A look of sadness crossed over Gaia’s eyes, but she managed a loving smile. “You do not have to speak of her if it brings you pain.”
“I am cursed with the heart of a romantic fool,” he sighed.
“But that is what makes you such a wonderful artist,” she pointed out. “Your eyes see things that others cannot.”
David looked up at her in surprise. “My word, I’d forgotten…”
“You no longer paint?”
“There are many things I no longer do,” he admitted.
“Painting was your favorite pastime! What do you do instead?”
David considered the question for a moment before he answered. “Brood,” he said earnestly before letting out a laugh.
She joined him for a moment, the sound filling the chamber with merriment. Then she leaned forward to take his hands, her face somber. Her eyes poured into his. “I am so deeply sorry your life turned out the way it did. I wish I could have helped you. I would have, had I known, but once I entered the Underworld, I drank from the River Lethe and forgot who I was. When I entered Heaven, my memories returned, but I quickly discovered you had long moved on.”
“So you know about my past and the seemingly endless struggle with my brother.”
“I learned everything,” she confirmed. “It was heartbreaking to watch—not the discovery that you love another woman, but that you’ve been so unhappy for so long. I thought many times you’d step out into the sun.”
David was quiet.
Gaia leaned back, folding her hands in her lap with a sigh. “I wonder if you and your brother were even meant to split at the dawn of time. Perhaps that is the reason she loves you both, constantly torn. Maybe even the Great She was intended to be one soul. There was just never an opportunity for discord between sisters. Isis’s soul was split so soon, but both you and Lucius loved her at different points in time as well.”
David considered her words. It was hard to imagine she’d been there through it all. “So you see all that transpires on earth?” he asked.
“Well, I do not spy, if that is what you ask,” she replied with a playful smile. “I can only see your life, and I only listen when important things come to pass. I suppose that even though I am content in this realm, I feel I should look out for you.”
David smiled.
“And I still hold a piece of Isis’s soul, so I have her memories as well, like pictures floating by. I’m sure Sandrine must feel the same way.”
“Sandrine?” David looked at her, confused. “Cahira’s friend from Paris?”
Gaia searched his eyes. “I thought you knew.”
“Isn’t Cahira connected to Isis, which is why she can command the earth? Imperium de Terra, as Libraean calls it.”
“Cahira inherited Isis’s powers, not her soul,” Gaia corrected him.
David was taken aback. “How does Sandrine have it?”
“Lucius was not the first creature to try to siphon the magic out of the acacia tree Isis once inhabited,” she explained. “Long before that, a shaman from Egypt stole a branch. He took it all the way to Africa, claiming a voice told him to bring her spirit there. Although it was never recorded in human records, there was once a cult near the Kingdom of Dahomey that worshiped Isis. They channeled her spirit out of the branch, attempting to funnel it into a young girl strong enough to bear it. Unfortunately, they failed numerous times, and gave up as each girl went mad. Centuries later, a priestess decided to revive the old ways and found a girl to try the ancient practice on again. Miraculously, it worked. The soul piece needed a body strong enough to house it—and found it in the reincarnated goddess Medusa.”
“I had no idea,” David murmured. “All this time, we thought it was Cahira.”
“Of course, before any of this, Discordia stole Isis’s power, and she and Lucius created Cahira’s bloodline. Her power comes from them, which is why it’s so volatile. Sandrine is strong in her own right, but gained a bit of heka from Isis’s soul. Fortunately, the two have naturally found each other, Sandrine acting as a buffer for Cahira’s darker impulses.”
“Does she know who she is?” David asked. “Does Cahira know?”
Before she could reply, a tiny voice broke in. “Mama?”
David jumped to his feet. He spun to behold a small boy with bouncy blonde curls and bright green eyes. He nearly fell to his knees as the child brushed past him, settling into Gaia’s arms before he looked up at him. This can’t be real.
“Lucius told me you weren’t with child,” David managed to whisper, his entire body trembling. “He said Libraean was deceived, that it was not true.”
Gaia merely smiled, running her fingers through the boy’s sandy blonde locks as he pressed into her. He apprehended David with curious eyes, a muted shade of green. “Who are you?” he asked.
Gaia spoke into his ear. “That is your ater.”
David’s flesh prickled at the Gaulish word, even more so when the child gazed at him shyly behind blonde lashes like his mother. “Hello.”
“Hello,” David whispered.
“Do you want to see my treehouse?”
“Isn’t this a treehouse?”
“No, I mean my treehouse,” the child clarified.
Gaia met David’s eyes. “We can talk more later. Enjoy your time with him. He shifts in age, but he chose to meet you as a child. I would take advantage.”
The boy stood, smiling up at David as he grabbed his hand. “Come, this way.”
CHAPTER 2
THE MORNING STAR THE ATLANTIC OCEAN, 1857
