Mortals love to embellish. It makes better stories.”
She bit her lip, processing that. “So how much of what I’ve read is actually true?”
“Some of it. The broad strokes, usually.” He placed a hand over hers. “I do not know what you have heard about us, but you can speak freely. We will not take offense.”
“Even if I accidentally insult you by calling you myths?” she asked, her eyes playful.
His lips twitched. “We have been called worse. To most mortals, we are nothing but fables now, a way ancient humans explained the unexplainable. Call us whatever you wish.”
She squeezed his hand. “Thanks. From what I remember, there were a lot of stories about gods turning people into trees for minor offenses. Or cows. Lots of cows.”
Thanatos winced. “Some of those stories are true.”
“Seriously?” she asked.
“Maybe I should clarify. With my brother and me, with Anubis, you can be as blunt as you like. I promise we will not turn you into livestock.”
“That’s…reassuring.” She didn’t sound entirely convinced.
“Others, however, are less lenient,” he continued, his tone more serious. “They see humans as lesser. They do not appreciate being challenged.”
“And Hermes?” she asked, her brows knitted together.
Sighing, Thanatos pulled his hand away. “I am not sure about him.”
