Archive of Our Own

“She’s an alpha,” the doctor muttered reverently. Wrapping the little blanket back around like a cocoon, he passed the newborn off to her mother. The little infant’s cries died down as her mother’s familiar scent washed over her. A pair of yellow-green eyes stared owlishly before a stubby little hand reached out. 

Ophelia looked down at the child in her arms. That small tuft of blonde hair matched her own, but those eyes undeniably came from her husband—her mate. Adonis stood near the bed, knuckles white from his iron-clad grip on the bed frame. With a shaky sigh of relief, he reached one hand up to brush back his own sandy brown bangs. 

Turning to his wife, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to Ophelia’s damp forehead. “A perfect daughter, born from the perfect mate,” he whispered. “Mnestia’s legacy carries on.” 

i

“Don’t slouch.” 

Aglaea straightened upon hearing her etiquette teacher’s harsh tone. She raised her chin and subtly sucked in her stomach, daring to take only the shallowest of breaths under such scrutiny. Though she could not afford to look away, she brushed a hand along the leg of her pants. They seam was sharply creased, as if it had just come off the loom. She could feel a little sweat building up around her collar, but she hoped her shoulder-length blonde hair kept most of the evidence hidden. 

“You are ten, almost eleven, yet I’ve seen newborns with better posture than you,” the teacher sneered. His face was wrinkled with age, and his once black hair had long since faded into grey. His eyes traced every inch of Aglaea’s body, appraising her through his glasses. He was a beta. Yet unlike how the textbooks claimed, his scent was not muted. At such a close proximity, his scent was unpleasant, like that of a musty, old library that hadn’t been dusted for years. 

The old man’s nose twitched as he leaned in. “Never,” he practically growled, “let anyone smell your fear. Especially not another alpha.” To emphasize his point, he suddenly stuck out a hand, seizing Aglaea’s neck. His thumb dug harshly into one of her scent glands. 

The girl’s knees gave out as she was hit with a wave of nausea. As she fell, she caught a glimpse of two others standing in the corner next to a wardrobe. It was her parents. For a moment, Aglaea deluded herself into hoping that one of them would intervene, but they remained as distant as their scents. It was only when her teacher let go of her neck that she felt like she could finally breathe again. Without another word, nor a single glance back, he walked out of the room. 

“Aglaea,” her father’s smooth, calculated voice called out. His black suit was immaculate, and the scent of cold steel became more prominent as he walked over. The older alpha simply stood and watched as his daughter staggered back to her feet. “Do you think this is a joke? That we spend all this money for your education and development so you can have fun?” 

“N-no, Father.” 

Adonis’ face twisted into a deep frown, one side curled in disgust. He grabbed Aglaea’s chin and forcefully turned her head to face him. “If you want to be the next head of this family, then I admonish you to act like it.” Aglaea nodded her head in shame. 

“Darling, don’t be so rough with her,” Aglaea’s mother intervened. She crossed the room as swiftly as her tight, red, floor-length dress would allow. The omega’s fragrant, lilac scent brought a slight comfort to the girl. That comfort was quickly lost as Ophelia continued. “Aglaea,” she spoke seriously, kneeling down so she could look her daughter in the eyes. She set her small handbag next to her on the floor. “What your father means is that we expect great things from you.” 

Ophelia straightened the lapels of Aglaea’s blazer, patting down and smoothing out the evidence of her earlier stumble. “A child destined for a higher station in life like you is, perhaps, a once in a universe miracle.” 

“An alpha.” The woman brushed a hand over the front of Aglaea’s pants. 

“A mirror image of Mnestia Themself.” The woman ran a hand through Aglaea’s blonde hair, the other coming up to her cheek to brush the fair skin under those yellow-green irises. 

“And golden blood to claim your divinity.” The woman drew a needle from her handbag, taking one of Aglaea’s hands and pricking a finger. All three watched as a single drop of golden ichor began to surface. 

“Any omega would be honored to have the privilege of being your mate,” Adonis declared. His tone left no room for argument, and one of his arms came to rest possessively around Ophelia’s shoulders. “Which is why you must look and act the part. If you leave room for doubt—if you fail to establish your dominance—then you’ll have only yourself to blame when someone else seizes the throne.” 

Ostensibly, surrounded by the strong scents of her parents, Aglaea should feel confident and reassured. Instead, she felt like was suffocating. She once more took shallow breaths, through her nose this time. She plastered a small, picture-perfect smile over her lips, nodding along to her father’s words. 

Ophelia rose back to her feet, accepting Adonis’ offered hand for support. “Come along now, my dear,” she beckoned, already turning and walking toward the door. “Octavian will be here shortly, so make sure your sword is polished.”

ii

The west side of Dolos was undeniably the worst part of the city. There, where the sun rose the latest, the residents had grown used to slinking about in the shadows. They thrived in the darkness, where their sleights of hand and petty brawls went largely ignored by the local authorities. At least, that’s what east-siders always say. 

Cipher found her neighbors to be pleasant enough, but that may just be because her granny was the only person who would make and sell clothes for a reasonable price in the area. Not fair prices, of course, but certainly more affordable than any of those high-end boutiques. You get a little less than what you pay for, and that’s already a better deal than half the nearby stores. 

That same mentality was shared by whoever was in charge of the local school. Well, calling it a school would be generous. If not for the two walls that were added in the corner some twenty-or-so years after the initial construction, it would be a one-room schoolhouse. There were about fifty kids in the class, ages ranging from five to seventeen. Most of them were orphans. Some of them were lucky, like Cipher, and had a family to go home to. But only the really lucky kids had parents who could afford to send them to one of the local private schools. 

Where other classes took field trips and explored the city or even Amphoreus, Cipher’s school planned entire festivals around painting the walls a new color. That was a day which made her very glad neither she nor her granny got stuck smelling like paint. 

Cipher’s tail thumped back and forth against the wall of her bedroom, fiddling with a deck of cards in her hands. She lay on her bed, flat on her stomach, chin resting on the pillow. After coming home from school, the nine-year-old had much to think about. 

Today had been a school day that began just like any other. 

One moment, Cipher was scratching away at her workbook, trying to recall her multiplication table. The next, a thick, heavy scent of cinnamon enveloped her, the same way a hand unexpectedly grabbed her tail. She yowled in alarm, hair raised, ears flying up, and her tail fighting to free itself. 

As she wrenched her tail out of the offending grasp, Cipher realized it was her seat mate, a fifteen-year-old girl named Callista. She looked. . .awful. Her cheeks were flushed, and a layer of sweat had formed on her skin. Her eyes were slightly glazed, and she took quick, heaving breaths as if she were panting after running a marathon. 

It took but a moment for the teacher to notice. Perhaps because she was a beta, Ms. Rodis did not immediately pick up on the strong wave of cinnamon that blanketed the surrounding seats. But once the teacher did arrive, she swiftly got Callista onto her feet and practically dragged her toward the office in the corner. 

The class got an extra recess that day. Cipher spent it hunting for treasure. She stuffed a few buttons and trinkets into her shorts’ pockets to take home. Her granny would appreciate the buttons, but the girl would need a bribe of the highest order to part ways with anything else. 

Upon returning to the classroom, Ms. Rodis announced a change of plans. Arithmetic was postponed to tomorrow, and there’d be a 'special biology lesson’ today. Many of the older kids grumbled in annoyance, but the younger kids cheered. One of the teacher’s aides led all the younger kids outside to go explore the nearby woods. Cipher hopped out of her seat and moved to follow. 

“No, not you Cifera,” the aide politely turned her away at the door. “You’re old enough to stay this year.” Cipher’s tail drooped before lashing in frustration. Now that the aide’s attention was on her, it would also be difficult—though not impossible—to sneak out. Ultimately, she decided it wasn’t worth it, shuffling back to her seat. 

“Being an omega sounds like it sucks.” There was no one in the bedroom to hear Cipher, but she’d never been one to wait for permission from others to speak. Heat cycles every two months sounded bad enough, even more so if all omegas became as pathetic as Callista had when she’d presented in class today. 

Cipher pulled a card from her deck. Ace of Spades. Depending on who you ask, the ace could be the highest value card or the lowest. In a way, Cipher was just like that ace. Everyone who hadn’t yet presented was like that ace, actually. The only people lucky enough to know from birth their station in life were female alphas and male omegas. “‘Because that’s the magic of biology,’” Cipher mimicked Ms. Rodis’ words from her special lesson in an exaggeratedly nasal voice. 

For Cipher, she would be either a beta or an omega, and she definitely had a preference. If she were a beta, then she could spend the rest of her life living as she had done for the nine years up until now: not giving a damn about the social implications of one’s dynamic. Really, she had far more pressing social issues to worry about, like the dwindling zoion population. Her ears twitched involuntarily at the reminder of how it was becoming less and less common to see people with animal traits. Or how the city-states of Amphoreus could be neatly divided into two: those in support of the Chrysos Heirs, and those who wanted to kill them. 

The cat-eared girl hopped off her bed and ran down the stairs to where her granny was knitting by the fireplace. “Granny!” She flopped onto the elderly woman’s lap, taking delight in the way the ball of yarn went flying. Cipher credited her self-control for the fact that she did not go running after the ball. 

“Oh dear, there goes my yarn,” Annas lamented. Still, she made no move to get up, instead patting her granddaughter’s head in greeting. Cipher snuggled in closer. Her granny was a beta, so her scent was usually hard to distinguish unless they were right next to each other like this. Her granny’s smelled faintly of grapes. “Is something the matter, Cifera? Does it have to do with that special lesson you had today?” 

“Yeah. Kind of.” Cipher shrugged as best she could, eventually wriggling around until she was face to face with her granny. “How did you deal with it?” 

“Deal with what?” Annas’ hand stilled, now resting on Cipher’s shoulder. 

“The wait before you found out that you were a beta.” The girl looked at her grandmother with earnest eyes, searching for an answer that would soothe her worries. 

“Hmm.” Annas’ lips drew into a flat line. “I think you’re still far too young to be worrying about such nonsense.” 

“But, Granny,” Cipher whined. 

Annas cut her off. “Cifera, you’re still a kid. You should be thinking about kid things and enjoying your youth while you still have it.” Cipher’s grandmother pulled the girl up into a proper hug, patting her gently on the back. “There’s no need for you to rush to grow up.” With some effort, the woman stood, girl still in her arms. For a moment, Annas wobbled unsteadily, so much that Cipher clung on tightly. But the woman eventually stabilized and shuffled toward the bookshelf. “Come now. Why don’t you pick out a story for us to read?” 

iii 

Cipher peeked out from the closet, ears swiveling as she strained to hear anything. It was silent. Too silent. She didn’t know whether she preferred that or the screams. When that hooded man suddenly appeared at the city square, the people of Dolos had only a second’s warning before he dropped a meteor on them. Even from across the city, Cipher and her Granny heard the explosion. They’d felt the heat emanating from the blast zone, and the shockwaves had knocked several picture frames off the wall. 

That was when the alarms and sirens went off. When Cipher practiced safety drills at school, she’d always thought they were in case of a war with another city-state. She’d never imagined that one person could cause just as much destruction. Even when her granny shoved her into the closet, the feline zoion thought the chaos and fighting wouldn’t make it into the slums. 

With slow, cautious movements, Cipher pushed open the closet door. What was once her and her granny’s humble abode now lay in ruins. A pile of rubble marked where the east wall had been. The remnants of the north and west walls were charred, partially melted from the heat of that demon’s attack. 

She slunk through the collapsed cottage, eyes scanning the ground for any items to scavenge. There were a few coins here and there. She shoved them into her pockets. When she made it to where she approximated the living room would be, Cipher let out a horrified shriek. “Granny!” She darted toward the corner, kicking aside books and other debris, sliding down onto her knees next to a prone figure. 

Her granny was face-down, her bloody head resting next to a large boulder. It must have been blown into their home from the attack. The lower half of Annas’ body was similarly buried underneath rubble. Cipher didn’t dare move anything, in case her granny was miraculously still alive. She waited for a few moments, which turned into seconds and then minutes. But nothing happened. 

Cipher realized then the horrible truth. Her granny was dead. But why did she shove me into the closet and leave? Why didn’t she stay with me where it was safe? Why did she abandon me? Tears welled in the girl’s eyes as she fought back a sob. She momentarily let go of her self-control, turning toward the boulder and punching it. 

Her hand stung, but that physical pain paled in comparison to her grief. Her frustration only grew upon realizing she’d cut her hand, that golden blood lightly oozing from the wound. Cursing, Cipher looked for something to wrap around her hand as a bandage. Despite Annas running a weave shop, the place was now ironically devoid of any smaller pieces of cloth. 

Left with no other choice, Cipher examined her granny’s body for any clothes she could pilfer. The scarf around her neck is the best option. As she set to work carefully unwrapping the scarf, the girl noticed that her granny was not empty-handed. In fact, both hands were occupied. In granny’s left hand was a now tattered picture book. Cipher instantly recognized it as her favorite, with that familiar tabby cat on the front. So that’s why. Granny must’ve wanted to grab that book so we could read while hiding. 

Annas’ right hand was clenched into a fist, but the fist was loose enough that there must have been something inside. It was a somewhat large coin, black as its base with a wide, toothy grin and a singular, teal-colored eye. Cipher recognized that, too. Modeled after Zagreus’ Coin of Whimsy, she’d made that thing in school. She hadn’t thought much of it, but her granny clearly valued it enough to look for the coin even on the brink of calamity. 

The book was too tattered to take, but Cipher pocketed the coin. Wrapping the scarf around her hand, both to protect the cuts from dirt and to conceal her golden blood, the girl stood. With most buildings razed to the ground, it wouldn’t be difficult to spot other survivors poking around for salvaged goods. 

As expected, it took Cipher only about thirty minutes of wandering before she found a group of fellow Dolosians. From the looks of it, they’d all taken cover in bunkers. Well-equipped bunkers. She estimated there were about thirty of them, along with two carts of supplies, in addition to whatever they carried in their bags. 

Cipher ran up to the group, beelining for the man who seemed to be giving the others orders. But before she could even open her mouth, one of the other men spotted her and moved to block her path. “Why don’t you scram? We don’t need strays like you bogging us down.” 

“I won’t ‘bog you down,’” Cipher hissed, immediately going on the defensive. “My hand is only lightly cut. It’ll heal by tomorrow.” She nearly held her hand out as proof, but she quickly withdrew it. She didn’t need any busybodies trying to unwrap the scarf. 

The man scoffed. “We don’t give a damn about your hand. Unless you’ve got something hiding in those shorts, we don’t got no need for girls like you.” It was only then that Cipher realized how few women and girls were in this group. From just a quick glance, there were maybe two or three. Everyone else was a man or a boy. 

Cipher’s nose twitched as she sniffed the air. She’d initially thought the heavy scents were due to the carnage. Now that she was standing next to these people, it was obvious that several of them were intentionally pumping out pheromones. Even having not presented yet and thus having a harder time discerning scents and dynamics, she could tell that none of refugees were omegas. 

As more and more of the group began to notice her presence, Cipher didn’t respond to the man right away. Instead, she weighed her options. Granny always said there’s safety in numbers, but these peoples’ attitudes are pretty bad. They don’t want me here, and I wouldn’t put it past them to kill me in my sleep. 

“Your loss, then.” Cipher turned around and began walking away, making sure to keep her head held high and her posture relaxed. So what if those jerks didn’t want her? I’ll just have to make it to safety on my own, then. 

iv

Aglaea awoke with a pounding headache. For a moment, the only thing she could smell was thick, heavy smoke. She tried to clear the air with her hands, but she couldn’t move them. Or, rather, she lacked the strength to move them. Even turning her head to glance down at her arms was cumbersome. 

“Please, don’t move,” an unfamiliar, childish voice called out. Startled, Aglaea nearly screamed, but her dry throat transformed the yell into a coughing fit. She heard a slight flutter of wings as a glass of water was suddenly thrust into her face. Once able, she took a few, painful sips. Her throat still felt impossibly dry, but at least she could breathe without feeling like she was suffocating. 

As more and more of Aglaea’s conscious and awareness returned, she noted that she was in a hospital room. It was quite large with lavish, gilded decorations. It was not unlike the rooms in the private wing of the Marmoreal Hospital that her family owned. In fact, now that she got a clearer look at those pristine white walls, floor-to-ceiling window, and advanced medical instruments, the blonde became certain that it was one of those rooms. 

Having confirmed her location, Aglaea finally turned her attention to the person who had spoken. Just as the voice indicated, the speaker was evidently a child. She was short with similarly short red hair, but large purple-colored irises. She wore a little white dress, with a pair of wings at her back. Said child put the glass of water on the bedside table. 

“You’re awake!” the child shouted with undue enthusiasm. Frankly, Aglaea didn’t understand what the cause for celebration was. The two didn’t even know each other. So, the blonde simply nodded her head once in acknowledgment. The red-haired child stared at Aglaea with a bright smile, seemingly waiting for something more. Then, the child startled. “Oh! That’s right. My name’s Tribbie! It’s nice to meet you!” 

This ‘Tribbie’ person had an odd scent. She smelled faintly of freshly cut wood, but the scent was diluted. It wasn’t diluted in the way a beta’s scent becomes more muted after presenting. Rather, it was as if the child in front of her was not a complete person. It put Aglaea on edge. Why has someone so young already presented into an omega? Is she one of the Council’s little experiments? 

“Um, your name is Aglaea, right?” Now the child finally lost her smile, frowning as her voice took on a hesitant tone. 

Well, if Tribbie was going to kill her, she had plenty of time to do so prior to Aglaea waking up. “Yes, it is.” 

Tribbie fiddled with her hands for a moment before asking, “What’s the last thing you remember? Also, is it okay if we call you Agy?” ‘We’? As far as the blonde could tell, she and this red-haired child were the only people in the room. 

“The fire. And, no.” Aglaea tried to shuffle around on the hospital bed, searching for the bell to ring for a nurse’s assistance. 

“The fire? Oh no! That means you slept through the entire. . .” Tribbie trailed off, now hovering anxiously a few feet off the ground. 

Whatever the child might have said next was cut off by the door to the room opening. Aglaea hoped it would be a nurse. She was let down when instead a short, bluish-white-haired girl walked in accompanied, by a dark brown-haired woman. The shorter one carried herself with an air of authority, befitting of the crown she wore. The woman had pieces of armor on her shins and forearms, most likely the bodyguard of the other. 

“Status report,” the crowned girl prompted. She sounded more mature than Aglaea expected, and her presence brought in the muted scent of a pine tree. She’d only ever smelled a scent like that when her father took her to the northern regions of Amphoreus to meet a potential mate. Aglaea didn’t recall ever meeting a noble who looked like this other girl, though. Perhaps the other girl’s parents already knew she’d become a beta. 

“Who are you?” Whether they’d ever met before or not, Aglaea didn’t appreciate this other person acting as if she wasn’t there. As if she wasn’t a person who could engage in conversation and speak for herself. 

“The Imperator did not give you permission to speak,” the brunette woman swiftly replied. She took a step forward, hand on the hilt of the sword at her waist, as if prepared to strike at Aglaea even though she was presently confined to the bed. The blonde flinched, a memory of Octavian swinging his sword at her neck flashing through her vision. 

“Hysilens! Don’t be mean, she just woke up!” Tribbie tried to play peacemaker, even fluttering over so that she was between the brunette and the hospital bed. Only once Hysilens took her hand off the hilt did the child land back on the floor. Tribbie shifted her attention to the pine-tree-scented girl, answering the earlier inquiry. “The medical report lists her as an alpha, aged twelve. She says that she’s Aglaea, but we haven’t been able to ask about anything else yet.” 

The apparent Imperator hummed in acknowledgment. “Very well, Dux Fatorum. There is only one way to know for certain that we have the right girl.” Without even receiving a command, Hysilens drew her sword and took two strides to reach the bedside. Aglaea’s protests and attempts to fight back were fruitless. The brunette grabbed her hand, making a single, small cut across her palm. Everyone watched as gold dripped out. 

“So the rumors were true.” Hysilens’ voice was soft, as if she hadn’t just made Aglaea bleed on purpose. The brunettes’ scent ebbed and flowed in waves, as if she did not yet have a firm command of her pheromones. It was fitting, then, that she smelled like how Aglaea imagined the depths of the ocean would, the stench of fish and aftertaste of salt included. How odd for a female alpha to have such loose control of her scent. She should have learned how to manage her pheromones as a child like the rest of us. 

“It seems that we owe you a more formal introduction.” The Imperator stood up straight, adjusting her crown. “My name is Cerydra, the Imperator and leader of the Flame-Chase Journey.” Her expression remained serious, appraising the bedridden girl with calculating eyes. 

“We’re Tribios, the Holy Maiden of Janusopolis! Or, a piece of her, anyway. You can call me Tribbie!” The priest’s demeanor was a stark contrast to the Imperator’s, all sunshine and rainbows. Aglaea looked forward to digging into what Tribbie meant by “piece.” 

“I am Helektra, but on land I go by Hysilens.” Aglaea couldn’t help but glare at Hysilens, still wary after the woman’s threat and for making her bleed. 

The blonde took a moment to not be a hypocrite and get her own pheromones under control. It was a bit easier now that she knew these three intruders’ names, but it didn’t make her any less skeptical. “I do not see what any of that has to do with me.” 

The trio exchanged looks. After a look from the Imperator and a slight nudge from Hysilens, Tribbie clarified. “Like you, we’re all Chrysos Heirs.” Upon realizing that this statement was not as enlightening as she intended, the child grabbed Hysilens’ sword and made a similar cut on her own hand. Aglaea gasped upon seeing golden blood. 

It was the Imperator’s turn to walk to the bedside now. “We know what happened to your family. If you join me and pledge your allegiance to the Flame-Chase Journey, I promise you will avenge their deaths.” 

On a surface level, the Imperator was saying the right things. As the sole survivor of her family—as the family’s miracle alpha—Aglaea should want nothing less than absolute revenge, to reclaim dominance. But if she agreed to these terms, she would simply be trading one set of fetters for another. She would trade the future destined to her as an alpha for one destined to her as a child born with divinity in her veins. 

But what choice do I really have? 

v

Aglaea breathed a sigh of relief as she made it into her shop and closed the door. The sign on the store front—Goldweaver—rattled slightly from the movement. Five years after pledging her loyalty to the Flame-Chase Journey, yet some things never change. The faces and scents of her teachers are different, but lessons fill her daily schedule all the same. 

If the Imperator really wanted to drag her back to the palace to resume her lessons, she had more than enough resources to do so. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if the only reason the Imperator is turning a blind eye is because Tribbie asked her to. And with what Aglaea had named her little weave shop, it’s not like it would be difficult to find her anyway. 

She’d chosen a location in the city market, but off to the side rather than in the center where all the other merchants competed ruthlessly for customers. Aglaea was perfectly fine making clothes at her own pace, curating her patrons. It was really more of a hobby anyway. I doubt Mnestia turned a profit in Their pursuit of true ‘beauty.’ 

As she leaned against the back of the door, Aglaea stretched out a hand and tugged experimentally at the air in front of her. When she had come face to face with the Chrysalis of Gold, the Titan had challenged her to return with something ‘beautiful.’ To aid in this trial, Mnestia granted Aglaea access to Their world-wound web of golden threads. Limited access, but access nonetheless. 

Aglaea was still getting used to this strange power. The first time she reached out and touched one of the threads, it had overwhelmed and staggered her far more than any rut or beating. The sheer amount of information might have fried her brain if Hysilens hadn’t literally smacked the blonde out of her stupor. For months afterward, the Imperator had imposed a new rule that the teen could not be left unattended. 

She’d gotten better at controlling the threads now. She’d also learned to use them one at a time, capping the amount of information they could transmit to her at once. Aglaea was certain that Mnestia’s trial was more about learning how to use the threads than finding something beautiful. Since beauty is subjective, the trial would be impossible to pass otherwise. 

Aglaea relaxed, taking in the information the golden thread transmitted to her. Phobos and Deimos are competing at disc throwing again. Let’s hope they don’t break any windows this time. The wind is blowing in from the north, bringing with it a cold front. The dromas who lives in stable four dislikes the taste of her handler’s new soil recipe. 

Sifting through all this information was, in its own way, comforting. Aglaea had weaved and stitched and pressed so many clothes by this point that she could now work off muscle memory alone. She enjoyed getting to momentarily surrender her brain and consciousness to the golden threads, working all the while on her various passion projects. Here in her weave shop, she could momentarily pretend that she was just Aglaea. 

The blonde was just about to stand up and move to her loom when the golden thread picked up a new signal. It was someone from Dolos whose present emotional state was primarily ruled by wariness. Aglaea briefly wondered if this newcomer was a straggler from that larger Dolosian refugee contingent from a few weeks prior, but this person’s scent carried no trace of them. Instead, this Dolosian was a girl. She had evidently not presented yet so her scent was practically non-existent, but the thread whispered to Aglaea that this girl would come to smell of gemstones. She couldn’t fathom what kind of scent that would be. 

vi 

Cipher whistled as she walked leisurely through the marketplace. She kept her hands in her pockets and hood of her cloak pulled up. Her tail swept slowly behind her, the reddish brown tip occasionally poking out from the bottom of the cloak. She found it easier to navigate Okhema the more she hid her zoion features. 

For a refugee street rat like her, knowing how to stay hidden was the key to survival. Unfortunately, Okhema did not have nearly as many zoions as Dolos. In fact, of the few people with animal traits she had come across, all of them were fellow Dolos refugees. Like her, they had grown weary of the constant stares and hushed whispers that followed them wherever they went. One of them had even broken their group’s no women-no omegas code and showed Cipher a place in the sewers that she could spend her nights at. 

As Cipher passed by a fruit stall, she let her tail sweep out a little farther than before. The omega woman walking next to her, heading in the opposite direction, veered hard to the right to avoid the furry tail. Said woman proceeded to lose her balance and fell. The vendor, an alpha, leapt at the opportunity to look good in front of an omega and rushed to help. As Cipher left the vicinity of the stall, she chomped happily on a fresh apple. It’s getting too easy these days. What a shame. 

Cipher took the scenic route back to her makeshift den in the sewers. It always took a little longer, sure, but the view was really quite nice. She perked up a little, a newfound bounce to her step, as the Goldweaver shop came into view. She intentionally slowed down as she passed, eyes skimming the handful of outfits on display. They were more intricate than what her granny used to make, which gave them a certain kind of allure. But she could easily imagine that, if her granny survived and came to Okhema with her, they might have established a home like this weave shop. 

Feeling extra bold today, Cipher stopped at one of the nearby benches. She sat down, taking her time to savor the rest of her apple. As she did, she watched a blonde-haired girl poked her head out to greet a customer. Cipher had never seen anyone else work at this shop, so the girl must have been the owner. The name of the shop also made sense, as this girl had cascading blonde hair that shone like gold under the sunlight. 

If Cipher had to guess, this Goldweaver was maybe three or four years older than her. But if what the rumors said were true, then there’s no way Cipher would ever strike up a conversation. Anyone who had the express favor of the Imperator had to be one of those Chrysos Heirs. And if the Imperator found out that Cipher, too, had golden blood, then the Dolosian could kiss her freedom goodbye. 

Once Cipher had eaten all there was to eat of the apple, even the non-seed parts of the core, she could no longer justify her continued lingering. She tossed the seeds behind her, knowing that they’d land in a flower bed for either a bird or a rabbit to snatch up. As she turned down an alley to reach the sewer access point, Cipher pretended like she hadn’t heard a boy complaining to his mom about not wanting to sit on the bench because a ‘beast’ had ‘made it all gross and yucky.’ 

vii

Cipher froze when the Goldweaver sign came into view but the counter had its doors closed. In the year-or-so that she’d been in Okhema, she’d not once found Aglaea absent without first giving her a heads up. And that was usually because one of her teachers had dragged her away for a lesson, or because the Imperator had some very important Flame-Chase stuff to discuss. 

Sure, Cipher didn’t visit the shop every day or anything like that, but she would consider herself a semi-frequent guest. And she’d done enough business transactions to know what Aglaea’s weekly schedule for attending to the shop was. 

She walked up to the weave shop, sniffing around for any hints of foul play. But even her zoion-enhanced sense of smell yielded no clues. Stupid biology and the stupid scent blockage of being unpresented. If I had access to my full range of smell, I’d be able to solve this mystery in seconds! 

One thing Cipher could tell for certain was that Aglaea hadn’t been at the shop the previous day, either. The blonde girl’s distinct scent of silk and linen was stale. The doors on the counter could only be closed from the inside, but the side entrance had a more conventional door. Cipher made her way over and inspected the handle and locking mechanism, yet nothing appeared to have been tampered with. 

“Oh, well. The tailor girl’s probably just sick today,” Cipher thought aloud. “I’ll swing by tomorrow. I’m sure a pretty ruby will make her feel much better.” 

Aglaea was not at the shop the next day. Nor the following two days after that. It got the point that Cipher was ready to file a missing person report, even if the guardsmen would probably laugh her off. Thankfully, it didn’t come to that. On the fifth day, the blonde was back at the weave shop as if nothing had happened. 

Cipher did not immediately approach. No, she had to make sure that the tailor girl wasn't secretly replaced by someone pretending to be her. But as she observed the shop from her hiding spot in the bushes, she nearly jumped out of her skin when the subject of her observations called out to her. 

“I know you’re there, Cifera.” Aglaea sounded exasperated, and she rolled her eyes a little as she turned to readjust a mannequin’s shirt. Sheepishly, the Dolosian stood up and exited the bushes, picking out a couple stray branches from her hair and tail as she approached. 

“Uh, hi? How much are you willing to trade for this ruby?” Cipher dug into her cloak pocket, pulling out the modestly-sized gem. It wasn’t that big, but she’d taken the time to really polish the thing. That should bump up the price a fair bit, and distract the tailor girl from her whole spying thing. 

For a moment, it seemed like Aglaea was going to play along and follow the direction Cipher steered the conversation. The blonde picked up the ruby, holding it up to the sun to watch the way light passed through it. Once satisfied, she withdrew her coin box from under the counter and began removing Balance Coins. “I’ll give you sixty balance coins for the gem, but only if you tell me why you were hiding in the bushes.” 

“Only sixty? Geez, you rich people sure do drive a hard bargain.” After Aglaea had counted out sixty balance coins, Cipher reached across the counter to scoop them up. She hissed, tail flicking in annoyance as the tailor girl pulled the pile away. The blonde gave the younger girl a pointed look. “Fine,” Cipher sighed. “I wasn’t hiding. I was just conducting some, uh—how do you say it?—reconnaissance.” 

One of Aglaea’s eyebrows raised. “Reconnaissance? Even though you’ve traded in gems and other trinkets of yours several times in the past few months?” A mirthful smile spread across the blonde’s lips. “If you’re looking for insider information, you need only ask, Cifera.” 

Cipher humphed and crossed her arms, turning her head to the side. “You weren’t here for a few days. Thought you’d been taken down by the flu or something. Why were you gone, anyway?” 

Unexpectedly, a faint blush dusted Aglaea’s cheeks and her scent grew slightly stronger. “Oh.” She didn’t say anything after that, leaving the two girls in a somewhat awkward silence. The silence stretched on and on until the blonde finally broke it. “I closed the shop so I could deal with my rut.” By now, her cheeks were a vibrant red, and the blush extended to the tips of Aglaea’s ears. 

It took a moment for Cipher to process Aglaea’s words and what they meant. Rut? Why would Aglaea have a r—? “Oh,” the Dolosian finally squeaked out. Oh. How did I not notice it sooner? “You’re an alpha.” 

“That’s. . .correct,” Aglaea confirmed, hesitant. There was a hint of fear in the blonde’s eyes, but Cipher didn’t stick around long enough to know if anything replaced it. As soon as it fully registered that the blonde was an alpha, Cipher’s body moved on its own. 

The hair on her head and tail stood on end, conveying the girl’s sense of alarm. Cipher fled the weave shop with abandon, not caring who or what she bumped into. She just knew that she had to get away. That the last thing she needed was to become dependent on an alpha to help her survive in Okhema, even if that alpha was kind and fun to talk to. 

I bet she’s only acting nice because she thinks she can ‘fix’ me into the perfect, submissive, and obedient mate. As soon as I present as a beta, she’ll start ignoring and looking down on me like everyone else in this Zagreus-forsaken city! Or, if I end up being an omega, she’ll reveal her true colors and how she’s no different from any other possessive and controlling alpha out there. Damnit! If only she wasn’t an alpha. 

viii

“Cifera, wait!” Aglaea’s cry fell on deaf ears. By the time she realized that the younger girl had run away, it was too late. That didn’t stop her from trying, however. Am I really that repulsive to her now? She felt a pang in her heart, and a bitter taste in her mouth. 

For once, Aglaea thought she’d found someone whom she could be friends with without any sort of societal expectations. Cifera hadn’t presented yet, and the Dolosian never bothered to ask the blonde what her dynamic was. Aglaea believed, mistakenly as it turned out, that this meant the other girl didn’t care what she was. 

Immediately, she winced. Of course she would care. As an alpha, I am lucky to have the privilege of being taken seriously by my peers, male and female alike. For a girl who is not an alpha. . . 

Still, Aglaea couldn’t help the anger and frustration that had begun to rise to the surface. On days like this, she felt thoroughly convinced that these dynamics were the Titans’ way of cursing humanity to never achieve life fulfillment. She was used to people deciding how they would treat her based solely on her status as an alpha. 

She felt like both Mnestia’s favorite and most hated child at the same time. Her mother’s words echoed in her mind like a mantra: An alpha. A mirror image of Mnestia Themself. And golden blood to claim my divinity. A once in a universe miracle. The myths always spoke of Mnestia in terms of romance, of the relationships that comprise the human connection, whether romantic or platonic in nature. 

And who am I connected to? 

There were the Tribiosi, beacons of hope and capable of befriending anyone. But what brought her and them together was the Flame-Chase Journey. If not for Aglaea’s golden blood, would they even stop to learn her name? 

There was Hysilens, a one-woman army who brought with her the eccentricities of the sea. But even now it was still hard to get a read on this woman who had lived an entire lifetime in the ocean before coming ashore. Though Hysilens never sought to assert dominance over the younger alpha, Aglaea nevertheless felt woefully inadequate in comparison. 

There was the Imperator Cerydra, a woman whose ambitions for Amphoreus rallied countless others to her cause. But in the Imperator’s eyes, Aglaea was an heir. Someone whom the Imperator could mold in her image to carry on the Flame-Chase Journey. Someone whom Aglaea dared not consider her equal. 

Then, there was Cifera. The Dolosian with a heart of gold and a penchant for petty theft. She was three years Aglaea’s junior. Aglaea didn’t need the golden threads to figure that out. She had asked the younger girl directly. Talking to Cifera was easy. There was no expectation that she need be anything but herself. Cifera knew she was a Chrysos Heir, yet that hadn’t scared her away. The younger girl still freely joked around with Aglaea. She still traded in gems and complained whenever she thought the blonde was giving her too much or too little. It turned out that being a Chrysos Heir was the easy part of her and Cifera’s budding friendship. 

Aglaea was in a dour mood the remainder of the day, and it was quite obvious to anyone who knew her. Based on that list of connections she made earlier, that amounted to all of four people—three if you exclude the source of her gloom. 

At dinner, it was a rare evening when everyone was present. The three elder Heirs exchanged concerned looks as Aglaea poked at her salad. Tribbie stood on her chair, reaching over to where the blonde sat next to her. She placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder, giving her a gentle, soothing back rub. “Are you okay, Agy? Nothing bad happened during your rut, right?” 

“No,” Aglaea answered. She then quickly amended her response. “Not directly.” 

“But something did happen that was related to it,” Cerydra surmised. She set down her fork and knife, putting her elbows on the table and clasping her hands together. She rested her chin on her hands, leaning in from where she sat across from the blonde. 

Aglaea bit her lip, considering whether or not to share more. “Is it normal for someone to run away from you when they find out you’re an alpha?” If she was going to seek advice, she might as well cut straight to the point. 

Tribbie’s hand paused. The three elders once again exchanged looks, doubtlessly trying to figure out how to let Aglaea down easy. 

“I can’t say I’ve ever had that experience.” Hysilens was the first to speak her mind. Her advice won her a glare from the red-haired demigod. 

“Ahem,” Tribbie cleared her throat. “Ignore her, Agy.” She paused for a moment, eyes scrunching and one hand moving to her chin as she gave the question some thought. “After we—Tribios—presented as an omega, our mother did warn us to be careful around alphas who just got through a rut. Was the person who ran from you an omega?” 

“No.” Aglaea shook her head in the negative as well. “She hasn’t presented yet. Do you think that’s the reason she ran?” 

“Well, we can’t say for certain. We’re not even sure who you’re talking about.” Tribbie’s wings fluttered sadly. The priestess clearly hoped she’d be able to offer more help. 

“I find that you alphas and omegas get too hung up on dynamics.” Cerydra’s assessment sounded a bit like a rebuke. “The simplest way to figure out why someone did something is to just ask. You don’t need to psychoanalyze each other based on your biology.” Hearing Cerydra offer such blunt advice made Aglaea a tad embarrassed. It was curt, yet practical. And it’s not like the blonde had any better ideas. 

Unfortunately, Cifera avoided the weave shop like the plague for the next two weeks. Aglaea had stopped checking for the Dolosian after day ten, and she steadfastly refused to use the golden threads to locate her. That would be too much of a violation of Cifera’s dignity. After all, she was avoiding the blonde for a reason, even if she was not yet privy to that reason. 

When they did eventually cross paths once more, it wasn’t at the weave shop. It was actually near the Marmoreal Palace. Aglaea was walking home from a bath when fast-paced footsteps suddenly approached from behind. The girl had barely enough time to spin around before a dagger arced toward her head. 

Aglaea closed her eyes and braced for the feeling of cold steel slicing through her face. But that sensation never came. Instead, she heard an angry hiss and a man curse. Her eyes flew open, finding a man dressed in all black clothing writhing on the ground in pain. He’d dropped the dagger, which a familiar cat-eared girl kicked into the nearby bushes. Cifera then grabbed Aglaea’s arm and took off, dragging the blonde behind her. 

The two ran for a while, Aglaea letting herself be pulled left and right through the alleyways until Cifera eventually skidded to a halt. The blonde stumbled to a stop next to her. As she fought to catch her breath, Cifera turned to Aglaea. “Hah. Guess you owe me one now. Isn’t that right, tailor girl?” She had both hands on her hips, smirking down at the hunched-over alpha. However, the Dolosian’s nose wrinkled slightly. 

Realizing that she’d lost control over her pheromones due to the adrenaline, Aglaea rushed to pull her scent back in. “It would appear so,” she wheezed. “Thank you.” 

It took Aglaea several more seconds to fully recover from the run. That had been a different kind of hell from sword lessons with Hysilens. Cifera seemed content enough to wait. She didn’t leave like the blonde half-expected her to. Actually, the younger girl looked a little sheepish, idly scuffing the ground with her shoe. 

“Why did you help me?” 

Cifera gave Aglaea an incredulous look. “That guy was trying to kill you!” 

“Sorry, I should have been more precise.” Aglaea hesitated for just a moment before deciding to follow through on Cerydra’s advice. “I kind of thought you were avoiding me.” 

“Um, that’s because I kind of was.” Cifera appeared rather nervous, her ears constantly twitching and wringing her tail in her hands. She was also steadfastly avoiding eye contact. “I guess I was just testing you to see how you’d react.” 

“Testing me?” Aglaea gulped. Does this mean she’s been keeping track of me this whole time? I didn’t even notice. I probably failed the test, then. 

“Yeah. Testing to see if you’d get all possessive or something.” After stating her plan aloud, Cifera seemed a bit embarrassed. “You passed, if that matters.” 

“Yes, it does!” Aglaea seized on the lifeline the other girl had tossed. “It does matter to me because I care what you think.” To her own embarrassment, the blonde could feel tears building at the corner of her eyes as a wave of relief washed over her. Her words must have reassured the Dolosian as well, because Cifera’s ears settled and she let go of her tail in favor of looking Aglaea directly in the eyes. 

“Good! Not everyone can pass my tests, you know.” Cifera puffed out her chest a little, standing a little taller and adopting a mischievous smile. “You really just moped around all day at the shop. I was starting to worry you didn’t have any other friends.” Cifera chuckled, and Aglaea could only join in with a nervous giggle of her own. She hoped her visible relief would hide just how true that last part was. 

ix

Cipher’s ears twitched as she listened for any footsteps in the narrow, limestone corridor. Other than the occasional drip of water from a leaky pipe, there were no signs of life. Letting out a short exhale of relief, the Dolosian carefully inserted a piece of wire into the lock in front of her. Said lock, and the door to which it was attached, was the one barrier between her and a massive payday. Even through the door, Cipher could smell a profit. 

With a satisfying click, the lock gave way. She slowly pushed the door open, jaw dropping as a mountain of treasure came into view. There were piles of balance coins stacked taller than her head, and countless shiny gems glinted amongst all the gold. There were also what appeared to be several relics, like an intricately painted vase or that shield with a lion’s head on the front. 

Cipher crossed the threshold one foot at a time, placing her toes down first in case she triggered an alarm or trap. Finding none, she proceeded into the room proper. There’s so many goodies in here, I don’t even know where to start! Well, I can’t be too greedy. That’s how thieves get caught. She’d come to this underground vault to look for gems, so with gems in hand she would leave. The relics would be a bad steal anyway, since most looked far too unique to reasonably pass off as not stolen. 

As she dug through the heaps of coins and gem, a glint of blue caught her eye. There, sitting inconspicuously atop one of the smaller piles was a a single , water blue gem. She wracked her brain, trying to remember what it was called. Her mind drew a blank, but the name wasn’t that important. The client she would sell them gem to would know what it was. And if Cipher had any competence as a salesperson, she’d surely be able to fetch quite the haul. She swiped the gemstone, holding it up to the chandelier on the ceiling to check how light passed through it. Satisfied with her inspection, the girl shoved the gem into her pocket. When she left the vault, she made sure to lock it again. 

From there, it was a few twists and turns to make it back to the marketplace. For a moment, Cipher considered taking her loot to Hadrian’s jewelry stall. But the nasty look he’d given her the last time was enough to deter that plan. That snide remark he’d made about zoions didn’t help. It’s his loss. There isn’t a better supplier than me in all of Amphoreus! 

With the number of viable options realistically being just the one, Cipher made her way toward her favorite gilded storefront. As she approached the weave shop, she spotted Aglaea sitting behind the counter, knitting something. The younger girl started to beeline for the Goldweaver, slowing down once she realized how overeager it would make her seem. 

Cipher stepped up to the counter, dropping the blue gemstone front and center. She said nothing, letting the stone’s quality speak for itself. Just as wordlessly, Aglaea set down her knitting needles and yarn, picking up Cipher’s offering. The blonde inspected the item as the cat-eared girl waited with bated breath. 

“An Ocean’s Tear. How exquisite.” Aglaea smiled fondly as she turned the gemstone in her hand. If Cipher squinted, she swore she could make out the faint outline of a golden thread wrapping itself around the stone. “The last time I saw one of these was in my mother’s collection, but that got moved to the vault years ago.” 

Gulp. Cipher pretended that she didn’t hear the second sentence, but the nervous twitch of her tail gave her away. And for someone like Aglaea, perhaps the younger girl’s scent would also convey a sense of unease. Before her body could give away too many of her secrets, Cipher pushed forward with the deal. 

“So, tailor girl. A pretty rock like that ought to be enough to buy anything from your store, yeah?” Cipher examined the garments on display, but there was really no point. She already knew what she wanted. “I’ll take your most beautiful dress to go, please.” 

Aglaea let out a mirthful chuckle, carefully setting the Ocean’s Tear back on the counter. “Beautiful as it is, this gem is not worth nearly enough to buy one of these dresses.” Cipher’s ears and tail drooped, her momentum drained. “However,” the blonde continued as she stood from her seat, “this gem should be enough for. . .” She trailed off as she walked deeper into the Goldweaver, sifting through her inventory. 

When Aglaea returned, she held a pair of golden boots. “These boots are said to be blessed by Zagreus,” she explained as she set them down next to the Ocean’s Tear. “Whoever wears them shall never be caught.” 

Cipher’s eyes sparkled. A pair of boots blessed by the Titan of Trickery? I’d be the envy of everyone in Dolos! But she couldn’t appear too eager, nor give in too readily to the counteroffer. She had a reputation to uphold, after all. “I think you’re selling that gem a bit short, tailor girl.” She nevertheless grabbed the boots. “But if you’re so desperate to get rid of these boots, I may as well take them off your hands.” Her tail wagged, annoyingly similar to some of those dog zoions she’d known as a little kid. 

“We have a deal, then.” Aglaea moved the Ocean’s Tear somewhere below the countertop, pulling out a piece of parchment to draft up a receipt. After a few seconds of scribbling, she handed the parchment to Cipher, who happily accepted. 

“Bye, tailor girl!” Cipher didn’t look back as she walked away, boots firmly in hand. 

“Until next time, Cifera!” 

As she made her way back through the alleys toward the sewers, Cipher clutched the boots close to her chest. She gave them a perfunctory sniff. A purr rumbled in her throat as she inhaled a certain silk and linen scent. 

x

“So, what’s this I hear about a little kitten fish who frequents your shop?” Hysilens’ question caught Aglaea off guard. They were in the armory, putting away their wooden training swords. It was hardly the time for idle chatter, and the blonde would really prefer to get to the bath and wash away all the grime as soon as possible. 

“I beg your pardon?” She gathered up her belongings and tried to squeeze past Hysilens, but the older alpha blocked her path. For a moment, Aglaea’s fight or flight instincts kicked in, a growl escaping her lips. Memories of days long gone flashed through her mind, some of her oldest scars tingling as she recalled the dominance lessons her combat tutor used to put her through. She didn’t have to come out of the struggle unscathed, Aglaea reminded herself. She just had to move to a position in which she was no longer trapped. 

Sensing the younger alpha’s unease, Hysilens swiftly corrected herself, stepping aside and leaving an unobstructed path to the door. The blonde wasted no time in leaving the armory, though Hysilens annoyingly followed her. It seemed the swordswoman was not going to leave Aglaea to her bath unless she indulged whatever it was that caught the woman’s curiosity. 

As Aglaea headed for the Marmoreal Palace, Hysilens followed her like a persistent shadow, despite the setting sun. Said shadow’s voice broke the intentional silence. “Short. Grey hair. Cat ears. A tail. Surely you noticed the quirks your new friend has.” 

“I am aware, yes.” Aglaea spoke stiffly and curtly. “But I fail to see why you’ve brought this up. I assure you, what I do in my personal time will not distract from my duties to the Flame-Chase Journey.” 

It took Aglaea a few paces to realize that Hysilens had stopped walking. “I didn’t question your commitment to the Imperator’s mission. I was simply trying to make some small talk. That’s something people do, right? Or is that reserved only for the lower class?” Despite the way most people would interpret Hysilens’ questions, Aglaea knew the woman was dead serious. 

The blonde rolled her eyes, pulling at Hysilens’ arm to get her to start walking again. “If you aren’t weird about the social hierarchy, then small talk is for everyone.” Aglaea kept mum as they entered the bathhouse. Upon spotting the two Chrysos alphas, most people gave them a wide berth. Several bowed in respect as they passed, while others glared at them from afar. Neither paid the other bathhouse patrons much mind as they made their way to the upper level, to the Heroes’ Bath. 

Only once they made it to the exclusive loft, far away from prying ears, did Aglaea finally indulge Hysilens’ original query. “I have a new collaborator, yes. She’s refreshingly earnest, petty thievery aside.” 

“Wow, that was kind of harsh, Agy.” Aglaea nearly jumped off the platform when Tribbie spoke. She hadn’t even realized her teacher was there. She sat on the edge of the bath, toes dipped into the water and steam leaving behind dew on her white bath gown. The redhead giggled at the blonde’s reaction. “You make it sound so professional, but aren’t you friends?” 

Aglaea wasn’t sure how to respond. She bought herself time to think by stepping behind the privacy screen, removing her training outfit and putting on her own bath gown. She walked slowly to the bath, sinking down into the water next to Tribbie. Are Cifera and I friends? If I say yes, would that put her in danger? Hysilens said it was just small talk, but I wouldn’t put it past the Imperator to task her with scouting out information. Is Teacher in on it as well? 

“Should we interpret your silence as a confession?” Hysilens smirked as she joined the others in the bath. She was clearly acting in bad faith and intended only to be a thorn in Aglaea’s side. But the blonde refused to submit to such villains. 

“Perhaps we are friends. What does it matter to you? Are you planning to chase her off with your stinky odor and non-existent fashion sense?” Aglaea sunk deeper into the water, even though it meant she was now slouching. A small part of her, one that she forcefully stamped out, wondered if the older alpha meant to steal Cifera from her. 

“Hardly,” Hysilens rebutted. “We just wondered who caught the elegant and sought-after Goldweaver’s eye.” There were several unvoiced implications to that statement. But the only one Aglaea chose to focus on was the we. 

“‘We’ meaning who, exactly?” 

“Us, Lensi, and Cery!” Tribbie exclaimed. “We’re glad you’re making friends, Agy. We know it can be a bit lonely as a demigod-in-the-making.” 

“Just friends?” 

Aglaea’s head whipped toward Hysilens so quickly that it sent a ripple through the bath. This time, the blonde was no effort to hide her growl. “What are you implying?” 

“Nothing, nothing.” Hysilens raised both hands in a placating gesture. “Your scent has simply started to develop a new earthen quality to it, like you were mining for rocks or something. There’s no shame in having a mate. The Imperator would just prefer to be notified in advance.” 

The blonde turned to Tribbie, hoping her teacher would be similarly flabbergasted by the words that just came out of Hysilens’ mouth. Instead, the red-haired demigod gave her an apologetic look. “It’s true. The part about your scent starting to become mixed. We don’t know about the mate thing. We think it's pretty normal to start smelling like the people you hang out with every day.” 

“We’re not mates.” Aglaea spoke firmly, making it clear that this topic would go no further. Tribbie and Hysilens both looked like they wanted to ask more questions, but they wisely chose to move on. 

The younger alpha contributed little to the ensuing conversation as she ruminated. She hadn’t realized that she would start to pick up Cifera’s scent by spending time with her. It meant the Dolosian could probably smell Tribbie, Hysilens, and Cerydra on her as well, even if the younger girl hadn’t met any of them. 

But the thought of smelling like the other Chrysos Heirs did not stir her heart in the same way the thought of smelling like Cifera did. Is it because Cifera is someone I chose to spend time with? I didn’t have much of a choice with the others, even if they’ve proven to be dependable allies. Mates. Hmm. Is Cifera someone I could see myself becoming mates with one day? I do enjoy spending time with her whenever she comes by the shop, but I must be careful not to read too much into things. And given her initial reaction to learning I’m an alpha, I don’t think that’s something she wants from me. Heh. Hysilens, putting such weird thoughts into my mind. 

xi

It was supposed to be a day like any other. Since joining the Flame-Chase Journey, the now-eighteen-year-old Dolosian’s life had changed drastically. In a good way, most of the time. Sure, it was kind of annoying running messages between the Imperator’s military encampments, but she quite enjoyed the espionage missions. Plus, any treasure she picked up along the way was hers to keep. And that’s by decree of the Imperator! 

Getting to pull back the curtain and see what Aglaea was up to for all these years was also nice. She especially liked the part where the tailor girl—well, woman—was no longer hiding things from her. Back when they were still just Cipher the refugee and Aglaea the Goldweaver, that had been the one way in which she felt the blonde didn’t treat her as an equal. The alpha kept every non-Heir at a similar distance, of course, but it still stung to be shut out from such a significant part of her friend’s life. 

Joining the Flame-Chase Journey also netted her a few new friends, including the Imperator herself! These new relationships would pay dividends, and it was quite easy to convince Hysilens or any of the Tribiosi girls to share stories about Aglaea. 

On this day, Cipher had no missions, so she planned to simply hang out and run some errands at the weave shop. This plan was swiftly dashed the moment she opened her eyes and felt horribly off. Her stomach twisted and turned, and everything felt way too hot. She’d experienced period cramps before, but never like this. Usually, she could just take some pain medicine and carry on with her day. 

Now, the pain was the least of her worries. Everything felt so much more. . .prominent. The bedside lamp and the sun filtering through the curtains practically blinded her. Her ears picked up on every slight sound, even as they felt stuffy and muffled. Her nose was assaulted by wave after wave of scents. The flower vase on the window sill, the countless hands the balance coin in her handbag had passed through, each and every servant that maneuvered through the halls of the Imperator’s palace. 

Cipher honestly thought she was dying. It was all too much, too uncomfortable. No matter how much she covered her nose, folded her ears, clenched her eyes shut, or writhed on the bed, she found no relief. There was the thick, heavy scent of minerals in the air. Cipher knew instinctively that it was her scent. 

When Cerydra initially welcomed Cipher into the Flame-Chase Journey at just fourteen years old, she had the physicians at the Twilight Courtyard conduct a medical exam. She was healthy, if a bit malnourished. After a few months of Tribbie’s cooking and Aglaea insisting on sharing meals together to ensure Cipher ate everything, that problem had quickly gone away. 

As she settled into her role as a Chrysos Heir, Cipher remained in overall good health. The only blemish on her medical records was that she had yet to present as a beta or omega. The typical age range for such differentiation was fourteen to sixteen. Tribbie was the most concerned, but the doctors attributed the delay to the stress of being a refugee and the aforementioned malnourishment. By the time Cipher turned eighteen and her dynamic was still undetermined, she decided to just forget about the whole thing. She could live the rest of her life as a beta, because that’s basically what someone unpresented is anyway. 

But here, curled up on her bed in pure agony, Cipher knew that her time had come. And presenting as a beta was never as dramatic as this. Unable to really do anything but suffer in isolation, she kicked off the covers and the bedsheet. It brought a little bit of cool air, but not nearly enough to douse the fire burning in her veins. 

Cipher reached down to rip off her sleep shorts, but she paused when a couple scents approached her door. She could tell immediately that it was Aglaea and Tribbie. She could also hear the moment they abruptly stopped, having finally noticed something was wrong. At that moment, with her first heat muddling her brain and enhancing her senses, Aglaea’s scent was more alluring than ever. 

Her body screamed at her to climb out of bed and plaster herself across the alpha. Cipher hated it. She hated that she was an omega. She hated the fact that now, every other month, she would suffer a debilitating cycle that left her at the mercy of others. That she’d become a slave to her own biology. That all it would take is for one alpha to get too close. If it was the wrong alpha, she’d lose her freedom altogether. 

Even through the heavy oak door and the marbled walls, Cipher could hear Aglaea and Tribbie speaking in hushed voices. 

“Teacher. . .” 

“We know, Agy. We know.” 

“What do we do?” 

“Run to the Courtyard and send a nurse over.” 

“Right. I can do that.” 

“Then you must stay away until we tell you it’s safe to return.” 

“. . .” 

“Don’t look at us like that, Agy. We know you’re worried about Ciphy, but you’re an alpha. You being here during her first heat is only going to make everything worse.” 

“I. . .You’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking.” 

Cipher heard Aglaea take a few steps, her silk and linen scent growing slightly more distant. Then, the blonde paused. She proceeded to whisper so softly that the Dolosian couldn’t make out what she said. That gave Cipher a nice momentary reprieve from her heat, trying to figure out what the alpha’s parting words were. Some of the ideas she came up with pleased certain parts of her more than others. 

After what felt like an eternity, there finally came a knock on the door followed by a hesitant call. “Ciphy, it’s us, Tribbie. There’s also a nurse. Can we come in?” 

“Please!” Cipher groaned. She hoped they didn’t expect her to open the door for them, because she was in no state for that. Thankfully, Tribbie must have brought the master key with her, because there was a click as the door was unlocked. 

The nurse came over to conduct the wellness examination as Tribbie stood off to the side. The older omega gently released her wood-scented pheromones, helping to defuse Cipher’s oppressive heat ones. The nurse finished her examination in just a couple minutes. Contrary to what Cipher thought, there was nothing wrong with her. This was simply the experience all omegas go through when they first present. 

When the door clicked shut, it left just Cipher and Tribbie in the room. With a consenting nod from the Dolosian, the demigod fluttered to her bedside, letting the young woman press into her arms for comfort. As an omega, there was only so much Tribbie could do to help Cipher, but heats don’t necessarily require an alpha. Any familiar, comforting scent can ease the omega. It’s just that alphas happened to be best equipped to deal with the physical aspect. Or so society dictated, at least. 

Tribbie respectfully averted her eyes as Cipher dealt with her first wave of heat and physical desires. The demigod then helped the younger omega into the attached bathroom, where she’d thoughtfully prepared the tub. 

Cipher sunk down into the steaming water, for once not caring that her tail grew soaking wet. A pair of small hands scrubbed soap into the cat-eared girl’s hair. “Is that okay, Ciphy?” The hands paused until the woman hummed her consent. 

Tribbie’s hands were skillful, but Cipher knew someone whose hands were even more deft. Aglaea. The name had passed through her mind more than she’d prefer to admit during this whole ordeal, each time sparking a bit of desire. She wasn’t sure if that was just the heat talking or what. It was so tempting to ask Tribbie to call Aglaea over. The alpha certainly sounded ready to help in whatever way she could earlier. 

Aglaea was also one of the only alphas that Cipher unconditionally trusted, but she never lusted after Hysilens. Oh. Oh no. Agy’s an alpha and now I’m an omega. The gravity of the situation finally hit her. Her newfound dynamic had the potential to change everything, for better or for worse. 

Because she’d resigned herself to being a beta, Cipher had never given serious thought to pursuing a deeper relationship with the alpha. At least, that’s what the Dolosian told herself. Surely someone like Aglaea could have her pick of any omega in Amphoreus, so why would she ever choose an orphan refugee like Cipher? If anyone, she expected the alpha to pick an omega with a high status that could improve the public image of the Flame-Chase Journey. 

Cerydra had never said anything to suggest that she expected that of Aglaea, but Cipher couldn’t discount the possibility. Nor could she discount the possibility that Cerydra might now want Cipher to pair off with some other city-state’s alpha royalty as a political alliance. Either suggestion caused her stomach to twist and turn again, this time not because of her heat. 

Her unease must’ve shown in her scent, because Tribbie gave a weak tug on her ears. “Everything still okay, Ciphy?” 

“Yeah,” Cipher mumbled. Her tail swished in the water, coming to a rest on her thighs. Who am I kidding? Asking Tribbie to fetch Aglaea would be a stupid idea, especially since we can never go back to being just friends if Agy says yes. 

xii

Aglaea watched as the nurse packed a medical bag and bolted toward the Imperator’s palace. As much as she wanted to follow and make sure Cifera was okay, leaving that corridor had been the wise thing to do. She couldn’t pretend like Cifera’s heat pheromones didn’t have any effect on her. Even just those couple minutes of exposure were enough for Aglaea’s lower undergarments to grow uncomfortably tight. She’d run to the Twilight Courtyard with an obvious gait, but there were thankfully few passersby on the way. 

She hadn’t expected Cifera to differentiate today, or at all, really. She’d begun to assume that the younger woman was just one of those rare few who were born without a dynamic. Evidently, she was wrong. And now she was banned from the palace for the foreseeable future, having lacked the foresight to grab any of her personal belongings from her bedroom. At the very least, as a seamstress, she had other means of procuring a change of clothes. She could also send a Garmentmaker if she was desperate enough. 

One of the other nurses must have thought Aglaea needed further medical attention, since she was still standing by the front desk. “Is there anything else we can help you with, Dux Goldweaver?” 

Was there? A thought crossed her mind. A dangerous thought, one that she should immediately abandon if she valued her relationship with Cifera to any extent. One of her old tutors had explained what an omega’s heat was like, with a particular emphasis on the way an alpha can help them through it. At the time, she had absorbed all of his advice, committing his words to memory in preparation for the day when she would be called upon to fulfill her duties as the next head alpha of her family. 

Now, under Tribbie’s tutelage, she knew many of that old man’s claims to be distortions of the truth. But, a distortion of the truth implies there was still some accuracy to what he said, right? Something both he and Tribbie agreed on was that an omega did not need to have sex with an alpha to get through a heat. He declared that it would be torturous but survivable. Tribbie explained that merely having the scent of a familiar alpha is enough, even if the omega’s relationship with that alpha was not romantic. 

Aglaea was not going to offer her body to Cifera, but perhaps she could offer a shirt or a blanket. To make it seem less weird, she could also convince Hysilens to part ways with one of her forearm guards. Broken into a thousand pieces, the Tribiosi’s child-like bodies no longer experienced heats. But Trinnon had shown Aglaea how to scent an article of clothing, just in case the priestess ever returned to her adult form. 

She snapped back into reality, turning to address the nurse and inform him that she was fine. But he was nowhere to be found, having apparently given up and decided there was nothing urgent. Fair enough. 

Reaching out through her golden threads, Aglaea activated the Garmentmaker she knew was in the palace’s residential wing. The mannequin floated through the corridors until it came to a halt in front of Cifera’s door. The blonde manipulated the threads, and the Garmentmaker accordingly raised a hand to knock. But she paused before she did. 

This was Cifera’s first heat, and Aglaea knew how the younger woman felt about dynamics. Would Cifera take offense if I offered her a scented shirt? The alpha’s stomach dropped as another memory surged to the surface. When she first found out I was an alpha, she ran away because she thought I would become possessive of her. And if Aglaea made this offer unprompted at the very first opportunity upon learning Cifera was an omega, then that would mean Cifera’s fears were not unfounded. 

Omega or not, Aglaea couldn’t fathom Cifera feeling anything other than disdain toward her if the blonde proved to be every bit the alpha her parents wanted her to be. An alpha must establish their dominance or else they leave room for someone else to seize the throne. But Aglaea didn’t want to ‘dominate’ Cifera, nor was Cifera a prize to be won. She had no interest in lording over her hypothetical mate from atop a throne. 

Quietly, Aglaea moved the Garmentmaker back to its previous post, disconnecting from it with a wave of her hand. 

xiii

Cipher lounged on a sofa at the weave shop. Today was a lazy day, and it seemed like everyone had something to do but her. Even Aglaea had gone with Tribbie to Janusopolis for a negotiation of some sort. So, the Dolosian had taken it upon herself to keep an eye on the Goldweaver store. As the pair had grown busier, the amount of time they could spend at the shop proportionally decreased. 

It was a little odd being in the shop by herself, Cipher would admit. Though, it hadn’t always been that way. There was a clear demarkation between when hanging around the shop was normal and when being at the shop turned into something that others read into. The day she’d presented as an omega. 

As with anyone who differentiated into an alpha or an omega, Cipher’s scent had changed, growing stronger and taking on that undertone of omega sweetness. Anyone with a functioning nose could tell what she was. Anyone with a functioning nose could smell how an omega’s scent had joined Aglaea’s in lingering over the shop. It really shouldn’t have been such a big deal. It’s not like people weren’t used to affiliating Cipher with the weave shop. She’d worked there long enough to call it a second home. 

But people always got weird when it came to the relationship between an alpha and an omega. It’s like they can’t understand that alphas and omegas can be friends without wanting to get into each others’ pants. It’s not like Cipher didn’t know why that was the predominant view. It takes time for people to step out of those strictly defined boxes and relationships that society reinforces. She would just have to make sure to leave before Aglaea came back, lest the rumors start making the rounds again. 

With a stretch and a yawn, Cipher stood up from the cushioned seat. Making sure the doors over the counter were still shut, she exited out the back. That was an excellent nap, if I do say so myself. Now, what are those little wild cats up to? 

Looking both ways to ensure the alley was empty, Cipher hopped onto the roof of the shop next door. She ran across the roof tiles and shingles, making her way toward the Marmoreal Park. Spotting her target, she stealthily transferred over to a tree, slinking down the trunk until she was hovering right above a young boy who was covering his eyes and counting. She leaned next to his ears, tapping his shoulder with a whispered, “Boo!” 

The boy shrieked, flailing wildly as he fell backwards. His cry of alarm caused a few heads to poke out of various hiding spots across the park. Cipher had to give kudos to the girl that squeezed herself into one of those Janus Steeds. But once those other kids realized it was just Cipher, they went back into hiding. 

Cipher did a flip off the tree, landing on the ground feet-first. “Sorry, kid!” She was not sorry at all as she extended a hand to pull the boy up. He glared at her, but it was more playful than angry. As punishment for her little trick, she was forced to help him with hide-and-seek. She tried not to give too many hints. 

Cipher spent the rest of the afternoon playing with those little rascals, at some point even becoming buried under a mountain of bodies as they dogpiled her. As she escaped from the swarm, she could feel several pairs of eyes watching her. 

“She’s so good with those kids,” a middle-aged, blue-haired woman commented to her friend. 

The brunette lady nodded in agreement. “It’s no wonder she presented as an omega. Lady Aglaea must be very proud.” 

“You’re absolutely right!” the first woman exclaimed. “When do you suppose they’ll welcome the first child of their own?” 

Cipher’s ear flicked harshly, a frown drawing down her face. She didn’t bother tuning into the rest. Ah, yes. One of the many downsides of being an omega. Now, anything she did that had anything to do with kids was somehow related to her being an omega. Never mind that she had been taking these orphans under her wing for years. Before she presented as an omega, no one ever thought to associate Cipher’s wild cats with Aglaea. Or, if they did, they kept those comments to themselves. 

On a practical level, she knew that there had long been rumors that she and Aglaea might become mates one day. It wasn’t a hard sell, since Cipher was pretty much the only similarly-aged person that the blonde spent time with. But now, these people didn’t bother to hide their speculations about complete strangers. 

The worst part was that Cipher didn’t even hate the idea of being Aglaea’s mate. Actually, part of her really liked the idea, the part of her who had come to learn who Aglaea the person was like. The kind of person who shoulders lots of burdens yet never took her frustration out on others. The kind of person who was adorably nerdy about stitching techniques and complementary colors. The kind of person who would listen to Cipher complain for hours about every little grievance, validating her feelings and doing small things to make life in Okhema better one piece at a time. The kind of person who gives without expecting anything in return. The kind of person whom Cipher would gladly spend the rest of her life with. 

Becoming mates with Aglaea would be a dream come true. She just hated that everyone else seemed to have decided that for her as well. It may be contrarian, but the Dolosian despised the thought that she would become nothing more than Aglaea’s omega if she were to act on her feelings. Cipher wondered if Aglaea felt similarly. 

xiv

Cipher walked through the Imperator’s palace with a light skip in her step. She’d traded one folder of intel for a pocket of shiny gems. “All in a good day’s work!” Cerydra had been very pleased, and it felt nice for her dynamic to be useful for once. Apparently, Aglaea and Hysilens were outliers amongst the alpha crowd. It was all too easy for Cipher to seduce that councilman into giving her unrestricted access to his library. All she had to do was turn on a little bit of her feminine charm and push out a dose of her sweet omega scent. That man was knocked out cold before he could even realize he wasn’t actually going to get laid. 

Her lips curled in disgust. That deception felt very whatever in the moment, but now it was just a stark reminder of the way that man saw her as nothing more than a piece of meat. Even knowing that she was a Chrysos Heir, he didn’t consider her a threat or think anything of it when she started talking to him. Serves him right. I bet his mate’s going to love seeing pictures of him and his many affairs on the front page tomorrow. Cerydra hadn’t asked for that intel. Cipher did that herself. A little bit of vigilante justice. 

When the Dolosian got to the common area of the residential wing, she was surprised to see Aglaea sitting at one of the tables. She had a book open in front of her, but the fact that she was neither turning the pages nor fiddling with her golden threads meant she wasn’t reading. Cipher checked the clock on the wall. It was about half-way through the Curtain-Fall Hour. “Seamstress,” she purred. “Aren’t you worried about your beauty sleep?” 

Aglaea startled, head jolting up and her chair scooting back with a quiet screech. Instinctively, a thread shot out from her palm, threatening to tie Cipher’s legs together. Once the blonde realized who had spoken, she let out a sigh of relief. “Cifera, it’s you.” The thread backed off, returning to its master. “I was. . .waiting for you, actually.” 

“At this time of night?” Cipher wasn’t sure what Aglaea wanted, but she certainly didn’t expect the alpha to be so bold as to proposition her late into the evening. In the year since Cipher presented, the two learned to ignore the stares and whispers that followed them everywhere. Maybe Aglaea’s no longer content with just friendship? She walked over and took the seat opposite the blonde, already thinking of what to say to let her down gently. 

“You remember Daphne, right?” Well, that’s not the way Cipher imagined the conversation would start. 

“Nah, can’t say I do.” Cipher leaned back in her chair, ears lifted and interest piqued. 

“She’s part of Hysilens’ detachment. Black hair. Blue eyes. Wears glasses.” That didn’t ring any bells for Cipher. But, to be fair, she stopped training with Hysilens as soon as she could pass Cerydra’s basic combat exam. She didn’t really know who was in the Imperator’s army, nor did she care unless Cerydra assigned her to stalk one of them or something. “She’s an omega, and she asked me to help her with her upcoming heat.” 

Cipher froze. “Okay. Congrats? You’re getting laid. What’s that got to do with me?” 

“No-nothing in particular,” Aglaea stammered. A blush began to wind way up her neck. “I just wanted to let you know in case you. . .” Her words trailed off into a mumble, and the blonde averted her gaze. 

This conversation was starting to reach a dangerous territory, and Cipher was more than willing to let the blonde know. “In case I what? Told you to say no?” It was rhetorical question, but the way Aglaea’s blush deepened answered her anyway. “C’mon, Agy. I’m not your mate or anything. You can sleep with whoever you want. I won’t snitch as long as you keep it quiet.” 

Aglaea stared down at her lap, bangs falling over her eyes. Cipher sniffed, and there was something off about the blonde’s scent. It was slightly sour. “Right. Of course,” Aglaea finally responded, still looking down. “I’m sorry. This was a pointless conversation.” The alpha stood up, gathering her book. When she looked at Cipher, her yellow-green eyes looked a little more hazy than usual. “Have a good night, Cifera.” 

Cipher watched as Aglaea walked away. The moment carried a strange since of finality, as if they had ended something neither woman really knew how to describe. The Dolosian was tempted to get up and follow her, but she remained seated. This is what I wanted, right? It’s what’s best for me. 

xv

“The banquet starts at the first quint of Parting Hour.” Aglaea looked at Cifera with pleading eyes. 

“I know, Agy. You and Hysilens have told me only about a hundred times.” The cat-eared woman rolled her eyes, not budging from her seat in the entertainment room. She had a plate of honey cakes in hand, snacking while watching a recorded play on the new device Tribbie had recently invented. 

“It’s the last banquet before the Imperator sets off on the Castrum Kremnos campaign. Don’t you at least want to bid her and Hysilens farewell?” If Cifera wouldn’t go just because Aglaea asked her to, then perhaps she’d be more enticed by a group setting. 

Cifera sighed, setting down her plate and using a little remote to pause the device. “You’re really not going to let this go, huh? You’re so clingy today.” 

Aglaea frowned. She didn’t like the way Cifera had phrased her words, like the omega was submitting to something against her will. That was not Aglaea’s intention. Maybe the problem is that I’m the one asking. “We can arrive separately if you prefer. Or we can go with Tribbie as a group.”

Cifera’s tail thumped against the sofa. She grabbed her fork and waved it wildly in front of herself. “You’re not using those threads to pry into my thoughts, are you?” 

“No, of course not!” Aglaea even made her threads visible to show she was telling the truth. “I just don’t want you to give in simply because I asked. Nor do I want to be the reason you’d feel uncomfortable attending.” 

The two stared at each other for a moment, testing an unspoken boundary. Cifera was the one who broke eye contact, rising to her feet. She grabbed her plate and started walking in the direction of the kitchen. “I’ll be there. Just don’t expect me to be on time. That's not my style.” 

The blonde smiled, relieved. “I look forward to seeing you there. Then you’ll learn first hand how much of a party animal Hysilens can be.” That. . .went better than expected. She left the entertainment room as well, heading in the opposite direction toward her bedroom. Once she was dressed up, she found Tribbie and dragged the little redhead to the venue. They were, of course, bright and early so they could help set up. 

The setting sun signaled the transition from Action Hour to Parting Hour, and most of the banquet’s invitees had arrived. The party was in full swing, and Aglaea had no shortage of diplomats vying for her attention. Everyone knew that she was the Imperator’s chosen successor, and the more opportunistic of the bunch hoped to curry her favor well in advance. 

She was in the middle of listening to a balding man ramble about the Grove of Epiphany’s latest research when Cifera made her appearance in typical fashion. The lights in the ballroom cut out. For a moment, a panicked hush fell upon the room. Then, a single light turned back on, spotlighting the zoion figure flipping and twirling across the upper balcony. With a flourish, Cifera dropped down in front of the orchestra. A snap turned the lights back on, and she gave a grand bow. The attendees were too stunned to award Cifera the applause she deserved, so the Dolosian stuck out her tongue and gave the room a stink-eye as she hopped down from the stage. 

Aglaea watched Cifera weave her way through the crowd, pleased when she came to a halt at the blonde’s side. From this close, she could ascertain the details of her dress more clearly. In a stark contrast to Aglaea’s own white and gold gown, Cifera wore one that was black with blue accents. She recognized the cut as one of the pieces she’d tailored specifically for the younger woman. 

But Aglaea was not the only person pleased to see Cifera stop by. The Grove diplomat gave a hearty chuckle. “Lady Aglaea, you manage to surprise me every time. In a good way, I promise.” Both women turned an inquisitive stare the man’s way. His chuckle quickly faded as he realized neither one had joined in his amusement. Addressing Cifera specifically, he asked, “What is it like being the mate of such a renowned alpha? Why, I remember meeting her parents—.” 

The man’s words cut off as he was shoved to the floor. By the time Aglaea blinked, Cifera had already bolted out the doors. Ignoring her impropriety, the blonde left the man on the floor to chase after the younger woman. Visually, the Dolosian was long gone, but Aglaea could still detect her panicked scent. And, if she had to, she could use the golden threads as a last resort. Thankfully, it didn’t come to that. 

Aglaea eventually found Cifera below Okhema, hiding by the entrance to the sewer system. She was sat on a crate, heels discarded to the wayside. She kicked her feet as her tail lashed back and forth, a sob tearing from her throat. Alarmed, the blonde hastened, hesitating only once she drew within range of the omega’s personal space. 

Cifera looked up as the alpha approached, pulling her knees to her chest and turning away. Aglaea took that as a sign to stop, so she did. She remained about four arm-lengths away. She opened her mouth to speak, but she clamped her jaws shut before saying a word. This was one of those times when she needed to let Cifera have full control. 

Eventually, Cifera spoke. “Stupid Agy. Why are you here?” She sniffled, bringing up a hand to wipe away her tears and runny nose. Her tail was coiled tightly around her calf. 

The blonde thought her words through carefully. “I’m here because I care about you more than some banquet.” 

“Sorry I bailed,” Cifera mumbled. 

Aglaea took an experimental step closer. Cifera didn’t react, so the blonde took a few more. Once she reached a second crate just about ten paces away, she sat down. The alpha was conscious to withdraw her pheromones as much as she could, letting Cifera’s scent blanket the area. Peeking her head up from her knees, Cifera appraised Aglaea’s form with wary eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?” the blonde gently probed. 

“Not really, but I know it’ll just get worse the longer I put this off.” Cifera put her legs down, letting her feet and calves rest against the side of her crate. “When that guy called me your mate, I just freaked out. And I hate that I ran because it wasn’t even your fault!” 

There were so many things Aglaea could have said in response, most too selfish to ever leave her mind. So she opted for silence instead. My suspicions were correct. She ran because she doesn’t want to be seen as my mate, but how is that not my fault? 

“I like you, Agy. I really do. You’re handsomely beautiful. You treat everyone with respect, even if they don’t deserve it. And you’ve always understood me in a way that no one else does.” Several tears fell from Cifera’s eyes. She didn’t bother wiping this time, hands curled into fists on her lap. “It’s impossible not to fall in love with you.” 

Those words should have made Aglaea happy. In any other context, it would have been enough to make the blonde’s heart soar. But here and now, sitting in this damp, dusty underground, the confession was a weight anchoring the two of them in misery. Because even though Cifera felt this way—even though Cifera loved her—it wasn’t enough. 

Still, Aglaea had to try. She couldn’t let Cifera think her feelings were one-sided. “I feel the same way about you,” she confessed. “I think I have loved you since before I understood what love truly was. Cifera, you—.” 

The Dolosian didn’t let her finish. “No you don’t!” In a burst of anger, Cifera slammed one fist against the crate, punching a hole through the wood. “Even if we say we love each other, how can you or I ever know if it’s true or not? I’m an omega, you’re an alpha. Biology alone dictates that we’re compatible! Our bodies don’t need any other reason to trick our minds into thinking that’s called love.” 

Aglaea wanted to retort, to push back and insist that neither Zagreus nor Mnestia would ever be so cruel. But her lips refused to part and her tongue felt like a rock in her mouth. Because as much as she could deny it, there was a small part of the alpha that felt the same insecurities. A part of her that had to concede Cifera’s point. After all, the blonde grew up accepting that she would mate with whomever her parents chose for her. She hadn’t cared about love then. That Aglaea would have never dreamed of partnering with a beta or another alpha. If Cifera had differentiated into a beta, the blonde wasn’t so sure she would have asked to be mates, even though she would have still liked all the same aspects of Cifera that she does now. And that’s precisely the problem. 

Her silence was all the confirmation Cifera needed. “We can’t be together.” Even though her voice was hoarse from crying, the omega’s statement was firm. She left no room for doubt. “We can’t keep playing this will-they, won’t-they game.” 

Aglaea nodded in agreement, feeling something hot and wet trailing down her cheeks. 

“We can be friends. I don’t want to lose that,” Cifera clarified. It did little to soften the pins and needles that stabbed at Aglaea’s heart, nor to soothe the numbness that quickly spread throughout her body. “But tomorrow morning, I want everyone to know that friends is all we’ll ever be.” 

xvi

The loss of Cerydra and Hysilens was sudden, but not unexpected. Amphoreus at large was still an active war zone, in no small part due to the Imperator’s conquests. But the Flame-Chase Journey did not die with them. That’s what Cerydra trained Cipher and Aglaea for, to take up that leadership mantle for the next generation. It was easier said than done. 

Cipher wasn’t into this realpolitik game. She was a huge fan of trickery and deception, but she still had morals. The same could not be said for all the nobles and diplomats that suddenly crawled out of the shadows. She wouldn’t last a day in the political arena without scratching someone’s face, which is why she volunteered to gather intel on all of these newcomers. 

It’s not like any of them would have taken her seriously, either. She had the triple whammy of unfortunate circumstances. She was not born into a noble family, she was a zoion with obvious animal features, and she was a female omega. Even with her golden threads, Aglaea could not possibly find anyone less likely to garner respect in a room full of pompous, old-money, male alphas. 

The Tribiosi weren’t faring much better. Not only were they also a female omega, but they were stuck in the bodies of a thousand children. No self-respecting noble would take orders from a kid. No wonder Cerydra’s methods were so ruthless. They wouldn’t give her the time of day if she wasn’t. 

In the end, Aglaea was the only one whom the other politicians showed even an ounce of respect toward. To take up the mantle of the Flame-Chase Journey, the blonde showed a side of herself that Cipher rarely got to see. It was an Aglaea who was not afraid to throw around her alpha status and wealth to get things done. It was an Aglaea whom the alpha’s parents would have loved to witness. 

And Cipher knew how much the older woman hated every second of it. She could see the enthusiasm draining from Aglaea’s eyes in real time. When they passed by one another in the halls, the blonde no longer had time to stop and chat. She was always so tense, and her silk and linen scent filled every room she entered, leaving no doubt as to her authority. 

It was only day five since the transition of power, and the Dolosian feared the pressure had already broken Aglaea. Cipher didn’t know how to fix her.

xvii (tw: drug-induced rut) 

Aglaea stared down Damocles across the walkway. Despite her best efforts, her glare did not deter the Elder from approaching. The beta stepped into her personal space—a power play. He slipped a piece of parchment into her hands before walking away. She glared at his retreating form before opening the letter. It was a list of names, each accompanied by a city-state and a ruler. Aglaea had seen lists like this enough times to know what it meant. 

Because the Imperator was a beta, the Council of Elders did not bother to pressure her into finding a mate. Instead, they pressured her into choosing a mate for Hysilens, Aglaea, and Cifera. Of course, the Imperator never caved, and so it was not until Aglaea became the new leader that she learned how persistent the Council could be. 

She was certain at least some of the omegas listed were fine people, and they probably all grew up as resigned to their fates as political pawns as she had. But Aglaea had long accepted that there was only one person for her, regardless of dynamic. Unfortunately, Cifera was the one mate she could never have. She could live with that, so long as the Dolosian remained safe and happy. And even if Cifera did not care whom she bedded, the blonde had no interest in mating for reasons other than love. It was only now that she had the power to make sure of it. 

Annoyingly, the annual city-state gala was tonight. It was the one day out of the entire year that the region’s various rulers and delegates came together in a truce. Every person named on the Council’s list would be in attendance, and Aglaea had no doubt that the Elders would do everything in their power to force her into a conversation with as many of those omegas as possible. She would have to make sure one of the Tribiosi was around at all times. 

Whatever it was that Aglaea expected the Council to do, the reality was so much worse. As she passed through the ballroom, greeting guests left and right, she made sure not to stay in any one place for too long. Otherwise, it would give the Elders an opportunity to trap her in endless conversations. 

During one such pass, she was accosted by her least favorite Elder, Caenis. The woman’s pale blue eyes held a malicious glee as she stopped the alpha. “Aglaea, Aglaea. Do you ever stop moving?” 

“Elder Caenis,” the blonde acknowledged. “What business do you have that is so urgent you cannot wait for tomorrow?” She already had several threads extended, ready to scan the Elder’s body for hidden weapons. She shouldn’t have bothered waiting for a warning sign. 

“Oh, nothing. I just wanted to wish you an enjoyable evening.” Aglaea flinched as she felt something prick her neck. “Remember to dig deep with your canines, or else the mark won’t last.” 

As Caenis walked away, Aglaea used her threads to check her neck. Whatever that was, it wasn’t meant to kill her. Not immediately, anyway. The blonde began searching for her teacher, making it all of a few steps before the Council’s nefarious plans came to light. 

The ballroom suddenly felt very hot, and a tingling sensation traveled throughout Aglaea’s body, starting from her groin. She felt herself stirring, undergarments growing taut. The next breath she took was a sensory overload. In a room packed with at least one hundred people, she could smell each and every one of them all at once. It was enough to make her head hurt. 

She raised one hand to her now sweaty forehead, and her objective changed to finding somewhere to sit. Very quickly, others began to notice something was wrong. The biggest tell was how Aglaea’s alpha pheromones exploded into the air. Her scent was saturated enough that even several of the betas began coughing. 

Most people scurried out of Aglaea’s path. Whenever another alpha was too slow for her comfort, a growl escaped her lips, growing increasingly feral. Every whiff of an omega only worsened the blonde’s symptoms. She didn’t have to look down to know that she now had a prominent tent in her pants. There was also a heavy gait to her steps as she tried to create as much friction down there as she could with each movement. Anything to alleviate her arousal. 

The Council—the bastards they were—had somehow forcefully triggered Aglaea’s rut. And they must have done something to chemically enhance her cycle as well, because her ruts had never been this stimulating before, even her first one. Her body’s desire for sexual satisfaction was quickly taking over her mind. She didn’t even realize she was at the wall until she bumped into it. 

“Agy!” Tribbie’s voice was a like a beacon, shining through the lustful fog. On account of her curse, the red-haired demigod was the only omega unaffected by Aglaea’s current condition. In the background, Trianne led the other Tribiosi in evacuating the ballroom. Tribbie maintained her distance, making sure to stay out of arm’s reach. 

“My teacher,” Aglaea gasped between moans. “Help me.” She didn’t mean it in that way. And she hoped Tribbie understood as well. 

Her teacher fluttered about anxiously, looking back and forth for something, anything. Then, she darted away, soon returning with a Garmentmaker. Of course! Why didn’t I think of that? Aglaea tried to extend her golden threads to the mannequin, only to find that she couldn’t. In this drugged state, she lacked the mental focus to control even a single thread. She did not want to think about the implications of this situation for Okhema’s communications infrastructure. 

Tribbie let the Garmentmaker fall to the ground. “Just stay right there, Agy! We’ll find some beta guards to escort you back to your room. And, um, do you want us to bring you an omega? A willing one, of course!” 

That offer had never sounded so tempting. Aglaea was surely desperate enough to fuck anyone who landed in her bedsheets. But she knew she would never forgive herself if she did. She refused to let the Council’s underhanded tricks be the reason she lost control of her own humanity, reduced to the basest of biological needs. 

“No,” she ground out between gritted teeth. It was growing harder to form a coherent sentence. “Do it. . .myself.” The next few minutes passed by in a blur. Aglaea only vaguely remembered palming herself through her pants as she waited for the guards to arrive. She hoped that was a memory she’d forget once this rut passed. As she locked herself in her room and collapsed onto her bed, she could finally let go. And if she deluded herself enough, she might’ve even caught the faint trace of slightly sweet gemstones in the air outside her chambers. 

xviii

Wearing the face of another, Cipher looked down at the crowd gathered in the Dawncloud amphitheater. To the Okheman faithful, a young, charismatic alpha named Atticus had just proclaimed the inextinguishable nature of the Dawn Device. It was a lie so bold, no one even considered the possibility that the priest spoke anything but the truth. It was a lie that sealed Cipher’s fate. 

During the Hundred-Day Feast, Atticus remained in the spotlight. He reassured the citizens that everything would be alright, that under Kephale’s light they could let go of all their mortal ails. At the conclusion of the festival, the priest declared that he would go into self-exile, meditating on Kephale’s great gift and seeking enlightenment. None dared to question why their new savior would disappear so soon. 

No longer disguised, Cipher slipped through the the backstreets of Okhema. She trekked from Dawncloud back to what was once the Imperator’s palace. Now, it was an extension of the Marmoreal Palace, connected by a grand skywalk. The Dolosian passed by the weave shop along the way, stopping for a moment to admire the store’s facade. It was no longer the Goldweaver, Aglaea having sold the location soon after she stepped into the formal leadership position. A pang of nostalgia coursed through Cipher’s heart. 

Careful not to set off any of the golden threads, Cipher entered her room. She dug into her closet, retrieving a familiar cloak-turned-hood. She fastened the hood over her head, wiggling her to ensure the fabric remained breathable. Picking up a travel bag by her desk, she stuffed the essentials into it. A change of clothes. A few suppressants. A bag of balance coins. A handful of gems. Her gaze shifted toward her bookshelf, where a new copy of her favorite childhood story was on display. This time, when she left the book behind, it was by choice. Anything else that was important but wouldn’t fit into the bag, she stuffed inside Bartholos’ stomach. The Spirithief was unusually quiet. He must have realized what was happening and kept his complaints to himself. 

She opened her window, crouching on the sill. She stared at the beautiful nighttime view. Cipher savored every second, knowing she would never again return to this home. She pulled her scent in as much as possible, deploying a bit of Zagreus’ divine power to help. Like a thief in the night, she dropped down two stories to the ground, landing in the Garden of Life with a quiet thud. Cipher froze for a moment, listening intently for any sign that the noise woke someone up. 

Hearing nothing but the standard night guard patrol, Cipher took off. She weaved through alleys and side streets, evading all the places she knew Aglaea had her surveillance set up. She also avoided the nooks and crannies that the various Tribiosi slept in. This was the hardest part: leaving without saying goodbye. But the omega knew that if either of her fellow demigods asked her to stay, she’d lose the will to go. 

A sense of dread filled Cipher the closer she got to the gates that led to the world outside Okhema. It was a foreboding premonition, vindicated when she saw the last person she wanted to meet. It was Aglaea. The blonde stood slightly hunched over, catching her breath. She’d evidently rushed over from the palace, still in her semi-sheer nightgown. The alpha wasn’t even wearing shoes. 

Cipher tried to sneak past, but she couldn’t escape the golden threads’ detection. “Cifera!” Aglaea spun in her direction as soon as the threads wound themselves around the younger woman. There was fear in the blonde’s eyes, and the threads pulled even tighter once she confirmed she had the right person. 

“Let me go, seamstress!” Cipher yowled, struggling against her binds. At her command, the threads immediately released her, but they remained suspended in air and poised to pursue should she bolt away. 

It’d been a few months since they last saw each other in person. A hurt look crossed Aglaea’s face as she realized what Cipher was about to do. “You’re leaving again? Already?” 

“Yes, I am,” Cipher hissed. Her tail lashed back and forth, and she let her hair raise to show her displeasure. “I’m not your prisoner, Aglaea. I can go wherever I please, whenever I please!” 

The blonde’s nose crinkled as she sensed the change in Cipher’s scent, conveying the omega’s anger. “At least give me a reason,” Aglaea pleaded. She sounded pathetic, but that was better than her reciprocating the Dolosian’s feigned anger. I can work with pathetic. I just have to say the right thing to make her give up. “Was it something I did?” The blonde made no effort to hide the tears streaming down her pretty face. 

“There’s no reason. I just don’t want to see you anymore!” Aglaea’s expression crumpled as Cipher’s words cut deep. The alpha fell to her knees as her scent morphed into something rotten. Cipher had never smelled something so foul, not even from the slain corpses during her original journey to Okhema. Oh, Titans. Is this what pure heartbreak smells like? 

As Aglaea began sobbing openly on the ground, Cipher resisted the urge to rush to her side and release soothing omega pheromones. She grabbed her tail just to have something else to occupy her hands. I’ve come this far. It’s too late to change my mind. Cipher turned and walked through the city gates. For the second time in her life, she left behind her home and the niche she’d established for herself. It was cold. It was heartless. It was necessary. 

Cipher couldn’t go through a heartbreak like that ever again. So she became a traveling wanderer, floating from city-state to city-state and never putting down new roots. She wore so many faces and disguises that it was sometimes hard to remember who she really was. Bartholos was her only companion, and she got to know the Spirithief far better than she’d ever wanted to. But he remembered the stories she told him. He was the only proof of the Cifera and Cipher who existed before Dawncloud. 

Unfortunately, biology remained her enemy. Her countless disguises did not make her heat cycle vanish. Initially, she’d find a willing alpha to help her, but it never felt right. The first time she spent the night with someone, she felt sick for days after. She even got tested for any new diseases, but her results came back clean. Eventually, Cipher realized it was because her heart and her mind remained unsatisfied. None of those alphas would ever be Aglaea, no matter how much she lied to herself. She stopped looking for substitutes after the first year. 

Every now and then, Cipher would return to Okhema. As ill-advised as it was, she couldn’t not know how Aglaea and the Tribiosi were doing. In Cipher’s absence, it really seemed like nothing had changed. Aglaea was still leading the Flame-Chase Journey, sacrificing more and more of her humanity as the decades wore on into centuries. The number of Tribiosi dwindled, yet Tribbie and her remaining sisters kept their positive outlook. The espionage duties fell onto Cipher’s network of trained wild cats that she’d left behind, exactly as she planned. 

Though the wild cats would not betray the Flame-Chase Journey, they never reported to Aglaea when they secretly passed information along to Cipher. It was her way of keeping tabs on everyone, even on the occasions when she didn’t enter the city proper. 

In the years she felt particularly bold and fearless, Cipher would sneak into the Marmoreal Palace. Predictably, her room remained untouched. But it was reassuring to confirm that they hadn’t repurposed her room or given it to someone else. If I ever came home, moving back in would be as simple as remembering where my room was. 

Aglaea’s room was also where Cipher remembered it to be. It had a large adjoined bath and a substantial closet for the blonde’s creations. The place almost always had a Garmentmaker stationed inside, making it especially cumbersome to drop by undetected. That was for the best, because Cipher couldn’t afford to get caught, and the more she visited, the greater the odds. Sometimes, the Garmentmaker was gone. Those were the days the omega would sneak in and plunder the closet. 

Each haul was enough to help Cipher through her heats for at least five years, even as Aglaea’s scent faded over time. She only needed the tiniest remnant of the alpha in order to conjure a convincing illusion of the older woman. It was imperfect, as she didn’t know what every aspect of Aglaea looked or felt like, but she could make approximations. 

Cipher promised herself that, as soon as Aglaea found a mate, she would let go for good. The Dolosian was pretty sure she haunted the blonde’s nightmares. The blonde didn’t need the specter of a long lost first love haunting her love life as well. So far, that day had yet to come. It made Cipher simultaneously sad yet pleased. 

xix

Aglaea took shuddering breaths, unintentionally sucking in warm water as she did. That damn Caenis. She couldn’t even give me the luxury of a quick death. Every movement hurt, and her chest pumped out golden ichor at an alarming rate. But that wasn’t her concern anymore. She’d long come to terms with her eventual death. 

She could hear people in the bathhouse frantically rushing around. Someone pressed something against her chest, trying to stop the bleeding. The pain kept Aglaea conscious, the sweet relief of death and the prospect of a reunion with Castorice on the other side eluding her. How many people have I lost on this Flame-Chase Journey? Cerydra. Hysilens. Hundreds of Tribiosi. For all intents and purposes, Cifera. And, most recently, Castorice and Anaxa, both on the same day. Even one loss was too many, yet she was powerless to keep those she cared about around her. 

A particularly forceful press against her chest knocked Aglaea out of her musings. The scent of hay fell over her, and a water-muffled voice tried to reassure her. “Lady Aglaea, please hang on for just a little longer! Little Ica, grab the bandages from my bag!” It was Hyacinthia. Aglaea wanted to tell the young doctor not to waste her supplies, but the alpha’s tongue wouldn’t cooperate. 

Her head lulled to the side, but she lacked the strength to do anything about it. Face now half-submerged in the bath, she could taste the iron in the water. The closer she came to death, the more her mental state deteriorated. 

Aglaea blinked, suddenly finding herself face to face with her father. 

Adonis looked down on her powerless form, disdain clear in his eyes. “So this is how Mnestia’s legacy ends. Not in triumph but humiliation.” He walked closer, lifting one foot and placing his shoe on Aglaea’s crotch. “Do you think you’ve lived a life worthy of being an alpha?” He ground his shoe into her groin, ignoring her whimpers of pain. 

“Cinny, she’s starting to turn blue!” 

“That beautiful face, how ugly it has become with all these tears.” Ophelia joined her husband in looking down at their daughter. She kneeled, hand cupping Aglaea’s cheek. Her hand trailed its way down the alpha’s face and neck, stopping at her unblemished scent glands. “You were born with everything served to you on a golden platter, yet you die without a single heir. Not even a mate.” Her parents shook their heads in disappointment. 

Aglaea couldn’t breathe. Her body refused to inhale, and whatever did find its way into her lungs was nothing but water. She let out a gurgling cough, something catching in her throat. From the metallic tang, it must have been blood. In her dying moments, she didn’t want to face the weight of her family’s expectations. She wanted to die peacefully, in a way that could memorialize true beauty as she had demonstrated to Mnestia all those centuries ago. 

The blonde alpha stood beside a crib, staring lovingly at the baby girl who slept within. To think that she had played a role in creating new life, and that she would now have the honor of nurturing this little seed into a beautiful flower. She and Cifera had not yet picked a name for their little treasure, but they knew she would have a better childhood than either of her parents had. 

Aglaea tore her gaze away from her newborn daughter so she could check on her wife and mate. Cifera was sprawled across a sofa, shirt still pulled up from when she breastfed the child. The omega was exhausted, understandably so. Taking soft, quiet steps so as to not awake either of her darlings, Aglaea scooped Cifera into her arms. The younger woman’s body curled into her embrace as they moved to the bed. 

With some effort, Aglaea managed to disentangle her arms from Cifera’s tail. She brushed a hand along the back of her lover’s head, rubbing the spot at the base of her ears that could soothe even the worst of the omega’s moods. Aglaea crossed the room, turned off the lights, and hurried back to the bed. 

But as the alpha settled in next to her mate, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. She stared up at the ceiling and blinked. Cifera was exhausted, but okay. Their daughter was sleeping soundly, for now. They had a roof over their heads and clothes on their backs. If she got up and went into the kitchen, she was sure she’d find plenty of food and water. 

Then, it hit her. It was quiet. Too quiet, even for the middle of the night. Where were the chirps of the night insects? Where were the hoots of owls waking up to start their days? And the scents in the air. She could only smell three of them. Hers, Cifera’s, and their daughter’s. 

Aglaea rolled out of bed and walked to the window. She pulled open the curtains and saw hell on earth. Outside, Okhema was a barren wasteland. Debris littered the streets, or what was left of them anyway. Bodies were strewn about, and stench of death permeated life itself. In the sky, everything was wrong. The sun and the moon shone simultaneously, but the sun was a dark, angry red and the moon was a pitch black void of nothingness. 

Aglaea died as she lived, her thoughts consumed by the well-being of Amphoreus. There could be no happy ending for her and Cifera if Amphoreus ceased to be a home. They of golden blood were born into this world to serve a single purpose: to usher in the new dawn. Her feelings for Cifera were real, but they were never part of the plan. And that made their happy ending expendable. 

xx

Cipher heaved, but she had no more bile to expel. Still, her body continued insisting on emptying her stomach, asking her to give more when she had nothing left. Just like that damned prophecy. Each cough caused another wave of golden blood to pour from her chest. That Flame Reaver was a nasty fellow. After both Dolos and now the gaping slash through her chest, Cipher could say for certain that that monster enjoyed watching his victims suffer.  

The feline zoion’s claws scraped weakly against the stone bridge, the only expression of anger she could muster. Walk with greed, die over petty change. Move aside, biology. Looks like I got screwed over by the prophecy as well. Cipher refused to accept that this was the way her life would end. After losing her granny, her hometown, her second home in Okhema, and Aglaea, this was the best Amphoreus had to repay her? A lonely death in the middle of a literal ghost town with no one to mourn her passing? She was going to die for the Coreflame of Worldbearing, but that Deliverer Boy would get all the credit? What a joke. 

She leaned back against the wall, no longer having the will to lean forward. If she vomited on her clothes, it wouldn’t matter anyway. It’s not like Princess Homebody was going to go through the effort of bringing her chewed up lunch to the Netherrealm as well. 

Cipher was ready to close her eyes and be done with everything. But then she spotted a flash of gold. Struggling, she turned her to left. There, on the railing, was a golden nymph. Aglaea? But how? 

The smell of fresh silk and linen drew Cipher’s gaze to the other side of the platform. Her jaw dropped. There stood Aglaea, as radiant and ethereal as she had been in life. The blonde’s back was toward her as the woman gazed out at the sea. She must have felt Cipher’s gaze or something, because she soon turned around. 

Those calm, yellow-green eyes ran up and down Cipher’s slouched form, filled with unabashed affection. The Dolosian shifted a little, trying to straighten her posture. Aglaea smiled, walking in her direction with measured steps. If the Flame Reaver didn’t kill Cipher, then the anticipation surely would! The alpha came to a halt right in front of her. 

“Agy,” Cipher murmured. 

“Thank you. Your lie bought Okhema another seven hundred years of light.” Aglaea extended her right hand. Cipher used all her remaining strength to grasp it, the contact sending a shiver down her spine. “Cifera,” the blonde’s voice was impossible soft, “you are the unsung hero of Amphoreus.” 

Cipher liked the way the title rolled off the alpha’s tongue. The journey was long and fraught with pain and loss, but she would do it all over again just to hear Aglaea say those words once more. Amphoreus needed a hero. So why not her? 

xxi

Aglaea still couldn’t believe that the Trailblazer’s plan had worked. But as she stood in the Eternal Page, she was living proof. She no longer had access to the golden thread, and Mnestia’s Coreflame had long ceased to burn in her heart. Instead, a newfound spark took hold, one called hope. 

Even if it took another thirty-three million recurrences, the wait was worth it for the chance at truly living. Without the simulation and Lygus’ experiments, Aglaea had the freedom to live for herself. No more prophecy, no more Flame-Chase Journey. 

According to the Trailblazer and Cyrene, everyone who ever was in Amphoreus now lived somewhere in the Eternal Page. Across all those recurrences, there were sure to be millions of them. Being a recognized leader for a substantial portion of these lifetimes, others couldn’t help but look to her for guidance on what to do. 

Thankfully, the Trailblazer was quick to intervene and explain that Aglaea was no longer bound by fancy titles. Here, she was just another person, everyone’s equal. The alpha felt only a slight remorse as she began turning away those who came to her for leadership. It was high time to take control of her own life. 

There was only one person Aglaea knew she had to find. But, as usual, Cifera was elusive. To her annoyance, the first significant people the blonde had stumbled across were her parents. Adonis and Ophelia always died before she achieved much of anything in life. Now that they discovered she was one of the heroes of Amphoreus, they had nothing but praise to heap upon her. She delighted in informing her parents that she wanted nothing to do with them, even forsaking her prestigious family name. 

Next, she found the youngsters from the second generation of Chrysos Heirs. Unsurprisingly, Phainon and Mydei were engaged in one of their alpha competitions. Castorice, Polyxia, and Hyacine watched from the sidelines, cheering every now and then. She didn’t look too hard for Anaxa, but she presumed he would be near the dromas or with other scholars from the Grove. 

It was hard to miss Tribios. While the priestess had temporarily regained her adult form as the Chrysos Heirs gathered around the Trailblazer’s campfire, it seemed the red-haired woman could not sustain the form for long. All one thousand Tribiosi spread out across the Eternal Page. Tribbie had helpfully dragged Aglaea to where Cerydra and Hysilens were. 

Like fate so often loves to do, Cifera was the last Chrysos Heir that Aglaea found. The Dolosian was tucked away in a humble little cottage, enthusiastically recounting her adventures to an elderly woman. Bartholos was there, too, forced to corroborate the omega’s claims. 

Aglaea hung back at first, unsure whether she had any right to intrude on what was clearly a private reunion. She stood there for longer than she’d like to admit, to the point where it became a little creepy. Of all sentient beings, it was Bartholos who bailed her out, likely just to save his own skin. 

“Oh, look at that, it’s the seamstress! I bet she can confirm your stories as well. Buh-bye, Boss Lady. See you tomorrow!” The Spirithief teleported behind Aglaea, forcefully shoving her toward Cifera and the old lady. 

The alpha nearly lost her balance, but a tail wrapped around her waist and pulled her upright. She followed the tail back to its owner, coming face-to-face with Cifera for the first time in, well, she wasn’t sure how many years it all added up to now. The two simply stared at one another, light blushes dusting each of their cheeks. 

“Hello, dear. That talkative grape wasn’t too rough with you, was he?” Aglaea broke the staring contest, turning her attention to Cifera’s companion. The elderly lady was not a zoion, so she wondered what her relation to the omega was. 

“Um, Aglaea. This is my Granny. Granny, this is one of the other demigods I was telling you about, Aglaea.” Cifera seemed unusually nervous, gaze flicking back and forth between the two other women. 

Cifera’s granny ran a scrutinizing gaze up and down Aglaea’s body, not unlike the way the blonde’s parents frequently had. It made the alpha a little uneasy, so she took a step back. Then, the old lady smiled brightly. “You look just as beautiful as my Cifera said you are. My name is Annas, but you can call me Granny as well. Whichever you prefer is fine by me, dear.” 

Both demigods blushed, one because a secret of hers had been exposed and the other because she was pleased by the compliment. “Thank you, Lady Annas. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Aglaea offered her hand for a shake, but the granny pulled her into a hug. The alpha momentarily froze at the unexpected contact, but she eventually melted into the warm embrace. 

“Granny, you can let go now! You’re making her uncomfortable.” Cifera put her hands on Annas’ shoulders, gently pulling her away. “Sorry. I know you don’t like being touched without permission, and I definitely told Granny about it.” 

“It’s okay, Cifera. I trust that your grandmother doesn’t intend to hurt me.” Aglaea offered a respectful bow to Annas, showing she took no offense. At the old lady’s insistence, the alpha spent the rest of the day at the cottage. Upon learning that the alpha was also a seamstress, Annas was more than happy to divulge all her tips and tricks. She knew many stitching techniques and patterns that had become lost to time after Dolos’ destruction. 

If Aglaea thought that first afternoon was a sign things between her and Cifera would improve, she was sorely mistaken. Sure, the two were friendly and even hung out frequently. But there was a noticeable tension between them, and neither woman acknowledged the open secret that they had mutual romantic feelings. Perhaps they were just far too used to letting destiny and society get in the way. 

An indeterminate amount of time later, Aglaea sat with Hysilens at a café. The blonde stirred her cup of tea as she sighed. Hysilens sipped on a latte. “Why the long face, golden trout?” 

“I’ve secured a location to open up a tailor shop.” Aglaea gestured to a vacant storefront across the square. It looked exactly like her Goldweaver shop from a lifetime ago, save for the sign displaying the shop’s name at the top. She hadn’t made that yet. 

“That sounds like a good thing, though?” Hysilens turned around to inspect the storefront, searching for whatever it was that would make the place a disappointment to the Goldweaver. 

“It is,” Aglaea clarified, “but I’d like to hire some staff to help me run it.” 

“I see.” Hysilens smirked, knowing immediately what the hangup was now. “Did the kitten fish tell you no?” 

The blonde shook her head. “It’s more like I haven’t asked her yet, and I don’t know if I even should.” 

The brunette alpha leaned in. “Didn’t you two run a weave shop together in Okhema? What makes this any different?” 

“We’re not the same people we were back then. We now have millions of lifetimes of memories to sort through.” Aglaea stared into her cup, as if the herbal tea would hold all the answers to the enigma that was her and Cifera’s situationship. “And even if we limit ourselves to the most recent recurrences, Cifera and I are not the same people we were in those early days. Our relationship changed, and I fear that Cifera’s feelings may have changed as well.” 

“You never did tell me what happened after I left,” Hysilens hummed in agreement. “I think the closest you got was that one tablet discussing how lonely you felt.” 

Aglaea winced. She’d like to have that one back. It was a very dark and desperate period of her life when she wrote it. And she didn’t realize that Hysilens actually received those messages. “It’s. . .complicated.” 

“It always is. Are you going to let that stop you?” 

“No, you don’t understand,” Aglaea insisted. “Cifera was very clear that we could never be more than friends. I thought that I was okay with that, but. . .” 

“But after you tasted that life, now you want more.” Hysilens leaned back in her chair, sighing as the messiness made itself known. 

“I do, and that’s the problem. Because how can I face Cifera and demand more than what she’s already allowed me to have?” Aglaea buried her face in her palms, trying to block out the sounds and scents around her. “As an alpha yourself, surely you understand where I’m coming from.” 

A distant look glazed over Hysilens eyes as she reflected on her own memories. “Maybe I do, maybe I don’t.” She gave a non-committal shrug. “I don’t know what it’s like to be an omega, but I have swum with you and the kitten fish for years. If you ask for too much, trust that she’ll let you know.” 

“Right,” Aglaea said, though she wasn’t terribly convinced. It still felt a bit too sudden to be so blunt. But Hysilens wasn’t exactly wrong, either. As she watched the older alpha take another sip of her latte, an idea struck her. Her tailor shop would, hopefully, have two new employees by the end of the day. 

xxii

It was strange, living in the Eternal Page without the threat of a universe-destroying monster at her doorstep. Everything was so peaceful now. Kids could play on the street and at the park without a care in the world. Money wasn’t really a necessity when one could just will what they need into existence. That people took jobs was more an exercise in having a stable routine than a way to earn a living. 

Cipher felt like she was one of people who struggled the most to adjust. The revival of the fallen city-states meant zoions were a far more common sight in the Page. Memories of everyone’s shared struggle to survive and the Trailblazer’s promise of the future meant that people were far more understanding of their differences. 

She didn’t have to fight for survival anymore, and that felt like it should be a lie. But it wasn’t a lie. In this idyllic place, there was no need for lies or deception. Cipher spent millions of lifetimes honing a skillset that this new world had no need of. Do the other Heirs feel this way? Maybe some of the more combat-focused ones did, like Hysilens or the Little Prince. But others flourished. Like Aglaea. 

The moment Aglaea re-opened her tailor shop, the people came flooding in. With money no longer an issue and seemingly infinite time, everyone could eventually get their hands on one of the Goldweaver’s famed works. It was a good thing Cipher and Hysilens agreed to help out, because not even Aglaea could manage all this work on her own. 

The omega appreciated how busy the business was at the moment. It meant less down time for her think about the pathetic state her Aglaea’s relationship deteriorated into. And it was mostly her own fault. 

On the surface, everything was normal. For the younger Heirs, their relationship probably seemed like a vast improvement given that she wasn’t actively avoiding the alpha. But Cipher was painfully aware of all the glances Aglaea sent her way when she thought the younger woman wasn’t paying attention. She heard every little intake of breath as if the blonde was going to say something, only for her to bail out. And she noticed the way Aglaea maintained a certain physical distance, as if she thought Cipher would run away if they were too close. 

It was clear that Aglaea wasn’t going to make the first move to close this gap. Actually, that’s unfair. She invited me to join her at the tailor shop.

It was clear that Aglaea wasn’t going to take the next step to close this gap. Which meant it was up to Cipher. But am I ready, and what would that next step even be? She considered asking her fellow omegas for advice, but as far as she was aware, none of them had any relationship experience. Big Sis Tribbie spent most of her life broken into a thousand pieces. Princess Homebody’s death touch was a whole issue of its own. And the Pink Cupcake seemed too kind and innocent to shatter someone’s heart as thoroughly and ruthlessly as Cipher had Aglaea’s. 

She was pretty sure Aglaea had already taken to asking Hysilens for advice, and Cipher didn’t want to put her fish supplier in the middle of their mess if things somehow got worse. The remaining options were complete non-starters. Cerydra was just as much of an emotional disaster as Cipher and Aglaea were, if not worse. Of the guys, the Little Prince was the only one who would both care and have good advice, but Aglaea probably wouldn’t appreciate her relationship troubles being shared with him like that. Maybe when the Trailblazer stopped by, she could ask them. They always seemed to have sage words of wisdom when you least expected it. 

Still, that meant Cipher would have to forge the path ahead on her own. And she had to do so quickly, because Aglaea’s legion of omega suitors was growing every day. Not even a full week ago, Cipher returned from a delivery just to find a black-haired omega with glasses asking the blonde to help her through her heat. 

She didn’t give Aglaea any time to answer before the Dolosian butted into the conversation. Why, yes, that receipt was an urgent matter that needed to be dealt with immediately. The black-haired omega took one look at the two before she left, not even waiting to hear the alpha’s answer. Cipher didn’t regret scaring off the other woman, but she was disappointed that Aglaea didn’t ask her why she did that. It would’ve been the perfect opportunity to clear the air. 

Now, Cipher sat at her desk, pen at the ready. 

1. Invite Agy to a picnic 
2. Have Granny help me make oatmeal for the picnic 
3. Make sure Agy has eaten at least two bowls of oatmeal so she’ll be in a good mood 
4. Tell Agy I love her 
5. Run away so Agy can’t reject me 

It was a foolproof plan. 

The next day at work, Cipher waited until everything was packed up and Hysilens had left. “Agy, wait up.” She caught the blonde with one foot out the door. 

“Yes, Cifera?” 

“Let’s go on a picnic this weekend.” Cipher turned up the charm, twirling a strand of hair and leaning on the counter. Aglaea’s eyes momentarily dropped to the omega’s cleavage before shooting back up. The Dolosian smirked as the blonde averted her gaze in embarrassment.

“That sounds like a lovely idea.” Aglaea hurried out the door, calling behind as she left, “just message me the details and I’ll be there!” 

Step 1, check. 

Granny didn’t bat an eye when Cipher asked to make oatmeal together. Nor did she pry when her granddaughter returned from the market with enough ingredients to make a week’s worth of oatmeal. That was just one of the reasons why her granny was so awesome. The same could not be said about her oatmeal. Taste-wise, it wasn’t as good as Tribbie’s, but it was more than enough to make Aglaea drop her guard.

Step 2, check. 

On the day of the picnic, Cipher met Aglaea at the Eternal Page’s version of the Garden of Life. It was more crowded than the Okheman original, since access to the area was no longer restricted. But they had spent more than enough time in the garden to know where the best hiding spots were, out of view from the main terrace. 

As Aglaea laid out the picnic blanket, Cipher reached into the basket and withdrew two giant containers of oatmeal. She dug a little deeper and procured an assortment of toppings. She put the can of anchovies next to her bowl, shoving everything else onto the blonde’s side. 

Cipher swore that Aglaea purposefully moaned in satisfaction upon tasting the oatmeal just to mess with her. Granny’s oatmeal is good, but it’s not that good. The alpha ate one-and-a-half containers all by herself. 

Step 3, check. 

After their brunch, the two reclined on the grass for a bit, watching the clouds roll by and coming up with increasingly ridiculous theories about what shape they were. 

“You’re kidding,” Cipher gasped. “There’s no way that looks like Caenis!” 

“It does too,” Aglaea pouted petulantly. “You just have to imagine her being eaten by Verax Leo.” The younger woman let out a scandalized gasp before bursting into laughter. The blonde soon joined her. 

As their laughs died down into giggles and eventually faded away, Cipher felt that the time was right. She rolled onto her side, propping her head up with one hand. The alpha was still looking up at the clouds, taking full advantage of her restored vision. 

“Hey, Aglaea,” she called. The blonde turned her head with a hum. “Can I be serious for a moment?” 

Aglaea’s eyebrows furrowed in concern, using her hands and elbows to push herself up into a sitting position. “Of course.” 

Cipher gulped. She had only one shot, so she had to make sure it counted. “It’s not fate or biology, it’s love.” 

“. . .What?” The blonde gave her a blank stare, not comprehending the meaning of Cipher’s admittedly vague and out-of-context statement. 

The Dolosian cleared her throat, sitting up so she could be at eye-level. “I’ve always had a complicated relationship with who I was born as. I hated that I had golden blood, and then I came to despise being an omega. I thought that those two traits would define how others saw me and the sorts of bonds I could have.” 

A look of understanding settled on Aglaea’s face, but she stayed silent, letting Cipher finish speaking. 

“When you told me that you loved me down in that sewer, I couldn’t believe it. I thought there was no way you could possibly reciprocate my feelings, because you could do so much better than me. I thought you picked me because I was the only option.” Cipher took a shaky breath. This next part was the most important, “But I was wrong. The way you felt and the choice you wanted to make, it wasn’t about our fate as Chrysos Heirs or our biology as alpha and omega. It was about the way you felt when we spent time in each other’s presence and the happiness we created together. That’s love. I understand that now.” 

Cipher could feel tears beginning to drip down her cheek, but she pushed through. “I know it’s probably too late, but I still love you. I always have. And if I could choose anyone to be my mate, my answer will always be you, Agy.” Her voice broke at the end, overcome with a sense of loss. 

Step 4, check. 

Once she was done with her confession, Cipher scrambled to her feet and took off. One second, she was running. The next, she went crashing to the ground. Must’ve tripped on a root or something. That would be just my luck. But roots don’t smell like silk and linen, and they didn’t have arms that can wrap around her. 

When Cipher’s vision cleared, she found herself in Aglaea’s tight grasp. The blonde had her face buried in Cipher’s shoulder, pheromones out of control. Only after the alpha sobbed did Cipher realize that the other woman was crying. Somehow, she’d gone from running away to soothing her beloved. 

Aglaea eventually pulled herself together, lifting her head and wiping away her tears. Her makeup was all smudged now, but the blonde didn’t seem to care. She looked Cipher right in the eyes as she whimpered, “It’s not too late. Never. I never stopped loving you, Cifera.” 

Step 5. . .incomplete.