Page 156

I looked at the flaming being, something deep inside of me resonating with memory.

She was glorious. She was tragic. Suspended between the realms of life and death, of fire and earth. A spectral wraith of flames trapped in a purgatory of darkness.

Her beauty burned so bright, it was divine. A corruption of what she should have been.

“Zorya?” I whispered. “Is it you?”

Beside me, Draven inhaled sharply.

The woman gave a keening wail that sent stones falling from high above.

The answer was clear enough to me.

I lifted the grail higher. “The grail? Is this yours?”

Long ago, the stories went, the three objects had been created by the gods. The sword, Draven had once told me, had been made by Perun. His sisters created the other two objects. Marzanna made the grail. Zorya, the spear.

But what if the stories had gotten it wrong?

Very, very wrong.

The flaming woman who had been goddess of the dawn looked down at me with her blazing eyes, terrible in the pain they held.

“Do you know me?” I demanded. “Do you know who I am?”

“Morgan,” Draven whispered from beside me. “What are you doing?”

I ignored him.

I already knew one part of the story that had been badly misshapen.

Perun was not Marzanna’s brother. He was her father.

But the name which he went by in this world of fae and mortals was not Perun, but Gorlois le Fay.

I shook the grail. “Did you create this? Did you create any of the objects? The sword by my side, this sickle? The spear?”

My questions lingered in the charged air. I stood waiting, shaking with anticipation, gazing up at the burning deity.

Zorya shook her head mournfully.

“Was it made from you?” I pressed her. “Against your will? Is that why you’re here? Like this?”

The flaming woman pulsed with energy as another scream ripped out, filling the space around us with a deafening sound. Draven gripped my arm, and we braced ourselves as the bridge beneath us danced and trembled with the power of it.

When the shaking had stopped, I looked back at the corrupted goddess, undeterred.

“Something was stolen from you. Taken to make this... this horrible thing. You were trapped here. You’ve been here, like this, ever since.”

Another blaze of flames as the woman lowered her head, nodding her assent.

“Can we destroy it?” I cried. “Here? Now? Together? Help me! Let me set you free.”

I felt Draven stiffen, but I didn’t have time to worry about what he must be thinking.

“I will never let my father have it. The grail or the sword. Never again,” I swore to the woman. “Tell me what I need to do.”

She moved and sparks flew around her. Slowly, she lowered her head to my level and peered into my eyes.