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We landed in what seemed to be an ancient airport. This was a time capsule of how things had used to be, a taste of the Earth before the gods and demons, before magic and monsters.

“This way,” I told my sisters, Angel strutting by my side.

We walked down the long airport corridor.

A flash from the past hit me, and I saw Sierra walking down this very same corridor. She was wearing the weapons of heaven and hell, marching into battle. Her armor was silver, just like her wings. In her hand, she held a burning sword. Blue flames licked the blade.

Magic fire rained down from above. Sierra jumped aside to avoid the blast.

I sidestepped several holes in the otherwise-smooth ground. Time was a funny thing, though. The holes weren’t where they were supposed to be, not where the magic had impacted the ground in Sierra’s time. Who knew what had happened in the centuries since then.

Yeah, memories were weird, especially visions from the past. I’d once spoken to Nero about the memories that kept coming to me.

“I’d guess someone buried them there,” he had told me. “It’s no coincidence that they are coming out now. I believe they were triggered by the Nectar and maybe by the Venom, by your growing abilities, your growing magic. If I’m right, as your power grows, more memories will surface.”

And he’d turned out to be right. I’d certainly had more memories since gaining Ghost’s Whisper, the power of telepathy.

“In my dream,” I’d told Nero. “Sierra spoke of inheriting someone else’s destiny, and the gateway only opens to someone who embodies light and darkness. Sierra wasn’t the first keeper of the weapons of heaven and hell. I wonder how many keepers there have been? And where they all are now?”

“I believe I’m looking at one right now,” he’d told me.

“I don’t know, Nero. Sierra was so…powerful. I’m just some watered-down version. You probably have a better chance of opening that gateway than I do.”

“I have darkness and light in me, Leda, but they’re not in balance. They’re in conflict.”

“And that makes a difference?”

“More than how much magic you have, I believe. You survived Venom mixed with Nectar. If that isn’t proof of your light-dark balance, then I don’t know what is.”

Yeah, I was balanced—or at least my magic was. That’s what I got for being the offspring of a god and a demon.

Or maybe that’s why I was unbalanced, torn between two worlds, destined never to fit in either.

I reached out and traced my finger along the edge of the very large hole in the wall in front of me. Something had blown that hole in the wall. I wondered what spell had done it.

I led the way through the hole, up the many, many stairs that ended in another hole, this time in the ceiling. I climbed out, then reached down to help Gin and Tessa up. Angel crouched down, wiggled her butt a few times, then leapt through the hole. She landed soundlessly beside me.

“Good kitty.” I scratched her under her chin, then rose from my knees.

We were standing on what had once served as an airport runway. The asphalt surface had cracked and fractured since those days. There were holes larger than my foot in it.

We walked a few minutes, then the broken runway ended abruptly with the skeletal corpse of a plane. We climbed through the plane, its shell eaten away by the winds of time.

Nero’s words and mine hummed in my ears.

“Do you remember the visions I had last year in the Lost City?” I’d asked him.

“Visions of the past,” he’d said. “Your proximity to the weapons of heaven and hell triggered them.”

“I saw memories stored in those immortal artifacts, just like the gods’ memories stored inside their immortal artifacts. I think it takes a very strong emotion to imprint a memory on an immortal artifact. The glasses exposed the gods’ memories stored in those artifacts. But I didn’t have the glasses last year when I saw those memories in the Lost City. And why am I seeing this woman’s memories now when the rest of you are not?”

That was a good question. Why was I seeing Sierra’s memories? What was so special about her? Were we somehow linked through time because she had once worn the weapons of heaven and hell, just as I had?

My sisters and I jumped out of the corpse of the plane. We followed the old train line. Angel led the way, balancing effortlessly atop the slim profile of the broken tracks.

It was this way. I knew it. I could feel it. The visions were drawing me in closer. Something important lay at the end of the line.

The visions were coming from there. But what were the visions? Nero’s father Damiel had once said that he’d unlocked these memories in my mind, but Damiel was famous for never telling the whole story.