His words were tender, yet a jarring reminder that while we had been ignorant of his existence, he had been aware of us all along. “Mother grieves for you; she thinks you’re dead. You must have seen her here. Why didn’t you speak to her?” I could not suppress the accusation in my tone for the misery he might have spared her.

“I could not.”

Was it regret that flashed across his face? Yearning, sorrow, or anger? I thought of how she had taken the elixir from him—the one he had earned, the one he had forsaken for her.

“Do you blame her? Me, for endangering her life?” A tentative question that I both longed and dreaded to learn the answer to.

He released a drawn breath. “I will admit, I was furious at first. When I saw her flying to the skies, I wondered, had it been her scheme all along to become immortal? A goddess? Only later did I realize my own mistakes: letting my fears silence hers, ignoring the doctors who said what I did not want to hear, which terrified me more than any battle I had fought. That’s what comes of being revered—you start to believe you’re infallible, that you can bend fate to your will. But there are some things in the world no power can alter.”

He fell silent before adding, “I would have given the elixir to your mother had she asked it of me. I should have done so before.”

“Why did you let everyone believe you had died?” I probed.

“In my last battle, I was struck down and lost consciousness. When I recovered, I found myself abandoned in a strange land. It took months before I made my way back, a shock to find news of my death abounded. However, there was also freedom in this, a chance to live for myself again without being commanded or begged to go where danger lurked.” His gaze dropped to the ground. “I also hoped your mother might hear of my death. For even if she no longer loved me, she might come to pay her respects—out of obligation, if nothing else, so I might see her again.”

A shadow fell over his face. “I waited. Eagerly at first, my mind turning over all we would say. I need not have bothered. The years crept up on me before I knew it. My hope grew tarnished with dread, then shame—that she would see me this way while she remained untouched by age. And when I finally saw her, it was too late.” The tips of his fingers brushed his cheek, tracing the lines on them.

A tightness gripped my chest. Despite their parting, my parents loved each other still. “Don’t blame her, Father. She could not come before.”

“Why not?” He hurled the question as though it had haunted him all this time.