Page 227 of Styx

our son was not even conscious,

that Pallas could barely carry him.

‘Bring him inside!’ I told him urgently,

taking Zelus’s arms from the messenger.

How could this have happened to my son?

Pallas had promised.

He had PROMISED.

Pallas laid Zelus on the bed and I

instantly got to work. My old spells,

my old herbs in hand,

I first soothed his wounds

and cast a spell for his pain.

Then, using the sacred thread Asteria and I

made long before the war to stitch

the wound of one of my River God brothers,

whom Metis had clawed to within an inch of his life,

I stitched his arms back on.

My tears fell freely

as I watched his face for winces of pain.

When I was done, covered in my child’s

blood, I turned to Pallas. ‘How…

How did this happen?’

He was sitting on the edge of the bed,

his face in his hands. ‘It… it was my fault.

I let Perses take him too far into the fray.

Poseidon and Hades came for him.

He could not handle both at once.’

My hands turned into fists.

‘You told me nothing would happen

to our children. You promised!’