Page 196 of As Above, So Below

I blink slowly, turning my gaze to the hand upon me.

“Ves,” Ylara says softly, a small smile on her face. “Vaelyn would like to see you in the study.”

Giving her a weak smile, I nod.

It must be because he wants to give me another update about the hells.

I should be overjoyed with the fact Ylara has been released from her imprisonment. I should be celebrating my victory over Netharis.

But I want nothing more than to be left alone for the rest of my existence—to wither, to mourn, to process.

Taking my hand, Ylara ferries us outside Netharis’ study.

It doesn’t matter Netharis no longer exists, it will forever behisstudy.

Ylara squeezes my arm gently in a reassuring gesture before vanishing in a swirl of darkness.

The guards standing either side of the doors swing them open, and for a moment, my mind is brought back to a different place, a different time, a different realm.

One where Ryc stands beside me, my arm in his, and we’re dressed in the same deep colors as the universe. Tearing my gaze upward, I blink against the tears that threaten to fall. I’m surprised I have any tears left.

Entering the room, Vaelyn rises from the seat at Netharis’ desk.

At the same time, a tall woman rises from the seat on my left.

No, not woman.

Nyraphim.

And not simply any nyraphim—

Draped in white and gold, she dons six sets of wings with brilliant white feathers. They emerge from her back, folded tightly againsther. She would be terrifying to behold if she weren’t so beautiful.

“Vestaris.” She smiles.

Her smile is warm as if we’re long standing friends.

I’ve never seen this goddess in my life.

My brow creases as our eyes meet and the gaping, dark hole in my chest is ripped wide.

Her golden amber eyes are the same shade as Ryc’s.

My hands fly to my heart, an attempt to hold myself together.

Gods, looking at her hurts unlike anything I’ve ever known.

So much pain.

That’s all I ever feel anymore.

Swallowing hard, I find my voice.

“Gaia.” I bow my head in respect, lowering my gaze to the floor.

Her laughter resonates within me, reminding me of a flowing river, powerful and beautiful.

“Forgive me,” she laughs, “I’m not used to being greeted with respect by those associated with death.”