Ares And Mia

Chapter 54

"Checkmate." I blink. I move my king to the side. Phobus slides his queen across the board. "Checkmate." I glare at the chess board, the white and black tiles reflecting my dark expression. There's nowhere left for me to go. I pick up his rook and move it a row down. "You can't do that."

"I can." I insist, moving my king into the available spot. He moves his pawn forward and opens his mouth to speak. I cut him off. "I don't want to play anymore." Phobus laughs, nodding his head.

"Sure, sure." I lay back dramatically on the couch, my terrible efforts displayed before me. How many more years do I have to live to beat a god at chess? Is that even possible?

Do you get better the older you are? That would make sense, in some weird way. 

"Did the dinner really take this long before?" I look at the clock, crossing my arms. The first god-gathering since the war. I wonder how they stomach their food when they were probably sitting next to the being that killed them. Does time take away grudges too?

Phobus tips his head. "Sometimes it drags on when they have things to talk about. And, they definitely do." Phobus, a minor god, could slip through the ranks of gods attending. Ares, on the other hand, couldn't. He sure did a lot of grumbling before going, insisting that he wasn't needed. I had to literally push him out the door just for him to go. 

So, we staked out our little night in his office. It has always been comforting. Maybe it's the memories here that keep me at peace.

"You know, if you have something you want to talk about, I'm all ears." Phobus has been my therapist of sorts. Said he got a license a few decades back—just because he could. He's been trying his best, but sometimes, I just feel like my words don't make any sense.

When I say something, it just doesn't... It doesn't feel like I'm sane. 

I have... so much to say. I'm literally overflowing with words, with confusion, with such intense trauma—that I can't seem to find a way to let it out. Instead, I feel like I'm suspended by some unstable energy. I'm not sure if it's immortality or just my fear, but it's real and it's pumping through my veins. All the terror, the bundled-up petrification, the screams I heard during the war. 

How can I ever put that into words?

"Does being immortal mean that your memories stay with you forever?" All of it is in me. Everything I saw, everything I felt. The beings that died, the taste of the soil, the chasm that the Titans came out of. Ichor on my armor, Chaos's bargain, the Time Pools. How could I put that into words? Should I say that 'it bothers me' that I'm having nightmares? Would that ever measure up to everything that happened? No. 

It doesn't capture a fraction of what I feel. 

All of it is trapped in my chest, competing for space with my lungs. And sometimes, it wins. Until it crushes my throat and I have to fight for breath, my mind spiraling to find the root of the fear—my memories.

"No. As they said," Phobus starts rearranging the pieces on the chess board. "Time heals all." I don't think I believe him. 

I want to, but I can't help but feel like I'll carry it all with me. And if I do? If I forget all the deaths that I caused, the mayhem that followed my existence? Wouldn't that make me worse than the Titans themselves? To brush everything off--I feel like I have to pay for what I've done. I have to pay for being the Prophecy Girl. The God Killer. That one, I inhaled sharply, that one I despised. 

God Killer, as if I were a murderer out for blood the shade of the purest gold. I didn't think that I would kill her—I didn't think that I could. I had nearly lost my life fighting against her, the first god that ever hurt me. Eris. I wonder if she's back.