Chapter 12 The Final Test

Five Years Later

Above: The crackling inferno painted with vibrant hues of orange and red in the sky. The roaring blaze echoed through the valley, drowning out all other sounds. The acrid scent of smoke penetrated his nostrils, stinging his lungs with every breath. Apollo's heart raced, his chest constricted with fear and disbelief as he watched his beloved landscape succumb to the relentless flames.

It had started as a far-off plume of smoke on the horizon—a thin line against the otherwise clear blue of the sky. There had been close calls with distant fires never threatening to come closer. This time, there was something about how the smoke curled upwards, thick and black, blotting the sun out. Good thing Ares was in town picking up supplies, oblivious to the danger winding its way closer and closer to home.

The fire was closer now, a roaring beast with an insatiable hunger, devouring everything in its path—trees, brush, the very earth beneath it. The air crackled with its rage, a monstrous symphony that drowned out everything else, like demons howling in a nightmarish chorus. Once blue and clear, the sky had turned a sickly orange, and the sun was reduced to a faint, ghostly disk behind a suffocating veil of smoke. The scent of burning pine and scorched earth filled Apollo's nostrils, stinging his eyes and making each breath feel like swallowing ash.

The heat pressed against his back, relentless and scorching, urging him forward with an urgency that left no room for hesitation. Apollo moved with grim determination, his focus on the animals, the fear in their eyes mirroring the panic that threatened to claw its way up his throat. He could feel the ground trembling beneath his feet, the vibrations of trees collapsing under the weight of the flames, their deaths adding fuel to the inferno.

But the fire was faster than he'd anticipated, more cunning than he'd feared. Flames erupted around them, encircling him and the animals in a fiery embrace, transforming the world into a hellscape of blistering heat and blinding light. The firewall loomed, crackling with malevolent intent, its orange and red tongues licking the sky, leaving no escape. The noise was deafening, a roar that seemed to consume everything, every rational thought, every shred of hope.

Apollo's heart pounded in his chest, his breath coming in ragged gasps as the panic surged, clawing at the edges of his resolve. But he couldn't afford to give in or let the fear take root. The task at hand was straightforward, simple in its urgency: get them to the water. That was the only way any of them would survive. He forced the panic down, burying it beneath layers of determination, focusing only on the next step and the next, blocking out the chaos all around him.

The lake shimmered in the distance, a beacon of salvation amidst the chaos, its surface reflecting the fiery sky like a twisted mirror. But it was still too far, and the fire was closing in, its heat searing his skin even from a distance. The animals bleated and whined in terror, their eyes wide with fear, sensing the danger surrounding them. Apollo pushed them forward, his voice hoarse from the smoke and shouting, driving them toward the water with every ounce of strength he had left.

The flames were relentless, a living, breathing entity that fed on everything in its path. The air was thick with smoke, burning Apollo's lungs with every inhale, the acrid taste of it coating his tongue. His muscles ached, and his skin felt like it was blistering under the intense heat, but he didn't stop, couldn't stop. There was no room for pain or exhaustion, only the desperate need to reach the lake, to find safety in its cool, protective embrace.

Finally, they reached the lake's edge with the fire at their backs. Apollo didn't hesitate. He drove the animals into the water, following them as the flames roared behind him. The cool water closed over his head, dousing the fire's heat and silencing its deafening roar. For a moment, there was nothing but the muffled sound of the water, the sensation of weightlessness, and the blessed relief from the scorching heat.

When Apollo surfaced, gasping for air, he turned to look at the inferno that had chased them to the water's edge. The flames danced and crackled on the shore, unable to reach them now, their fury contained by the water's excellent barrier. The world was still ablaze, but in the safety of the lake, Apollo felt a strange sense of calm wash over him. They had made it. They had survived. And as the fire raged on, consuming everything in its path, Apollo knew that this battle, at least, had been won.

Finally, after several nail-biting hours, the fire choked itself off, and Apollo led them back to the ruins of their habitation. The cabin, studio, and honeybees were scorched. The smell of smoke clung to his every breath, mocking their loss. Ares stumbled upon the scene hours later, after the road was able to be cleared, his face white with aghast horror as he looked upon the destruction. They did not speak their grief when the two men embraced each other.

For days, they searched for Hecate, never giving up hope. She had survived, not only that, but she had managed to save several of their farm animals, too. In company with their goats and chickens, she had rounded up a cow, a pair of swans, a llama, its baby and even a baby beaver. Apollo could only smile back through his tears as they rounded up the animals and returned them. Life would go on despite the ruin, and they would rebuild again—this time together.

***

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The months afterward tested them and their fortitude. Apollo was way down, mourning his sculptures—the art to which he had toiled and poured his very soul into. The insurance money would help them rebuild, but how would he replace all he had lost? Ares was there to give him quiet support, and he learned the construction ropes as they rebuilt their home from scratch. Slow, painful work, it might have been, but as the new cabin started taking shape, so did their resolve.

Ares had never created a home, but he learned quickly with Apollo's help. Here they were, working side by side, their bond growing stronger with every nail, beam, and layer of wood. The new cabin was different, robust, and resilient, bound together by love and shared experience. Apollo was building a house Ares was building a home.

Finally, during the fall season, after what seemed like a lifetime, the cabin was finished. Soon after, he began drawing designs for his new studio; ideas plagued his mind. The rebuilding of his life started with his art, which he needed to begin back with, filling him with a renewed sense of purpose. Instead of wood he may make his studio in stones or ceramics.

There was, however, an evening when Apollo sat right next to Ares on the porch of the little cabin they had built and just stared at the sun diving below the horizon. There was something aloofly pensive in his eyes.

"We have been through hell," he said, steadfast. "More than most couples ever have to face. And we've come out stronger because of it."

Ares smiled, reaching out to take Apollo's hand. "I wouldn't trade it for anything," he replied. "Not the good, not the bad. It's all part of what makes us who we are."

Apollo took a deep breath, and his heart was pounding. He seemed to have been waiting for a long time but now knew the right moment was here. "Ares," he began, his voice full of emotion, "I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Building a future together, not just a cabin or a studio, but a life—a family. Will you marry me?"

Ares's eyes grew wide in shock and then welled with tearful joy. ‘Yes,' he whispered, choked with emotion.

Apollo could only smile as he reached into his pocket and produced a small box. Within this box was a custom-made ring designed with various tones of Greek mythology. The band was engraved with laurel leaves, symbols of victory, and held a deep blue sapphire, symbolizing wisdom and truth.

"I had this made for you," Apollo said, his voice trembling slightly. "It's a symbol of everything we've been through and overcome. And it's a promise of what's to come."

Ares took the ring, slipping it onto his finger with a smile. "It's perfect," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Just like you."

They kissed, the world around them seeming to churn away to nothing, and held each other. The fire had tested them, pushed them hard, but ultimately, made them stronger.

Hands locked together, they looked out into the land, with their hearts full, enjoying the view together. Apollo and Ares reposed on the porch—now theirs. The sun was dipping down beyond the horizon.