Chapter 18 - The Child of Two Worlds
Gold rushed across the chamber floor.
Zeus raised his hand to direct it toward the breach. Apollo cried harder, and the light struck the wall instead. The rock shook.
“Stop,” Felix said.
“If I stop, it opens,” Zeus answered.
“Look at him.”
Apollo was a baby in his mother’s arms, exhausted and frightened. His power answered what he felt. Each time the chamber jolted, he panicked; each time he panicked, the light struck blindly.
Felix lowered himself until his face was close to Apollo’s.
“I’m here,” he said.
Betsy held the child so he could see Felix clearly. She began the soft tune she sang at bedtime, though her voice trembled. Apollo listened. His crying slowed.
The light steadied around them.
Zeus lowered his hand. For the first time, he waited.
Felix touched the seal on the floor with one hand and let Apollo hold the other. He felt the threshold beneath the stone, immense and restless. The old keepers had held it shut through force. Apollo’s touch showed him another way: the opening could be guided toward the shape of a door, then closed.
“He’s showing me where the edge is,” Felix said.
“Can you hold it?” Zeus asked.
“Help me, and let him lead.”
Zeus set his palm on the opposite side of the seal. Lightning flowed from him into the carved lines, bright but contained. Betsy kept singing. Apollo’s hand rested securely in Felix’s.
The breach narrowed.
Outside, the shapes at the creek drew back. The people watching saw the long seam in the sky contract to a single shining point.
Felix felt a pull on his arm. The old inscription had warned him he might be lost beyond. For an instant, he saw how easily he could surrender to it and leave the rest to Zeus.
Apollo gripped his finger.
Felix thought of the cradle upstairs and the breakfast table with two mugs. He thought of Betsy opening the guest room door to find him asleep in the hall.
“I’m staying,” he whispered.
He drew his hand toward him. Zeus held the other side of the seal firm. Apollo made a small, determined sound, and the final line of light folded inward.
The chamber went quiet.
For several breaths, no one moved. Then Apollo yawned.
Betsy let out a laugh that turned into tears. She held him against her chest. Felix sat on the floor, too tired to stand.
Zeus looked at his hands. The lightning had faded. He went to the passage and saw the ordinary sky above the creek.
“It’s closed,” he said.
“Good,” Betsy answered.
Zeus returned. His gaze rested on Apollo, who was falling asleep to the last lines of Betsy’s song.
“I tried to make him use his power,” Zeus said. “He couldn’t understand what I wanted.”
“He understood us,” Felix replied. “We made it safe enough for him to try.”
The words settled between them. Outside, the townspeople began calling to one another, checking who needed help.
Betsy looked at Felix. “Can you stand?”
“With help.”
She offered her free hand. Zeus offered his as well. Felix took Betsy’s first, then accepted Zeus’s.
They walked out together. Mrs. Hart waited by the creek, muddy to the knees. When she saw Apollo sleeping, she pressed a hand to her mouth.
May you like
The ridge was still. Water ran over the stones. The first sunlight of evening touched the fields below.
Felix knew the danger might leave questions for years to come. For now, Apollo was safe, and no one asked the child to do anything more.
