The Wrong Kind of Immortality

The morning had gone exactly to plan. That made Orestis suspicious—because nothing had gone wrong so far.

He and Eirene had gone through the usual routine in their garden, and then—once she’d retreated upstairs to wash and dress—he had teleported to the Aretaios estate to handle the part of the day she wasn’t meant to know about. Not yet, anyway.

The garden at the Aretaios estate was already prepared for the gathering. Between Thaleia and his mother, the list of tasks requiring his attention had been whittled down to a single remaining item: bringing Eirene to the gathering.

But that didn’t mean he stopped checking on everything.

A last glance around the area assured him that everything was where it should be. Theleia was next to him, watching him with amused patience. He’d been getting that look a lot over the past week. Orestis didn’t take it personally; she simply didn’t understand how aggressively the universe pursued opportunities for sabotage.

It is imperative that we remove as many as possible before it gets any ideas!

Anyway, Orestis was here for a reason. And he had to return before Eirene realised that he had gone.

Raising a hand, he created an illusion over the specific area of the garden where he planned to open the gate. As the spell settled, an image of the courtyard behind his Theramon house appeared. He moved around inspecting everything from various angles.

“Orestis, I’m sure there’s nothing wrong with your spell,” Thaleia remarked from where she was waiting.

Orestis was about to point out that there was no way she could be certain of that, when he paused.

Wait, why am I doubting my own spellwork?

He allowed himself a moment to acknowledge that he might be taking this quality control thing a bit too far.

“You’re right,” he said standing up straight. “The spell will hold until I return with Eirene.”

With that, he teleported back to his room in Orthessa and spent the remainder of the morning acting entirely normal.

***

Orestis found Eirene waiting for him at the study, Nuri draped over her shoulder.

“Ready to go?” she asked.

“Yes,” he nodded.

Of course, Eirene believed they were heading to Theramon. As far as she knew, his mother had simply invited them over for lunch.

“Before we go—”

He held out a book. It was a spell he designed for her—he couldn’t come up with any other idea, unfortunately.

It will have to do as an extra gift.

Eirene took it with a smile, and her expression shifted to surprise the moment she opened the cover and saw what was inside.

“It’s a birthday gift. You can study it later,” he said as she began flipping through the first couple of pages, inspecting the outline. “My mother’s waiting.”

“Thank you,” she smiled, closing the book. But she did not put it down. Rather than leaving it on the desk, she tucked it under her arm and waited.

Taking the hint, Orestis opened the gate to Theleia’s garden. The far side, of course, showed the Theramon courtyard.

Looks like my trap wasn’t needed, he thought as he stepped through the gate with Eirene.

Just in case she had decided to cast the gate herself, he had set a rerouting ward over the grounds of the Theramon estate. It was set to redirect any gate opened in the vicinity, quietly changing its exit coordinates to Thaleia’s garden, without the caster being any the wiser.

Regardless, having it but not needing it was better than the other way around.

After he closed the gate, Orestis also unravelled the illusion. The Theramon courtyard faded away in a single breath, and in its place was the Aretaios garden—along with the people, who turned toward them all at once.

“Surprise!”

Eirene went still, her eyes widening in surprise. Pleased surprise, as her gaze moved across the assembled faces and back to him.

Orestis had kept his eyes on Eirene the entire time. A smile tugged at his lips as he watched the happiness on her face. Then he turned to look at everyone else as well. And froze.

He had planned for seven. He counted nine.

There at the side, standing beside his parents, were two very conspicuous—and very much uninvited—guests. Eleuthera and Lyse.

His mother was handling invitations, if he recalled. Orestis immediately shot his mother an inquisitive glance, wondering why she would agree to let two divine beings attend. She merely smiled, looking all innocent. He glanced at his father, who only shrugged helplessly.

Right… Of course.

Suppressing a sigh, Orestis walked over to the group with Eirene. While she hugged her parents, Orestis walked over to his own parents with a more measured pace.

“Mother?” he called politely.

“Yes, dear?” She had the grace to look faintly sheepish, which on her was about as repentant as a sunrise.

His father stepped forward and patted Orestis on the shoulder. “I’ll distract the others while you talk,” he said softly.

Orestis gave his father a thankful glance. At least he understood. It was clear that Eirene’s parents had no idea they had two literal goddesses in their garden.

And then, Eleuthera said, “I’ll help!” then pulled his flustered father towards the others.

He watched his father with a look of pity. Clearly his father had no idea how to react to an overly friendly and clingy goddess. But that was for later. He turned to his mother.

“Why do we have two goddesses at a birthday party?” he asked quietly.

In the first place, I should have known something was wrong when she mentioned invitations. I was the fool for assuming she meant only Maxim.

“Well,” she said. “I asked Lyse if Eleuthera might like to come, since she is Eirene’s patron. And it seemed rude not to invite Lyse as well, since she is your and Maxim’s patron.”

Okay—while he could not fault the logic, there were other issues. “And how did you explain their presence to Thaleia?”

“Oh. Eleuthera took care of that part on her own,” his mother replied with a smile. “She introduced herself as Eirene’s friend.”

Orestis glanced across the garden. Eleuthera was several steps away, mid-conversation with Lysandros and Thaleia, looking for all the world like a woman wholly absorbed in whatever pleasantry she was offering them.

And yet, the moment he turned to look her way, she immediately turned to give him the brightest smile. As if she’d been listening to their conversation—which she probably was. As a goddess, such multitasking was a simple matter to her.

Then she turned back to the Aretaios couple without missing a beat.

Lyse, who had been observing silently until then, said, “As for me, I introduced myself as an associate of Eirene, and benefactor to you and Maxim.”

Oh. Well, that works, I suppose. It’s true enough in a broad sense.

And then Lyse added, “Also as an accomplished mage, very high up in the Temple of Proper Passage.”

Orestis gave her a look of disbelief, speechless.

What high up? There is literally no one higher!

“They asked what I did,” Lyse clarified. “I didn’t want to lie.”

“And Maxim was no trouble at all,” Avra said, helpfully, when he continued to stare at the goddess. “Eirene’s parents already knew of him. Apparently she’d already told Thaleia that the three of you were working together in Nomyra.”

Orestis pinched the bridge of his nose. “Eleuthera, I can understand. She is obscure enough to get away with it. But you. Do you have any idea how suspicious it looks when someone introduces herself as Lyse and then claims to work for the Temple of Proper Passage?”

“It’s not strange for the goddess and me to share the same name,” she said, as if she was giving a perfectly reasonable explanation. “It is a good name.”

Orestis stared for a couple of seconds and decided he did not have the energy to pursue it. “Let’s just go join the others.”

The others were already making their way towards the table. It was round, which was probably for the best. Otherwise, deciding who should sit at the head of the table would have been—

He cut off mid thought as a memory surfaced.

Orestis remembered his mother suggesting that Thaleia use a round table instead of a rectangular one. At the time, she’d claimed it would make things feel less formal. More relaxed.

Now, however, considering the guest list, the suggestion took on an entirely different meaning.

After all, how could his mother ever be comfortable letting a mortal occupy the seat of honour while a couple of goddesses were present? On the other hand, without knowing who Lyse and Eleuthera were, how could Lysandros be expected to surrender that same seat in his own home?

Orestis almost laughed.

Looks like Mother found the perfect solution and disguised it as an aesthetic preference.

Just before everyone took their seats, the cutlery, glasses, and serving dishes all shifted across the table by a fraction of an inch. A subtle adjustment here, a tiny rotation there, until everything settled into perfect symmetry.

Lyse inspected the arrangement, nodded once to herself with satisfaction, and sat down. Everyone unfamiliar with her—which, in this case, meant both sets of parents—stared at her in surprise.

The goddess, meanwhile, appeared entirely unaware that she had done anything noteworthy.

“She likes symmetry,” Eleuthera cheerfully explained on behalf of her oblivious friend and took her seat.

Orestis found himself seated between Eirene on one side and Eleuthera on the other. Being assigned a seat next to Eirene was expected. Both his mother and Thaleia would have wanted it that way.

But to have Eleuthera on his other side? He suspected foul play. He gave the goddess a sideways glance. He received a perfectly guiltless smile in return. Too perfect.

He looked across the table to his mother, who had after all arranged the seating with Thaleia. But his mother was—seemingly by coincidence—avoiding his eyes.

And then, through their link, Lyse supplied the answer: Eleuthera insisted on being seated next to you.

I knew it!

Orestis glared at Eleuthera. Her smile widened into a grin even as she continued chatting with the others.

As it turned out, the conversation she’d been having before everyone sat down had not ended during the move to the table. It had merely paused.

Lysandros picked up the conversation as though the spontaneous rearrangement of the tableware had never happened. “You were saying,” he said to Eleuthera, “about how their lifespans can be longer than expected.”

“Yes. A mauthet can live centuries, in the right conditions,” Eleuthera replied. “They’re partly magical in nature, so their lifespan scales with the strength of the bond and the quality of the diet.”

“Centuries. A lifelong companion, then.” Lysandros glanced at Nuri, currently a dark coil on Eirene’s shoulder.

The kitten had been introduced to Eirene’s parents within days of the bond forming. She simply hadn’t been able to resist showing off the little thing to everyone.

“Do they grow larger?” Thaleia asked.

A reasonable question, since some magical creatures were known to grow to enormous sizes.

Eleuthera laughed. “No. That’s about as big as it gets.”

Eirene looked, Orestis thought, rather pleased by that.

From how the conversation proceeded, Orestis got the impression that Eirene’s parents thought of Eleuthera as some sort of exotic-animal expert. Partly owing to how she had been the one to gift the kitten to Eirene. Eleuthera was quite vocal about how she had found such a perfect gift for Eirene’s birthday.

Orestis let her brag. The gathering was clearly more meaningful.

Then there was Maxim. He seemed to draw everyone into conversation without even trying. One moment he was listening; the next, he was discussing the merchant houses of the eastern routes with Lysandros and Petros.

After that, he was talking with Thaleia about the evolving trend of fashion in the north, and their downstream effects in the city.

Then he was discussing how ritual practices differed between Temples and the beliefs that shaped them with Orestis’s mother.

“You have a remarkable breadth of knowledge for one so young,” Thaleia observed.

“He reads a lot,” Orestis remarked. “And he’s older than he looks.”

“Oh, I should have realised,” Thaleia replied. “You must be exceptionally talented then.”

She was assuming Maxim’s youthful look was a consequence of his training. It was common knowledge that the younger a person appeared, the younger they had been when they accumulated enough power to slow the aging process.

“That’s true; I am a prodigy,” Maxim agreed shamelessly.

The idiot’s opinion of himself was as absurdly high as always. Unfortunately, it was also accurate. But just because it was true didn’t make it any less annoying when he said it out loud.

“Modest, too,” Orestis said dryly.

“Just appropriately self-aware,” Maxim said cheerfully. “Besides, I’m hardly the only one at this table. You and Eirene are both geniuses in your own right.”

Maxim’s words earned approving reactions all around—from Avra’s open delight and Petros’s quiet satisfaction to Thaleia’s fond smile and Lysandros’s muted pride.

“We’ve known that about her since she was a child,” Lysandros said while smiling fondly at his daughter.

“It has been my experience that fate always has a way of drawing gifted people to one another,” Lyse observed.

Orestis made a face. She wasn’t wrong, unfortunately. Fate—and seemingly everyone else—seemed determined to involve themselves in the lives of anyone who crossed a certain threshold of ability.

It had been useful when I was the one hunting for talented people. Considerably less useful now that I would prefer everyone forget I exist.

Well, except for his parents. And Eirene.

And maybe one or two other people.

***

Eirene observed the conversation at the table, honestly still a bit surprised that Orestis had been the one to arrange all this.

Maybe not all of it; she still recalled his expression just after the illusion had been removed. When she walked through the gate, she truly did think they were going to Orestis’s home.

A quiet lunch, Avra had said, to celebrate her birthday. The way she’d said it had left Eirene with the impression that Avra was stepping in on Orestis’s behalf—assuming he either hadn’t remembered or hadn’t thought to arrange anything himself.

Avra, it seemed, was far more devious than she looked. She had convinced Eirene that the spellbook was the only thing Orestis had thought to give her for her birthday.

But when the illusion had peeled away to reveal her parents’ garden, he hadn’t been surprised. He hadn’t even been looking at the guests or the decorations. No. Orestis had been watching her.

He had been waiting to see her reaction. And when he’d seen it—when he’d seen her surprise and happiness—something in him had relaxed. He had looked satisfied. Relieved.

That was when she’d known. He had done this. And not because someone told him he should. Not because it was expected. But because he had wanted to do it. For her.

The thought warmed her far more than the surprise itself.

Then he’d turned to the guests. And it had become his turn to be surprised. It was funny watching him counting in his head, then arrive at the wrong number. She watched the exact moment he realised that two of the guests had not been part of his plan.

Eirene had to look away to keep from laughing.

It was rare to catch Orestis off guard. And there was something she could only call fondness in watching it—watching him carried along by an afternoon he’d built and lost hold of, surrounded by people who had decided to care about him whether he’d allowed it or not.

Her parents had no idea that the two extra guests were goddesses, and they were being perfectly gracious to both. They thought Eleuthera was some expert on rare creatures and Lyse a distinguished mage from the temple.

Eirene found she enjoyed that more than almost anything else at the table. Her composed, careful parents were extending their best manners to two goddesses as though they were merely important guests rather than forces of nature.

Of course, Eirene’s parents already knew she had been blessed by Eleuthera, Goddess of Freedom. She’d told them about it a long time ago. And the goddess, playful as ever, had anticipated the issue and introduced herself as ‘Thera’, asking Eirene to play along.

Once the day was over, Eirene would quietly tell her mother the truth. But until then, she would watch. There was no malice in the enjoyment after all. It was simply very funny, in a way only she and Orestis could see—although Orestis was too busy suffering to appreciate it.

So she appreciated it for both of them.

And because she was watching, she noticed some things Orestis was missing.

Like how her father was pleased. Not openly; he was never openly anything. But the usual reserve had softened around the edges, and he had spent much of the meal watching Orestis with the sort of quiet approval he rarely voiced aloud.

Her mother was the same. Every so often, Eirene would catch her watching Orestis with a small, satisfied smile before returning to the conversation.

Avra was even less subtle. Then again, she always was. She looked openly delighted, as though the afternoon had unfolded exactly as she’d hoped. As for Petros, he looked proud of his son, with perhaps a touch of relief mixed in.

Eleuthera was enjoying herself most of all, and doing nothing to hide it. She had seated herself beside Orestis on purpose—Eirene was fairly sure of that—and spent the meal playing the part of a friend and animal expert with obvious relish. Funnily enough, the goddess wasn’t even trying to bother him, and yet it happened anyway.

Lyse was inscrutable as always. Her attention wandered frequently, often settling on things nobody else could see. Yet somehow she never seemed to lose track of the conversation around her.

Maxim was perhaps the strangest of all. There was a quiet curiosity in the way he watched Orestis, but also approval. As though Orestis continued to surprise him in ways he found deeply satisfying. It was an odd expression to direct at someone he was supposedly meant to dislike.

Orestis hadn’t noticed any of it. He was too busy being besieged to see that his own gathering had turned, without his permission, into something warm.

Eirene’s fingers brushed the book in her lap. The afternoon itself would have been enough. Yet he had still felt the need to give her something else.

She had carried it with her the entire time. Even the brief glimpse she’d caught before closing it had been enough to capture her interest. Orestis had built a spell around her mana strings.

She’d only skimmed the outline. Yet she’d understood at once that she was looking at something rare. He had seen possibilities in her technique that she had never considered herself—and the possibilities it opened up were staggering.

It was a remarkable gift. But knowing Orestis, he probably thought of it as a lesser one. As nothing more than a training tool.

He had no idea what he’d made for her. Or what it meant to be given a spell that was uniquely hers.

She glanced over at him. He was listening to Lyse answer her father’s question—how she had come to take an interest in Orestis and Maxim.

“They came to my attention, each for different reasons,” Lyse replied. “Orestis is precise. He values consistency, and he does not waste effort, which I find rare and worth encouraging. Maxim has potential that exceeds his discipline. I have taken it upon myself to address the imbalance.”

An answer with no lies in it, and all the room in the world for interpretation. And judging by Orestis’s sour look, he did not care for what he’d heard.

Eirene could not change that. But she could change his mood.

She cut a slice of Avra’s homemade chocolate cake and set it down in front of him. He glanced at her, gave a small nod of thanks, and dug in. She watched the sour look fade, replaced by a small smile of contentment.

A complicated man. And yet, in some ways, so very simple.

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