The deathly silence that enveloped Skye tugged at her throat. Paul remained unmoving, staring at her, the shocked and pained expression burning her soul. She pulled on her bottom lip.

"She was someone I used to know a very long time ago," Paul finally said. Skye lifted her eyes to meet his.

"Beloved," Skye whispered.

"Yes, my beloved," Paul confirmed sadly. Skye's mind flicked to the box tucked away in her rucksack on her hotel room bed.

"I have a confession, Skye."

"Oh?"

"You look very much like her."

"I do?"

"Yes."

Paul leaned in closer and mesmerized by his scrutiny of her, Skye allowed him to cup her face.
"Your eyes are the same as a moss-covered forest, your hair as deep as the depth of a crow's feathers, and your skin- "he paused, his thumbs gently stroking her cheeks. "Your skin like a newborn pearl reaped from the sea and your lips the bearer of whispered longings."

Skye's eyes obediently fluttered closed when his lips touched hers. The world swirled, and everything disappeared. His lips moved with a hesitant intensity that had her craving undeniably for more. Her hands moved on their own accord to slip around his neck.

Then, with a deliberate and distinct cough, the world popped back into reality, and Skye jumped up from her chair. Her eyes briefly met those of a bemused Johnathan's before she fled the dining room. She had thought for a mad second Paul would follow, but he remained seated.

*

After waiting for over half an hour, Skye took a shower, the realization that no one was coming prompted her into action. Her stomach rolled, and she did not know whether it was from relief or the disappointment that neither Paul nor Johnathan had followed her back to her room.

And what would she have done if Paul had followed her? Continue what they had adamantly started downstairs?

She scrubbed viciously with soap the wantonness her skin burned with. She was undoubtedly attracted to Paul Loxias, and he had ignited a long-forgotten need within her. She has purposefully distanced herself from romantic involvement for years, protecting her once-broken heart.

Why had she allowed him to kiss her? Was it because he indeed looked like a god? Has her infatuation with the mythological god Apollo allowed her to act the fool? Or was it something else?

Her thoughts were still muddled and running rampant several hours later when sleep still evaded her. It was early in the morning when Skye gave up and rolled out of bed. She turned on the bedside lamp before carefully lifting out the box from her rucksack.

She climbed back onto the bed and sat cross-legged in the center with the box on her lap. Her fingers traced the words engraved on the lid.

"To Areti, my beloved," she whispered. Was this just a coincidence?

She checked the sides and underneath for any clue on how to open the box. The silver latches were firmly secured and did not budge, no matter what she tried. Frustrated, Skye shoved the box away, and it flipped onto its side.

The lamp light exposed a faint glimmer of an inscription on the bottom of the box. Skye dived forward, pulling the box back. She held it at an angle underneath the light.

Μπαλάντα του Απόλλωνα

"Ballad of Apollo," Skye read, "what the hell is that supposed to mean?" She turned the box upright and studied the latches again. Skye squealed, and her eyes widened with excitement. On each latch, right in the center, was a little dented sun, and in each sun was a Greek letter, except for one. Skye quickly counted the latches, on the long sides, there were five each, and on the short sides, two, which equaled fourteen.

"Okay, okay, breathe, Skye, just breathe."

The Greek letters were random, but the thirteen letters made up the inscription. Skye took a deep breath before gently pressing the first letter. The silent room almost swallowed the faint click that vibrated from the box.

Patiently and carefully, she spelled out the inscription, her heart jolting every time a click echoed and bounced back at her. She paused over the letter-less sun and closed her eyes for a moment before pressing it.

She opened her eyes as something inside the box whirred and snapped before the latches, one for one, released their hold on the box until, finally, the lid popped off and fell onto the bed.

Skye tipped the box towards her, and a singular rolled leather parchment slid down, tucking itself against the side of the box.

*

For a second night, Paul stood hidden in the dark shadows of the trees, staring up at Skye's hotel room. He touched his lips, still tingling from their kiss. The scent of her skin still lingered in every breath he inhaled. His urge after her sudden departure not to run after her had been an immense battle.

But the awkward silence from Johnathan had forced an apologetic mumble and hastened his departure from the hotel.

There was no doubt Skye's outer likeness to Areti had bewitched him for a moment and had conspired to allow him to kiss her, thrusting him back into the past.

He closed his eyes. But it had not been Areti he was kissing. As much as he had loved Areti and missed her, Skye had lighted a glimmer of hope in an eternal darkness that had surrounded his heart for centuries.

Could he love again?

*

Notes:

*ἀγαπητός (agapētos): This word directly translates to "beloved" or "dearly loved."

*Μπαλάντα του Απόλλωνα: Balánta tou Apóllona - Ballad of Apollo