26. Οdysseus

26

Οdysseus

T he clouds tore apart, and an unnatural light flooded the sky, searing my vision. The golden glow that I had fallen asleep in now blazed with a ferocity that scorched the very air. The atmosphere thickened with an oppressive heat, the kind that presses against your chest until you can barely draw breath, and sweat beaded on my skin instantly. I wasn’t alone. Around me, the air grew thick with the pungent stench of fear and body odour.

I tried to open my eyes against the blinding light, but it was useless. Helios himself had descended in fury, his form a smouldering silhouette behind my clenched eyelids. I could almost see his chariot of fire, drawn by four blazing horses, but I didn’t need sight to feel his wrath. Instead, my eyes were torn to the earth beneath us as it shuddered in terror.

Before I could even comprehend what was happening, the grass and sand beneath the men bubbled and hiss, transforming into molten glass that clung to their feet. The air filled with their screams, inhuman, guttural wails of agony that pierced my skull and lodged deep within my soul. I knew, even in that moment, that those screams would haunt me for the rest of my days, echoing in the darkest corners of my mind. But it was the smell that truly marked this as a divine punishment – the nauseating stench of charred flesh, the same flesh that had greedily devoured Helios’ sacred cattle, now roasted by the god’s relentless fire.

The men flailed, their bodies writhing in torment as the divine flames consumed them, searing flesh from bone with an unceasing, unholy heat. Blind with pain, they staggered towards the ocean, driven mad by the agony that refused to relent. One by one, they plunged into the churning waves, their screams swallowed by saltwater. When the last head finally disappeared beneath the waves, leaving only the steaming surface of the ocean as a grim testament to their fate, I forced myself to look back at the island. The lush, vibrant glade that had teemed with life only hours before had been obliterated, scorched to a desolate wasteland.

And in that moment of silence, of utter devastation, I realised that there was no one left but myself and Odette.

Almost immediately, the wind died down to an eerie calm, the sea as still as glass. I watched Odette walk towards the ocean, her vision fixed on the horizon. There was something different in her posture, a tension that made me wary.

She wasn’t doing what I thought she was doing, surely – we had just survived.

Only the two of us had survived.

I stood and approached her quietly, unsure of what to say, but as I reached her side, I heard her mutter something under her breath, soft enough for the wind to carry away, that made my blood run cold.

“I revoke my vow,” she said, her voice trembling with resolve. “I revoke it, and I offer myself in its place, for nothing can be worse than what you have already put us through.”

My heart hammered against my ribcage. What vow ?

Before I could ask, the sea beneath our feet churned once again until a whirlpool formed beneath us, its gaping maw widening with every passing second.

“Odette!”

My voice was swallowed by the roar of the water, but she turned to face me, her expression calm, almost serene. Our last remaining ship tilted dangerously, before there was a deafening crack and the boat was torn in two, the mast splintering as it was swallowed by the whirlpool.

I reached for Odette, who stood too close to the lip of the vortex, but she was already slipping from my grasp, her body pulled towards the ocean.

“NO!” I lunged forward, the force of the water dragging me down.

I caught one last glimpse of Odette, her now shoulder-length hair swirling around her like a dark halo, before the water closed over my head. The pressure was immense, crushing the air from my lungs as I was spun helplessly in the current. My vision blurred, and I fought to stay conscious, to keep my eyes on her.

I failed.

I felt hands, cold and trembling, drag me onto a piece of drifting wood in my semi-conscious state, but my strength was nearly spent after surviving the violent currents. It was all I could do to hold on, to float, to be carried away to wherever the gods were sending me next.

When I finally came to, I could feel something solid beneath my face; sand, I eventually recognised. Struggling, I blinked my eyes open to find Odette beside me. I had to concentrate all of my energy to focus on her form. Her hair was plastered to her face, her eyes closed, but she was breathing. It allowed me to hope, before exhaustion pulled me back under.

I have no idea how long we lay there. Days could have passed, it could have been hours, but eventually I stirred again when the warmth on my skin grew too much.

Groggily, I pried my eyes open to a sight unfamiliar, yet strangely comforting – an expanse of soft sand, a lush line of trees in the distance, and the steady murmur of the ocean behind me. For a moment, I lay still, letting the reality of the situation sink in. We had survived. Somehow, we had been spared.

Odette was already awake, sitting up beside me, her eyes fixed on the horizon. Her expression was unreadable, a mixture of exhaustion and something I couldn’t quite place – resignation, perhaps, or relief.

I pushed myself up, my body stiff and aching. “Are you all right?” I asked, my voice hoarse from the saltwater and strain.

She nodded, but said nothing. Her sight remained on the distant line where the sea met the sky, as if she were searching for something far beyond our reach.

Had I truly heard her make that vow?

I replayed the moment in my mind, searching for certainty. The words had chilled me, but it was her voice – I was sure of that. Gods, had I imagined it? Perhaps it was thirst that had played tricks on me, that hollow dryness burning in my throat and filling my thoughts with spectres. Because, whatever she was, Odette was no fool. A vow that could destroy us both, if she had spoken such a thing, would surely have been laced with hatred, unmistakable in its intent. I would have felt it, wouldn’t I?

I clenched my jaw and forced the thought away. It was nonsense, the fanciful imaginings of a man too long at sea, too worn by war and weariness.

Instead, we spent the day exploring the island in each other’s quiet company, moving slowly, cautiously, as if afraid to disturb the peace that seemed to envelop the place. The land was bountiful. Fruit hung heavy on the trees, freshwater streams flowed clear and cool, and the air was rich with the scent of flowers and earth. It was a paradise, untouched by the hands of men or gods.

As we walked, I could feel the tension in my shoulders begin to ease, the weight of our journey lifting ever so slightly. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, there was no immediate danger, no looming threat, no divine punishment to fear. The sun was gentle on our skin, the breeze a soft caress that carried with it the scent of salt and life.

Days passed in a blur of quiet routine. We built a shelter from palm fronds and driftwood, a simple structure that provided shade and a sense of security. We gathered food, drank from the streams, and washed away the remnants of the day’s foraging in the cool waters of the island’s pools. With each passing day, the island seemed to welcome us more, generously offering its resources.

Odette spoke little, her silence a constant companion that I had grown accustomed to. I watched her as she moved through our days with a calm efficiency, her hands never idle, her thoughts always elsewhere. She was still with me, but I could feel the distance between us growing.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, and we sat just close enough to the water’s edge that the waves could lap at our feet, as had been our custom the last several nights, I found myself saying, “We could stay here,” the words slipping out before I had fully considered them.

She turned to me, her eyes reflecting the fading light. “Stay?” she echoed, her voice soft, almost disbelieving.

“I would, with you,” I replied, and I meant it. After everything we had been through, after all the losses and the pain, I was tired. Tired of fighting, tired of struggling to reach a home that had become more myth than reality in my mind. Here, with Odette, I could find a different kind of peace.

“We have everything we need here,” I continued, the idea solidifying in my mind as I spoke. “Food, water, shelter. It’s peaceful. We could build a life here, grow old here. Together.”

Odette looked out at the sea, her expression unreadable once more. “And Ithaca?” she asked.

“Ithaca is a distant memory,” I said, surprising even myself with the truth of it. “This place, it could be our Ithaca. We could find peace here, after everything.”

She didn’t say anything, but the way she leaned into me, the way her hand found mine, told me everything I needed to know. We were in this together, whatever ‘this’ was. For the first time in what felt like years, I allowed myself to dream of a future that didn’t involve endless battles and impossible quests.

In the silence I watched her, noticing the way the fading light of the day played across her features, softening the edges of her worry. She must have felt me staring, for her eyes met mine, and for a moment something unspoken passed between us – a shared recognition of all that we had endured, and perhaps, a tentative hope for what might yet come.

Without a word, I reached over and with my other hand, pulled her hip towards me until she rolled onto my lap, the space between us closed in an instant. I reached out, my hand brushing against her cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin, the steady beat of her pulse beneath my fingers, until my thumb parted her lips and she let out a little breathy moan. I leant forward and captured it with my own mouth, my hand gripping her hair, pulling her deeper into me.

My other hand roamed over her body, memorising the spot between her neck and her shoulder, the heavy weight of her breast, the dip of her waist, and curve of her hip, as if trying to etch this moment into my very soul. Odette arched into me, her body willing as she moved on top of me, in that soft, urgent way of hers. I let myself get lost in her, in the rhythm of our bodies that was both familiar and yet entirely new, until the heat between us built to a burning intensity.

Unsheathing myself, Odette spread herself wider and then settled down onto me, both of us watching my cock fill her slowly. She moaned. I myself had to bite back a curse to stop from digging my fingers into her thick hips, pulling out and slamming myself back in or speeding it up.

I wanted to savour this sweet hell.

I took her mouth in another kiss. She tasted like the sweetest of ripe apples, her moans better than any symphony my mind could remember, the feel of her smooth skin against my calloused hands a balm I somehow knew I needed for the rest of my life.

She sunk down on me again, over and over, until my head rolled back and she leaned to kiss the thick cord of my neck, and I couldn’t have stopped myself if I tried, cupping her to me, her breasts crushed against my chest, as I pumped once, twice, three times, and came deep inside her.

Afterwards, with Odette snuggled into my chest, I leaned in to press a kiss against her forehead, her hair tickling me and smelling of crushed grass. This woman in my arms had become my home away from home, the one who could cajole me into a laugh or a tired smile, no matter my temperament, whose mind was so like mine. These past days, I had found myself craving to wake her just to hear her thoughts, though sparing but insightful during the day, or share my own with her.

I still loved my wife, and I’d fallen in love with the woman beside me.

As if the thought had conjured the divine, a strange sensation began to prickle along my arms. I lifted my head, scanning the treeline, then sat up, my arms braced on my knees.

“Odysseus? What is it?”

“We’re not alone.”

As soon as I said the words, the creature emerged, stepping gracefully from the jungle. Her skin was ochre while ebony dark waves of hair cascaded down her back wildly. Her eyes, the same colour as her skin, were round with curiosity, fixed on us with an intensity I didn’t like.

She continued to approach us with an almost predatory grace, as if worried we would scarper. Yet, her attention never wavered, and for some reason my brain told me that if we ran, she would catch us, no matter how long it took.

“I’ve been watching you,” she said, her voice lilting with a strange mix of innocence and power. “I do not understand this … what you did.” She gestured vaguely at our bodies, her expression a mixture of curiosity and confusion. “Show me,” she demanded, her eyes locking onto mine with an earnestness that belied the command in her voice.

I felt Odette tense beside me, and I pushed myself up, wrapping my chiton around my hips as I did so. “No,” I replied firmly, despite the unease crawling through me. “It’s not something to be shown.”

She tilted her head, as if pondering my refusal. For a moment, her gaze softened, and she looked almost human, almost vulnerable. But then, just as quickly, her expression hardened, and I knew that this was no ordinary woman. This was a goddess, ancient and powerful, and she did not like to be denied.

I expected her to condemn us, to banish us from this island, to do something Circe might have done. Instead, she giggled unnaturally. Then, with a voice as soft as a lullaby, she turned to Odette and posed the question that would shatter whatever illusions I had left.

“Should I tell him? Of the vow you made?

“Poseidon told me, for I am the Oceanid, Calypso, and this is my island. He said he does not release you from your vow. That the man,” a curious look towards me, as if she was unfamiliar with the word, “has done too much damage. That your vow is the retribution.”

Shock rippled through my body as I looked at Odette.

What had she done?

“But,” the nymph continued, “I can find a way to help you.”

“You can?” Odette breathed.

“I will give you the means to return home, to rebuild your life anew.”

Already, Odette was shaking her head. “It won’t work, I’ve already tried …”

Calypso continued, summoning the sands until they took the form of a man and a little boy.

If I had anything to bet with the gods, I’d wager it was Odette’s husband and son .

“I can give you peace in your heart, for as long as you want it.”

“I’m not the same woman,” Odette seemed to plead now, looking towards the sand and air sculptures of her old life … and me.

“Don’t you see?” Calypso asked, still in that childlike sing-song voice that was beginning to irritate me. “It is the loophole in the vow you spoke. You must be able to return home. That way, Poseidon will have no binding cause to keep Odysseus from Ithaca. I can grant him immortality for as long as he stays on this island with me, and once Poseidon’s anger has cooled, he can make his way home again. Or, I’m afraid I will have to cast you both back into the ocean. I don’t want to witness what you two do anymore, if I cannot try it for myself.” She frowned, as if this were an obvious solution; as if she weren’t threatening our very lives.

The decision was clear as day. Odette’s old life, or together to the end.

I thought I knew what she would decide, after all we had been through. Ithaca had always been my goal, my driving force, the thing that had kept me going through all the trials and tribulations, and I had given that up. I had accepted my fate. I had chosen a life with Odette, however little of it was left.

And now I found that there was somehow a vow, that she had made, that had driven us here.

“Odette?”

But before I could voice the thoughts that tore at my heart, I saw it in Odette’s eyes – the decision. I did not need to hear the words; I already knew. I had been played like a pawn in her game. She had plotted the very thing she had been accusing me of this whole time, and I, a damned fool, had ignored my instincts, ignored everything that had served me well in the past – for her.

“Did you really hate me so much you would not see me home to my wife? My family? Knowing how that would wound me? Have I really been so cruel to you that you would leave me here, with her?”

“At least you will be alive. You will have a chance to go home one day,” she tried to reason. “If we leave together now, what hope do we have of surviving Poseidon’s domain?”

“A god’s wrath can last decades, centuries! You know this!” I threw my hands up in the air. “Do not leave me alone on this island, Odette. Do not leave me in this prison of your making, a slave , as you have abhorred. I have accepted my fate. I have chosen you over Ithaca. If you leave me here, I would rather die at sea anyway.”

“And I would see you live long enough that you may return to your family once more. I no longer wish to take that from you,” she whispered, trying to break away.

Instead, I pulled her closer, until our faces were mere inches apart, while Calypso watched on. “If you do this, I’ll not be able to forgive you.”

Tears pooled in her eyes, but she did not let them fall. “As is your right. I would still see you live.”

Then, Odette turned away from me, and whatever fragile connection had entwined us for so long, snapped.

Calypso smiled at her, satisfied in her victory.

The older male sand body began walking towards a small boat that had risen from the depths of the ocean before my very eyes, while the small boyish figure ran forward, beckoning Odette to follow.

Calypso giggled as Odette almost broke into a run, just to see her son’s form once again.

“Uh-uh, there are rules,” Calypso sang, snapping out a hand with unnaturally fast reflexes, to capture Odette’s arm and stop her in her tracks.

“What?” Odette impatiently brushed a tangled curl from her face, and there was a painful spike in my chest as I realised I would never get to do that for her again. That she was robbing us, me, of something I had come to treasure in those few and fleeting moments we’d had alone.

“One, you must return to your village by this boat. Alcander will lead the way. Two, should you change your mind, should you turn back to my island, the sands of time will take your boys as quickly as they appeared, and – poof – Poseidon will claim you as his own. The boat will be nothing but splinters floating on the sea, and you,” – her focus darted over Odette, as if already seeing her drowned and broken body – “will end up shipwrecked, dead, with nothing to show for your sacrifice. We both know how that went for you last time.”

Odette’s jaw clenched ever so slightly. The moment dragged for what felt like an eternity, and then, at last, her chin dipped. A nod so small it could have been imagined, but Calypso saw it, and her cold smile stretched unnaturally. She had what she wanted – an agreement, unspoken but understood – that the broken shell of the man I now was would remain in her possession.

As she led Odette away, towards the conjured boat, the sand statues of Odette’s loved ones already sitting in it, I stood there, muttering a vow of my own.

“Lady Athena, hear my words. May Odette spend the rest of her days with my cool breath on the back of her neck like the wind, forever watching over her shoulder, awaiting my retribution. And when the time is right, by your good graces, may I bury her myself beneath Poseidon’s keep where the water is coldest, so that she may feel the cold she has placed upon my heart, forever in her death.”

Ash, the same grey as Lady Athena’s eyes, plumed from the volcano on the island.

My Lady had heard me.

Pre-order Book Two: Odysseus’ Promise to find out what happens next.