Page 139 of Axios

We looked on before us, knowing it was our final battle. Our final moments. There was still so much I had to tell him, and yet, I knew not what to say.

His hand touched mine, just like it had always done in the past. A sign that he was with me.

“Ax,” he whispered, meeting my eyes once more. It was a wonder I even heard him through all the surrounding noise, but I had. “In all the ages, there has never been a love like ours. No one has ever loved another as I have loved you. If we fall today, my soul will find yours. For I am eternally yours… in this life and the next.”

“Ery, I lo—”

Our time had ended. The Sacred Band charged, and I deflected a blow. Eryx blocked one as well before driving his sword through the man.

There were maybe two dozen Spartans at our sides, fighting the enemy with all their remaining strength. Some were so bloodied and marked with such severe lacerations; I questioned how they were even still standing. But stood they did.

For Sparta. For each other.

Felix roared as he smashed one man in the face with the hilt of his sword before using his shield to take down another. The men fighting at his side gaped at the quickly advancing force of enemy soldiers before turning and abandoning him.

He was too far away, and I had men around me too.

Thebans surrounded him, and he became harder to see among the wave of bodies. The last sight I saw of him was him staring down the enemy and raising his sword. His hair had fallen free of the strap he’d kept it tied with, and he faced his death with all the fierceness of a Spartan.

My arms could barely hold my shield any longer, but I fought through the heaviness weighing down my muscles. The exhaustion of fighting three men at once. Four. When I killed one, there was no relief or time to recover for another was already swinging for my head again.

A sharp pain penetrated my side, and I gasped. Looking down, I saw the blade buried in my stomach. But I kept fighting. The man withdrew the sword, and as he went to strike again, I was able to knock him aside with my shield.

And then another stabbed into my back at the same time one plunged into my gut.

“Ax!”

Eryx sounded so far away. He yelled again.

I hadn’t realized I had dropped my shield. Everything became distorted, and I shook my head to try to clear it. To focus. Chills dashed through my body and it was difficult to feel my arms and legs—to feel anything.

My body was shutting down. Surrendering to the pain.

I glimpsed fallen Spartans. The commanders were dead: Sphodrias and another called Deinon. Kleonymos, the young man that had sat beside us while Eryx told his story, lay only a few feet away—his eyes open but not seeing.

Ian and Melias were slain as well. Their bloodied bodies upon the ground lay less than a foot apart, as if they had reached for each other before death had claimed them.

That’s when the soldier walked toward me. He was my height and looked to be the same age. A shaven face, but it was mostly covered by his helmet. And he smiled; a cold, menacing smile. He raised his weapon, and I tried to block the hit, but my movements were too sluggish. Too slow.

The sword slashed across my chest.

Falling to my knees, it seemed like the earth shifted below me. All around me. My helmet fell off, and its absence only heightened the noises of war. My fingers grabbed the dirt as I searched for my sword. I tried to stand, but I fell back down. Figures blurred past me and the sun’s glare blinded me to everything else.

I closed my eyes, swaying on my knees.

“Gods. No, no, no.” Eryx roared, and I heard more weapons clank nearby. “Ax! Open your eyes!”

I tried to obey, but failed.

Then, arms came around me. Wetness fell upon my cheek as something soft pressed to my lips. And warmth. So much warmth that chased away the chill.

“Ery?”

I fought to open my eyes. To see him one last time. When I finally managed to, I softly smiled. He was beautiful even when crying. I yearned to touch him, but my arm would not cooperate. Pain shot through my stomach, and I trembled as more blood gushed from the wound.

“Do not be afraid,” he said, brushing my hair from my face and staring into my eyes as if I was the sun and he was the plant needing my light. “Death is not the end.”

My words from long ago drifted through my mind.