Page 198 of As Above, So Below

Without my innate, the glamour I’d placed on my wings remains there. Without my innate, I’ll never see my wings again. A sharp pang of mourning rips through my core.

“I have a proposition,” Gaia says, her eyes volleying betweenme and Vaelyn. “One I’d like to offer without a contract, without strings.”

Despite her warning, I can’t stop the sinking notion in my stomach. Too many centuries of propositions with contracts and strings has left scars upon me.

“There is a very demanding demi-god in Ollora who is quite insistent Vestaris Moonshadow be returned to the living realm.” Her lips curl with a playful smile.

The stillness in my chest doesn’t reflect the sudden burst of hope that fills it.

“Is that even possible?” Vaelyn asks, his brows raising as he leans forward in his seat.

“Of course it is,” Gaia chirps, turning her attention to Vaelyn. “I cannot deny her impact upon the living realm. You may not know her feats during her time there, but I do.”

Vaelyn’s eyes dart to mine and I return his stare with a confused glance. I honestly don’t know what feats she’s talking about.

“I need you to understand, should you die, it will be a final death. You will be mortal. Truly, mortal. With your contract broken, you will not return to the hells as you currently are, Vestaris,” Gaia says, and my head swivels to her. “Is returning to the living realm what you want?”

I would have shouted the answer before she finished her sentence had I not clamped my jaw shut to keep from doing exactly that.

I hold no reservations about my answer.

I want to see Ryc, Eve, Lilith, perhaps even Cyran…

I want to live with them.

Love them.

Experience life with them.

The voice in my mind screams the answer, but my voice is a breathy whisper. “Yes.”

EPILOGUE

Thousands of milesnorthwest of Ollora, in the valley of a mountain range long forgotten and left wild, Celesta approaches a sapling. As her bare feet tread across the grass, moonflowers and ivy blossom unfurl in her wake. Spreading outward, they coat the ground, choking and smothering the grass beneath.

The sapling’s tiny leaves shimmer gold in the sunlight, swaying gently in the breeze. With a slender hand, she caresses a branch with an encouraging touch. Her touch causes the leaves to wilt, becoming a cluster of crimson blossoms.

Cerulean eyes marvel at the tree before her, a smile curling her lips. It will continue to grow and thrive under her care. Dragging a nail across her collarbone, gleaming silver blood pours into her cupped hand.

Reaching, she pours it over the soil at the base of the tree as she falls to her knees, reciting a prayer in a language she hasn’t been able to use for centuries. The blossoms begin to glow with a pulsing red light, and petals stretch farther open, yawning themselves awake.

Change is coming.

Change long past due.

These gods have grown lazy, expectant, and forgetful. They behave like children, destroying what was left in their care. She’s watched for hundreds of years how they serve themselves, complicit in Netharis’ attempt to grant himself the power of the elders.

All because they fear the void.

Netharis is the first of the gods to fall. Others will follow. And in due time, the old gods will awake, and the realms will feel their wrath.