Everlasting

The sun beat down upon the battle. Sweat was dripping from the bodies of bruised men as they continued to swing their swords towards their enemy. Metal was meeting metal as cries of agony left the lips of dying men. Slowly, yet surely, the men were rescued and taken into the safety their camp offered.

Throughout the camp, women scurried about. Currently, the vast majority of the female population was gravitating around the nursing tent. Within the past day, the disagreement has erupted into a blood bath. The Apollonian forces were decreasing at a steady rate and reinforcements were still a three days ride away.

Older women called the gory scene less than a mile from them an act of Ares himself. The very thought scared many into silence. All but one woman shuttered in fear. She was a beautiful young maiden known as Iris. The young woman scoffed at the theory her kin made. In her mind, Ares was nothing more than a child throwing an endless tantrum demanding unrestricted attention.

Her people, the Apollonian’s, had sought out the leaders of their neighboring town, Dimale, in hopes of creating an alliance. Despite having common roots, the two tribes disagreed on many points and tempers were continuously flaring. Negations had been in the works for three days before the fighting began. It was on the fourth morning the bloodshed erupted.

Phineas, the second in command to the Apollonian forces, began the trek to the other side. Along his way, he was met by a strange man. In his eyes, there was a glint of mischief and an unfathomable intensity. Phineas tore his eyes from the threatening man and continued on his way. Within mere moments, his breast was pierced by a sword. He collapsed to his knees, arching his head to look into the eyes of his murderer. The man had the same glint in his eyes as the strange man. Phineas collapsed to the ground as his soldiers sprinted into action, their swords drawn. If it was a battle they wanted, then it was a battle they would get.

Iris shuffled around the tent, dropping water down the throats of the injured. Their deaths were inevitable, but she tried her best to make their remaining time upon the surface as comfortable as possible. Around the camp, there were a few men. These men had been given strict orders to stay with the women and injured. One of them, a man named Lysander, strolled about the tent, his green orbs fixated on the figure quenching the thirst of his friends and neighbors.

Iris had always found Lysander to be peculiar. He would disappear for large periods of time without word of where he was going. When he would reappear, he seemed to have a glow upon his skin. Many women swooned over the man, but Iris always found his ways to be quite unappealing. She did admit to herself that he was easy on the eyes, but that was about it. He was known for his short temper and being overly stubborn. The two had never properly spoken, much to Iris’ delight.

Once she was done giving the men water, she set the nearly empty pail down. She wiped the sweat from her brow, breathing in a chest full of fresh air. Glancing up at the sky, she analyzed the position of the sun, deciding that it was after midday. Her mind began to wonder, thinking about her family back home that was currently safe and unaware of the disaster that was surrounding their children. Thinking about her home caused a pang of hurt to jab Iris in her stomach.

“Iris?” A man’s deep voice questioned.

She turned around to respond, meeting the gaze of Lysander with ease. “What is it Lysander?” she asked.

He continued to study her, his eyes flashing silver and gold. His skin seemed to vibrate and emit a light. Iris shook her head in disbelief. She had not had much water in the past day; perhaps she was just having a delusion? ‘It is impossible that this man was glowing, unless he was- No,’ she thought, ‘there is no possibility.’

“Iris, I have some,” He paused selecting his words carefully, “business I need to tend to right away.”

Anger poured from Iris as she spoke, “Look here, our friends and family are out there sacrificing their lives! The least you could do is stay here, but of course you are a coward and would rather run than face the reality that is growing closer and closer by the hour!”

He grabbed her roughly by the arm, eyes hard. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with girl,” he growled. “I could end all of you without even flinching. Yet here you stand, making judgments of me? Child, you have much to learn.”

He released her arm and stormed away. At his retreating shadow, Iris called out, “Who do you think you are Ares or something?”

The man briefly turned around with a smile on his face before turning around the corner. Iris rolled her brown eyes before returning to the aid of her people. Her conversation with Lysander was rushing around her mind. A man grasping her arm snapped her back to reality. She looked at him questionably, not recognizing the man.

She opened her mouth to ask him who he was when she noticed the crazed look in his still eyes. Iris tried to take a step away, but felt an astonishing pain in her abdomen. Glancing down, she noticed the source of her discomfort. Pulling the knife from a few inches from her heart, she collapsed to the ground clenching her wound. All around her, the world was spinning. Voices sounded distant and abnormal. Her world remained a mess of shapes until a man with piercing green eyes picked up her limp body.

“Iris!” He yelled. She looked at him through heavy eyelids.

“Sir? Sir could you,” She gasped in pain, feeling her life slip from her grasp, “could you find Lysander? Please?”

A look of confusion flashed through his bright eyes before realization struck him. “Iris, it’s me. It’s Lysander,” he hurriedly explained.

A soft laugh escaped her lips. Shaking her head left and right, she murmured, “No. Lysander’s hair is brown, not black. And he would never wear such an outfit.”

He placed a hand to her temple and images flashed through her mind. Decades upon decades flowed through her mind in mere seconds. She groaned as her mind became overloaded. The man removed his hand, waiting for her response.

“Ares, that is who you truly are? I would have never guessed,” she confessed, a slight smile on her now pale face.

The crowd surrounded the pair gasped and backed away a few paces, not waiting to be the fool that angered the god of war. Iris’ living moments were vanishing at an alarming rate. Her beautiful, yet brief life was quickly meeting its end.

He needed to save her. He was beyond the point of desperation. He loved her. He truly felt love towards this girl. Ares refused to let her die. Despite his protests, the Fates cut the last shred of her thread. Her limp body settled into his arms for a few moments before he set her down and left in a fury.

He arrived in his father’s palace in a fraction of a second, shoving the doors open to reveal his awaiting father.

“Bring her back!” He demanded.

“I cannot, Ares. The Fates cannot reunite a thread once it has been cut,” Zeus responded.

“But I love her,” Ares hissed. His fists were clenched at his sides.

Zeus sighed and rubbed his hands together. “I cannot bring her back to life, but I can bring her soul back to life.” Ares looked at the king of gods in confusion. “I can place her soul, her spirit, into the body of another. She would be a new person with new thoughts and a new face, but on the inside she would be the same,” Zeus explained.

Ares nodded his head in understanding. “Would she love me once again?” he asked with uncertainty.

“You would have to reawaken the love within her,” Zeus replied.

Ares nodded, “Do it Father. It does not matter how many lifetimes it takes, one day, we will be together once again.”

Zeus placed a hand on his son’s shoulder, “I did not realize that I had split a soul between you two. Your love with her is eternal and everlasting.”

Ares pulled away from his father’s grasp and announced, “Well, I best start searching for her right away. I know not where she is.”

And with that, he was off in search of his newly reborn love.