—chapter one.

❛ ceyx and alcyone. ❜

HER LONG, BLONDE HAIR WAS LIKE TWIRLING RIBBONS AS SHE RAN, dancing with a mind of their own. She could vaguely feel the familiar ache of restrictive hairstyles at the nape of her neck, where it was normally forced to coil, and also a sense of relief as the spring breeze coaxed each strand to take a whirl in its invisible arms. Her bare feet burned as they pounded against the uneven pavement stones, but the stinging wasn't nearly enough conviction to put her heels back on. It felt too good, to wriggle her toes and feel free. Even if she would pay for it later...the passion would plenty make up for inevitable blistering.

As she ran, the young woman chanced a glance behind her shoulder, peering through a curtain of flaxen hair to the figure behind her. Unlike her flitting form, the man walked slowly. Cockily, almost; like he knew for a fact that he had all the time in the world and had nary a care for how it was spent.

"You're so slow, soldier boy!"

"Tch — I'm hardly trying!"

"Oh, su-ure you are! Lazy-bones!"

The man smirked back at her. "Trust me. I'd catch you in a heartbeat if I wanted to."

Her lips, stained her favourite, brightest shade of red, met his smile with one of her own. She tried her best to capture that same coy attitude — but she probably only looked as lovesick as she felt. Still, she tried, squinting into the low setting sun.

"Are you saying you don't want to catch me?"

And in barely a minute, he made well on his bet to her. Two strong arms, straining against the fabric of his thin button-down, grasped her waist and yanked her back to him. Her shoes flew from her hands and to the pavement, right along with her dignity as she screamed. But there was nothing but adoration as she spun in his grasp and slapped at his chest. Nothing but love in her eyes, gazing up to the man who's eyes had always reflected the prettiest of pictures within their impossibly blue irises. The woman laughed breathlessly; he did the same, softer as he pulled her closer to him.

"So," he mumbled, warm breath coasting over her pinkened cheeks, "what's my prize for capturing the prettiest girl in all a' Brooklyn?"

She just smiled larger and met his lips with her own. Teeth collided awkwardly, mouths torn between laughing haplessly and tugging at their partner's, and the sensation of cold stone under her toes did not really add to the atmosphere either. But it was genuine, and the careful tug on her hips as his capable hands pulled her to him was more than enough to assure her of the sweet moment, even as she stumbled and even when his lips nearly brushed right past her own and collided with her ear.

They parted and the woman rested her forehead against his. She stared, carefully observing the emotion in the man's eyes. She had always told him that one day, she would get lost in those baby blue eyes. Drown in their oceans. And he had always laughed at that. But more than ever, as uncertainty became a lifestyle and her precious soldier boy threatened to slip away forever, she wondered if she actually could climb into his mind and remain a sea siren, swimming her years away in the endless waves that built in her beloved's eyes.

"I don't want you to go," she mumbled. Her fingers curled up his neck, searching for the familiar feeling of hair curling at the nape, but found nothing but shorn scalp, like a sheep shedding its weight in the spring. Dismally, she forced a low chuckle. "I miss your old hair already, y'know."

The man averted his gaze, though he still clutched her tight. "I don't want to leave either. But this isn't just gonna fade. And they need us at the front."

"I know, but..." It was unfair. Wrong. Cruel, for someone to take her man away when he was barely that. Their real lives had only just begun. There were a million and one firsts they had yet to check off invisible lists, a whole future yet to be created, a world that she wanted to see with his hand in hers and the promise of a lifetime to cherish.

Even after everything her soldier boy (soon-to-be, at least) had gone through, she mused, he still had a beautiful glimmer of innocence that twinkled in his eyes, when the light caught right. How quickly, would that be lost when he left her?

"I'm just so scared."

"I am too. But if I don't step up and help the cause, what sorta man does that make me?"

"And if I want to keep you in my pocket 'til the end of time, what does that make me?"

The man smiled, nudging closer to her flushed skin, so she could almost feel his words instead of hearing them. "The best girl in all the seven seas, 'course."

"What happened to just Brooklyn?"

"Well, you're too good for just Brooklyn. You're worthy of the entire world's rapture."

Tears built higher against the shaky dams she had built for herself, and they threatened to fall down her cheeks. "I...that's a big word, there, smarty."

"Mhm?"

She dipped away from his hold and desperately tried to hide her spilling tears. But the man was no fool; he caught her wrist loosely and wrapped her into his arms, letting her dampening cheeks rest against his chest. "Oh, don't cry, doll. 'Else I'll start an' that won't be a pretty sight."

"I can't help it," she mumbled pitifully, half muffled in his shirt. Even as he held her, she was counting down the days until he could not and she was alone again. "I...I miss you already."

"C'mon...I promise you, I'll be back before you even realise I'm gone."

It was a blatant lie, but she tried to use it still as her shield, forcing her tears to stop their incessant flow. "I know. I know. I just...what if something happens?"

"Nothing will."

"But—"

"—I swear to you," he interrupted, cupping her shaking head in his hands, "that I will come back to you."

"You can't just promise something like that! Things happen. Sometimes bad things happen, even to-to the best of us."

There was a lot of baggage that came with her point, allusion to great loss and grief in both their lives, and the man was no fool to that. His smile did not hang so cheerfully, any more. "I know. But I'm promising it still, all the same."

"You can't!"

"I can!"

"And how could you possibly know?"

"Because there is nothing that could keep me apart from you," he implored, a determined glint in his eyes. "We're two parts of a whole, everyone knows that. One ain't the same without the other piece. Right?"

She nodded, still sullen.

"Whatever happens, I'll always come back to you. We'll always make it back to one another. Two pieces of a whole."

Tears still threatened to fall, but she looked back up to plant a careful kiss on his puckered lips. She fluffed her hair back up and glanced down to see her tossed shoes, a tiny laugh escaping. "Gee, aren't I a mess."

"The prettiest mess I've ever seen."

After shoving the heels back on her feet and shooting him a playful glare, she hooked her arm into his and began their walk. "You're going to be the death of me, soldier, I swear — you and your daft praises."

The couple wandered aimlessly, one in a smartly ironed uniform that would see action in less than a week, and the other's blonde curls flowing like a messy cape behind her and legs staggering every so often in the heels that never fit right. They didn't pay any attention to the world around them; they never did. They were too lost in each other and the overwhelming amount of love they shared with each other that everything faded away. While it was not a happy walk, not entirely, they were together and that was enough to mollify her.

At least, she mused, the smile curving back into a frown, for the moment.

"Say, soldier, why don't we—" and she turned to watch his expression when she finished her daring thought, but the words stuttered into silence when she realised she was walking alone. The young blonde whirled around, searching for the man who was just beside her, but there was nothing but uneven cobblestone and tall, rickety buildings around to see. 

The sun had set way too fast. It was just barely six — how had it become night, so fast and so infinitely? Everything was being swallowed quickly by the spreading darkness, and the young woman felt fear course up her body like a thousand knives pricking her pale, unmarred skin. She had to find the man, she knew that, but there was nothing to see but the racing night and bloodied cobblestones, stained from something she couldn't recall, and—

—she wanted to call out, but the man's name escaped her...everything escaped her...she didn't know where she was or why she was so desperately running to find a stranger, but she needed to before the darkness swallowed them whole...but it was faster and her legs were like concrete, so heavy and so eager to meld to the ground and give in...she screamed, but nothing came out by a splattering of blood that coated her hoarse throat and made—

— in a flurry of blankets and limbs flew up a girl, a scream dying just as soon as it left her parched lips. Her eyes sprang open wide, expecting to see the worst. But as she blinked, lashes catching tears she couldn't remember crying, her fearful expression fell. Slowly she adjusted to her surroundings; to the comforter tangled around her once thrashing form, to the soft crack of light under her bedroom door. She gripped tightly to her thin night clothes, using them to ground herself back in reality.

"S'not real," she mumbled, wiping a hand down her tear-strewn face. "I-it wasn't real."

"You okay, Maddie?"

She flinched at the voice, and it took several moments to register that it wasn't another threat. Slowly, the young woman's shoulders slumped back down. "Yeah," she mumbled, cringing when the sound cracked. Her throat was dry to the bone. "I'm okay. Just a bad dream."

It was an easy half-truth for her. It certainly looked like she had gone through the most hellish of nightmares, tears still dripping like a broken tap down her chin, cheeks puffy and red and hands shaking as they clutched at her blankets. But she couldn't even say for sure it had been a bad dream, when some of it had felt so pure and so beautiful, like the most perfect of roses plucked with no thorns to prick blood down its stem.

Flashes of sepia soaked pictures tickled the back of her mind. Something from her nightmare. She couldn't grasp onto it, couldn't remember what had her so on edge...if only she could grab them...

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"...no."

"Are you sure?" The other woman's voice was still raspy from sleep, but even then, one could hear the persistent strength behind it. She smiled a little at that; her sister's voice had been made for convincing, whether it be a victim or villain. Or her little sister and her strange dreams. "It might help."

Still, she shook her head, bringing her blankets back up to her chin. "I'm okay."

"Come on, don't stew with your feelings. It's not healthy. Remember what Doctor Linx told you?"

Her eyes scrunched closed again, tight so as to avoid her sister's searching gaze. "I just don't want to talk about it right now. Maybe tomorrow."

"Promise?"

She nodded into the darkness. "Okay."

She wouldn't admit the truth. Just a half of it. She'd retell something familiar — maybe the dark shadows of some cliché villain, with red eyes and a cruel smile that threatened to smother all light of the world. She had seen such things before; it wouldn't be a stretch. 

But she couldn't tell her sister that she was crying over a movie scene that wasn't even real, that she felt wholly realised heartbreak over a fictional, faceless man she did not even know the fate of. It was silly, and foolish, two things Abigail never really understood.

"Will you be okay to fall asleep?"

She nodded and sunk back into the warmth of her bed. Her pillow sat damp under her hair, but it didn't bother her much. Not enough to warrant moving, at least. "I'll be fine."

"Are you sure? That didn't sound very confident."

Despite her state, her lips curled upwards, tickled by the stern tone. "You sound like mom."

"Tch. I do not."

"You do. It's...you sound like all those times she used to yell at me when I didn't tell her where I was going." She wanted to try and mimic the sound for herself, but didn't trust her parched throat and cracked lips to work with her, so she only continued to smile. "You sound like you're going to yell at me to do my homework, or something."

"Well...don't tempt me, missy."

"Ha, ha." But there was no mirth in the poor girl's voice, and her face was slowly crumpling back into the confused terror she had woken from. She sniffled. "I'm sorry for waking you up."

"It's okay," the woman excused. "It's good you did. You shouldn't be stuck alone with your thoughts."

But it's not your job to deal with them either, she wanted to say. "I...sorry," she mumbled instead.

"Don't worry about it. Just let me know if there's anything I can do to help."

She looked in the direction of her sister, seeing but not really seeing the darkened silhouette. She was hunched, probably barely awake and craving sleep again. To ruin that — again — would make her feel like complete crap tomorrow. But, she offered...

"Will you tell me a memory, Abby?"

The other girl shifted in her sleeping bag, sighing. "What sort of memory?"

"Anything. Just — something happy, please?"

This wasn't a new request. She had done the same tired routine, over and over again, dozens of times after a long night of nightmares, or even no sleep at all. And a part of her hated it, knowing it was selfish to make her sister recount the most meaningless of moments. All the times she spilled a glass of milk or forgot her homework or her first trip to the mall without her mom. All normal things, nothing special at all. Kids being kids. 

But she couldn't remember a single bit of it.

"Okay. There was this one time," Abigail began, shifting about in her bed, trying to get comfortable. "I don't know if I told you about when we went up North? We booked a cottage and stayed for two weeks."

"No. I-I don't know this one."

"Okay, so...dad took all his time off, mom did too, and we all just drove up like, hours and hours, and stayed in this tiny cottage on a lake...I can't remember the name of it, something with a W. Whatever it was, it was so nice and peaceful. Mom loved it — she wouldn't stop taking pictures of everything, that weekend. I'm sure she has a scrapbook fully dedicated to that trip."

Staring up at the ceiling she couldn't really see, she smiled. It wasn't really a memory, but the picture of it was nice. Dipping her toes in the water, running circles around her parents begging them to let her stay out just a little bit longer, chasing their old dog Spocky around the grass until her legs gave out on her. She could almost imagine the sweet tang of the lemonade Abby described to her on her tongue and the juxtaposition of the sun burning into her sunscreen-slathered skin, way up above. The sound of her mother butchering her favourite Whitney Houston songs as they blared on their small radio, and her father cheering her own even when Abigail declared her the absolute worst singer alive.

"We stayed up late one night," Abigail continued, oblivious to her sister's emotions. In the dark, she couldn't see the tears slowly building in her eyes, or the way her hands tugged the comforter up closer to her chin. "It was maybe the day before we had to head home, and I begged dad to let us stay up all night. And so we dragged all our stuff out, blankets and chips and Spacky too—"

"—Spocky."

"What?"

She glanced over at her sister, just barely making out her furrowed features. "You said Spacky."

"Oh." Abigail chuckled, then quieted down again. "Sorry. Spocky came too, and you and I sat together, and we waited for the sun to totally fall. And we spent hours mapping out all the stars for ourselves. You wanted me to tell you about every single constellation, you know, and I-I didn't really know them all, but I did my best. I probably screwed up a couple of placements, but..."

"It's okay," she mumbled, wiping a stray tear. "I can't remember, anyways. No harm done."

There was silence for a long while, before the familiar rustlings of plastic and blankets came. The girl continued sniffling, but waited, watching the shadows where she knew her sister lay. A quiet sigh was her only way of knowing where the young woman was, stumbling around and patting at her surroundings until she found where she was trying to go.

"What are you doing?"

"Move over," Abigail ordered sleepily. "I'm getting in."

"Oh, you don't have t—"

"—Mom used to do this for us when we were little. She'd come and lay with us 'til we fell asleep, so the monsters couldn't get us." She slid under the covers and adjusted herself. She looked uncomfortable, but Abigail didn't complain, smiling wanly at her little sister. "I'm not Mom, but..."

She wiped her eyes and laid back down. Slowly, she inched herself closer to the much warmer Abigail. She raised her hand, watching her sister do the same, and interlaced their fingers. "Thanks, Abby."

"Yeah. Of course."

"I'm sorry I'm like this."

"Don't apologise." She sounded much sleepier again, even after only a couple seconds. "Just...don't ever feel bad. And...mm...I'll always be here, for whatever you need. And...to help...remember what you can't."

And young Mae squeezed her hand tight, knowing that her sister meant it with all her heart. "Thanks. I love you."

Abigail didn't reply, already drifting off again, but she felt the smallest grip back. And that was enough.

CEYX & ALCYONE — one of the few kind, mutual loves told by Ovid in Metamorphoses. Alcyone was the daughter of King Aeolus (later Thessaly), described as lovely and beautiful. Ceyx, future king of Trachis, was also as such. The two fell in love and were married, living happily together for several years.

They became well-known for their strong adoration had for one another. Ceyx and Alcyone famously thought so highly about their respective partner, that they called themselves Zeus and Hera. While a playful act, the king of the gods considered this sacrilegious and grew enraged. He plot vengeance against the pair, and bode his time until Ceyx, seeking the Oracle in Ionia, was at sea. He threw a thunderbolt at Ceyx' ship and killed him.

Alcyone waited patiently for her husband, unaware of his fate. She prayed to the gods for his safe return, especially to Hera, hoping her own love for her husband would earn her lover back. Hera was so shaken by the woman's faithful hope and the tragic fate of Ceyx, that she asked Hypnos (who then asked his son Morpheus) to tell Alcyone the news. Morpheus came to the woman in a dream, disguised as her lost husband, and informed her of his fate. Alcyone then threw herself into the sea, stricken by grief and determined to reunite herself with her love.

In awe of the couple's undying love and in shame for his rash actions, Zeus transformed them into Halcyon birds, also known as kingfishers.

If you read this book before (which like...sorry for making you read that omg), you'll only probably recognise the first half of this prologue. The rest is new territory, aside from a couple vague plot points, so while you're totally allowed to speculate and come to your own guesses as to where this is going, please know it probably won't be going there!

That being said, feel free to make your guesses and comments on what you think is going to happen. I'd love to hear it! 

Thank you for reading, let me know what you thought. 

REWRITTEN: 3/27/21.