He woke without pain for the first time since leaving home over a decade before. Nothing could make more sense than that.
It gave him peace.
As a child, he had often dreamt of this day and what it would feel like to pass onto eternity. He imagined honor and glory behind him, an endless fate among heroes of the past and future. An afterlife fitting the greatest of men, the most daring and cleverest of heroes was what he strived for his entire life. But he also thought he’d be surrounded by friends and family and even have the chance to look upon his most honorable and glorious enemies and embrace them, knowing they had all been one in the end.
He had assumed death would be clearer, with some kind of demarcation, some boundary to pass, that the gods or some messenger would tell him of his death and where his soul now resided.
But the glimpse he took into the afterlife seemed nothing like this.
This paradise.
Her warm arms wrapped round him and the sun rising over the endless seas gave him peace. She cradled him and it nearly made him laugh. The tiny woman who welcomed him to the afterlife with empathy and compassion held him like he was a child. He lay in her lap, his back propped up onto her breasts, her head and the cloud of black hair resting on his shoulder.
Though he authored so much death and devastation, all was forgiven by the gods. If not, he would be somewhere else, suffering with those forsaken by friends and kin and gods. But this paradise stretching round him, this island surrounded by sea with only a beautiful woman as companion, this paradise was answer enough.
He tried to slip out from her grasp without waking her but her voice came like a whisper heavy with her own dreams. “Not yet.”
He smiled.
Such comforts. He’d heard of an afterlife akin to this. With women bathing and massaging the glorious dead, comforting their bodies but also their minds. An afterlife somewhere between a philosopher’s symposium, a parlor, and a brothel.
He remained with her in the mouth of the cave until morning faded, the sun climbing higher and higher, erasing shadows and burning off the night’s dew.
“Show me your island,” he said when his hunger could wait no more.
“We couldn’t possibly see it all today.” She squeezed and nuzzled into him.
He grew increasingly aware of her body. Her breasts pressed against his back, her thighs cradling him. He recalled her face, her hips, the curve of her jaw and the length of her neck. Closing his eyes, he tried to sink into that feeling, that comfort, and quietly, tentatively, she said, “We could return to the cave for the day.”
Desire swelled within him but there in the blackness behind his eyelids, he saw his dead. They clawed up from the bank but could not escape that infinite river separating the living from the dead. Their voices called out to him.
Captain! Captain!
But even these memories and torments could not cool the heat of his want. He gripped her wrist and gently pulled it away from his chest and felt the pain and hurt in her. And he considered why a woman made to comfort him through eternity would have such strong emotions, such a powerful need. Twisting round, he studied her face. Those large, wide eyes dancing over his own face as if she could memorize him, as if searching for some hint of his feelings.
And she leaned back, spreading her legs wide, but watching him with a fearful need.
It troubled him that the gods believed this was what he desired. Yet desire it he did. His body ached with want and he leaned closer, climbing on top of her, using his knees to keep her thighs wide.
Watching her, he wondered at her fear. Wondered more at how her trembling excited him, fanned the flames of hunger, of passion.
It slowed him. For a moment, he felt unlike himself. Felt the tension in the air, the thick, tackiness of reality when the gods touched down to intercede or intercept his life. It seemed to fall upon him like honey and slowly coat his body. But this was the afterlife. It was no wonder the power of the gods would be present.
He’d spent his life drawn to strength and always sought women who would not bend and break beneath him but who would stand tall against him, when necessary.
Then her name returned to him and his wife’s face and body and voice flooded him and he sucked in a breath, turned away from her.
“What is it?” Her voice filled with poorly masked pain.
He turned back to her. Her body calling him, her face so human, trembling with desire, with rejection.
“Who are you?”
She told him her name once more. That strange rhythmic name that seemed like it could only be hers.
But it was not what he meant.
He turned away from her and sighed.
“What’s wrong?” Her voice touched by pain and want.
It nearly buckled him, sent him reeling back to her, into her. “I will wait for my wife.”
“Your wife?”
“Someday she will meet me here. We will be together again.”
“Oh,” she said. She pulled her legs back together and seemed to shrink beside him. He had hurt her. He saw that. Was plain as anything.
And that troubled him. Confused him.
Why should the spirits of the afterlife care? Was she not simply here to fulfil his wishes?
She said, “She won’t ever come here.”
“Why not.” He did not want to hear the answer. He stood and sighed heavily. “I do not understand this place.” Looking down on her, he waved his arm to the island. “Is this a reward?”
“Yes.” Defensive, deflated, tears in her eyes. “A paradise, for only us two. No one will ever find this place but you and me. No one. Not your wife or anyone else.” Her voice grew in strength as she spoke. “You came here. I don’t know how but there is a reason. This place is a gift for you but you’re a gift for me and I can be a gift for you as well.”
His heart raced and the tacky weight of the godful air clung to him. “Did I die?”
“What?” Genuine confusion on her face, in her voice. “No.” She came towards him and took his hand. “No. You’re alive. We’re both alive.” Pressing his hand to her face, to her cheeks wet with tears, she continued. “We’re here, together forever. I will be yours and you’ll be mine.”
He sighed and shook his head, the weight of his life collapsing upon him once more. His lungs tight and his legs weak, he slumped back down to the dirt of the cave. “I’m alive.”
“You’re alive. You’re here. We can—”
“How do we escape?”
She blinked and cocked her head. “This is paradise. Look around you. Look at me.” She pulled him closer, put a hand to his face. “I will love you and you’ll be mine. I’ll be yours.”
He let her pull him yet closer and placed his other hand flat against the top of her chest. She smiled and it filled him with anger. Blinding hatred. “I am not a thing to be possessed and owned.” He grabbed her throat and began choking her. His hand big enough to wrap round her thin neck. “Tell me how to escape or I’ll kill you here and now.”
Fear rose in her eyes but only for a moment. Her eyebrows came low and her forehead knit with frustration, with anger. Though he squeezed her throat tighter, she spoke anyway. “Goddesses cannot die.”
Sucking in a breath, the air clinging to him, smearing over his skin, rolling down his throat to coat his lungs. His voice came weak and broken. “Goddess.”
Grabbing his wrist, she pulled it from her throat and she stood over him. Gently, she stroked his face. “I will love you. And you will be mine.”