Chapter 5
Aletheia's POV
I must have dozed off, because the next thing I knew, there was a knock on the door.
I sat up quickly, my body tensing. In Cocytus, unexpected sounds meant pain was coming.
"Aletheia?" A voice called from outside. Familiar. Male. "Are you in there?"
Orion.
I considered not answering. But he'd just keep knocking.
"What do you want?" I called back.
"Can I come in?"
"No."
Silence. Then: "Please. I just want to talk."
"We have nothing to talk about."
"Aletheia—"
"Go away, Orion."
More silence. I thought maybe he'd actually left. Then I heard the door open anyway.
He stepped inside, and I saw he was carrying something. A bundle of fabric. White and gold, shimmering with divine light.
"Mother sent this," he said, holding it out. "A new robe. She thought you might want something... cleaner."
I looked at the robe. It was beautiful. Expensive. The kind of thing I used to wear every day without thinking.
The kind of thing that would burn my skin if I put it on.
"Tell her I said no."
Orion's jaw tightened. "Aletheia, you can't keep wearing those prison rags. People are going to—"
"Going to what?" I cut him off. "Talk? Judge me? They already do that. At least this way, they know exactly what I am."
"You're not a prisoner anymore."
I laughed. It came out harsh and bitter. "Aren't I?"
He flinched like I'd hit him.
"Just leave the robe," I said, turning away. "I'll think about it."
Another lie. But it got him to go.
After he left, I picked up the robe and held it close to my skin. Just for a second.
The divine energy woven into the fabric made my skin blister immediately. Small red welts appeared on my palm where I'd touched it.
I dropped the robe and watched it crumple on the floor, its sacred light slowly fading.
Then I lay back down and closed my eyes.
Tomorrow. I'd deal with everything tomorrow.
The next morning, I woke to silence. No shouting. No footsteps outside. Just the quiet darkness of the Withered Vine Pavilion.
I sat up slowly, my ankle protesting. The divine robe Orion had brought still lay where I'd dropped it, now completely dark. Whatever blessing had been woven into it had burned itself out trying to touch my corrupted skin.
I looked at the prison rags I was wearing. Grey, rough, carrying the chill of the River of Lamentation. This was what I'd worn for ten years in Cocytus, proof of my suffering.
But I couldn't keep wearing it. Couldn't let Grandmother see me in it and cry again.
I pushed open the door and found the divine servant from yesterday in the hallway.
"Miss." She kept her head down.
"I need clothes," I said calmly. "Something plain. The kind you servants wear."
She looked up, confusion flashing in her eyes. "But... the divine robe Lord Helios sent—"
"I can't wear it." I cut her off without explaining. "Get me a simple linen robe. Something plain."
She hesitated, then nodded quickly. "I... I'll get one right away. Please wait."
She hurried off and returned a few minutes later with a folded garment. A simple robe, beige linen, no decoration. The kind servants wore for work.
"This is it," she said, her hands trembling as she handed it to me. "This is... this is what we usually wear. If you don't like it, I can—"
"It's fine." I took the clothes. The fabric was rough but clean, and most importantly, it wasn't saturated with divine energy. "Thank you."
She froze, as if she hadn't expected me to thank her. Then she bowed deeply and hurried away.
I went back to my room, took off the prison rags, and put on the linen robe. It was a bit big, the sleeves too long, but comfortable. No burning. No stinging. Just ordinary fabric against ordinary skin.
I looked at the prison rags on the floor. Ten years of torture soaked into those fibers. Bloodstains, frost, despair.
I should throw it away. Burn it. Let it disappear with those memories.
But my hands didn't move.
Finally, I folded it and placed it in the corner of the room. Not because I wanted to keep it. Just because... I didn't know what to do with it yet.
I pulled down the sleeves of my new robe, making sure they covered the scars on my arms, then pushed open the door.
The path from the western edge of the estate to Rhea's sanctuary cut straight through the central courtyard.
Through the golden laurel tree.
I tried not to look at it. Tried to keep my eyes on the ground, my pace steady.
But I couldn't help it. My gaze lifted, and there it was.
The tree stood in the center of the courtyard like a monument. Every branch was heavy with golden blossoms, their light so bright it hurt to look at directly. The air around it shimmered with divine energy, and I could smell the sweet scent of the flowers even from here.
I stopped walking without meaning to.
I forced myself to start walking again, but my feet carried me closer to the tree instead of past it. Like they had a will of their own.
When I was close enough to touch, I stopped. Reached out slowly.
The moment I made contact with a golden petal, warmth flooded through me.
Not the burning heat of divine light that hurt. This was different. Gentle. Familiar. Like sunlight on skin, like the first warm day after a long winter.
I gasped, my hand freezing in place.
The flower I'd touched grew brighter. And the branch it grew from shifted, curling toward me like it recognized my touch.
Before I could pull away, a thin vine wrapped around my wrist. Gentle. Almost affectionate. It brushed against my scarred skin with a tenderness that made my chest ache.
More vines reached toward me. They moved slowly, carefully, like they were afraid I'd run. They touched my arms, my shoulders, swaying around me like they were trying to comfort me.
Why?
The question burned in my mind. It had never responded to me before. Never bloomed during the period when I fed it.
And now, after everything, after I'd been proven mortal and cast out and broken—now it was reaching for me like I mattered.
I stood very still, the vines continuing their gentle exploration.
It doesn't make sense, I thought. I have no divine power. The Testing Basin proved that. So why—
But I cut the thought off before it could finish. Shook my head sharply.
It doesn't matter. None of it matters.
I was leaving. Grandmother was still waiting for me. Whatever mysteries surrounded this tree, whatever questions remained unanswered—they could stay that way.
I wasn't part of this family anymore. Wasn't part of their story.
I pulled my hand back, and the vines released me immediately. But they didn't retreat all the way. They swayed in place, as if waiting. As if hoping I'd change my mind.
I turned and started walking toward the path that led to Rhea's sanctuary.
"Aletheia?"
The voice stopped me cold.
I turned slowly.
