Page 55 of Beasts of Shadows #1

We leave through the side entrance of the arena. The wind outside cuts harder than before, knifing across my cheeks as we cross the back lot toward the tree line.

“You could’ve waited until after the game,” I mutter, breath fogging.

“No. I couldn’t.”

We duck into the woods just beyond the property line, where a circle of frost-kissed stones forms a loose perimeter. A whisper ward. Old magic.

Matoaka stops inside it. Folds her arms.

“The first blow has already landed—and you’re wasting time with hockey games and petty drama?”

“What?”

Matoaka doesn’t step closer, but her voice drops low. Steady. Final. “That storm—the one that killed your mom? It wasn’t weather, Nari. Didn’t your lover tell you this?”

My breath catches. The cold around us suddenly feels more personal.

“Lover?” I manage, because that’s the easier thing to focus on. “I don’t…”

“Nikolai Matholwch? He saw you over break, didn’t he?”

I fumble through me recollections of Nikolai’s visit. It had been brief. He held me until I felt better. Then he left. Didn’t come back to the funeral. Didn’t do anything but comfort me.

Certainly didn’t pass on a message about my mother.

Although there was something. That hitch…the way I knew he was hiding something. I couldn’t complain about it at the time, but now…

“What, exactly, was he supposed to tell me?”

“It was Calea. The storm.”

I laugh. Not because it’s funny. Because it’s absurd. Because shades are not allowed in California. Everyone knows that.

“Oh, come on,” I scoff. “Of all the things you could’ve said—.”

But she doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t blink. Doesn’t even try to soften the blow. I wish she would. I wish this was some bad joke told out of turn.

So I laugh again, brittle and sharp, the sound bouncing off the trees like glass cracking underfoot.

“She died in a car accident,” I say, like maybe Matoaka missed the news. “It was late. There was a storm. She swerved, clipped the guardrail, went off the road. No gods. No curses. Just snow and shitty luck.”

Silence.

“I read the report. I saw the photos. The coroner ruled it clean. No tampering, no spell damage, no divine residue. That’s the law? No god interference in California. It’s a neutral state.”

Matoaka doesn’t interrupt. She just watches me unravel.

My voice spirals up. Too fast. Too loud. Like I’m trying to plug a dam with my bare hands. Because damn it—it made sense.

Then she says, quiet and calm, “Neutral doesn’t mean untouched.”

I shake my head hard. “That’s not possible.”

“Calea doesn’t care about laws. Or treaties. Or mortal definitions of neutrality,” Matoaka replies. “She cares about control. Symbols. Pain. She’s the mother goddess , Nari. She can do whatever she wants—and no one questions her.”

Her voice drops. “Your mother wasn’t an accident. She was a message.”

My breath hitches. I don’t know if it’s grief or rage—or both—boiling up in my chest.

“No.” My voice slices out of me like a blade. “Don’t you dare turn her into some footnote in a prophecy. She wasn’t part of this.”

“I didn’t say she was,” Matoaka says gently. “But you are. And Calea knew the only way to hurt you— really hurt you—was through someone who loved you.”

“I wasn’t even there.” I clench my fists. “I should’ve been. I should’ve gone home sooner. I should’ve—.”

My voice cracks.

My knees nearly do too.

But I don’t fall.

I just stand there, fists trembling, breath fogging sharp and fast, heart wide open and screaming.

“She didn’t even know I made it through my first semester,” I say. “Didn’t know about any of it.”

Matoaka nods calmly. Understanding. More understanding than I can muster, this moment. It’s infuriating. Especially when she continues with, “Your mother wasn’t supposed to die this young.”

“What does that mean?”

“She wasn’t fated for it. Not in either of the early threads,” she explains. “She should have lived to see you graduate. To see you rise.”

“No.” This time the word falls soft, like a prayer I’ve already stopped believing in.

“There are only two futures left now,” Matoaka continues. “Two timelines thick enough to hold. Everything else is unraveling. Fading. Dying.”

“What futures?” I ask.

“One ends in collapse,” she says. “A false peace. The return of a tyrant. The other… ends with you.”

“Me?” I ask, hollow. “Or…a secret god?”

Nikolai said that we would replace Calea when she fell. That we could rule.

“You,” she says firmly. “And whoever you choose to stand with. You’re one of the few who can still change the outcome. Tsonokwa, hasn’t anyone told you about this?”

I fold my arms tight across my chest, like I’m trying to hold myself together. She’s talking to me like I’m a child.

“And the other path?” I ask. “The one that isn’t mine?”

She exhales slowly. “It belongs to two demigods, like myself.”

Demigods. The prophecy about Thantos said one would be born—that it would break the first seal. I hadn’t given it much thought, because Nikolai being the first blood god seemed like much bigger news.

“How many demigods are there? If you’re one—.”

“I’m not one of them. They were the first of us. Only their parents know who they are, and they’ve kept it hidden. Ancient deities, I’d imagine.”

I frown.

Matoaka shakes her head. “Calea’s onto it. I’m not sure how she figured it out, we’ve been so careful. But she knows her time is at risk, and she’s looking. If they win, the Shadow Realm falls. And when we fall—your world won’t be far behind.”

I want to scream. Gods, can’t I just deal with one problem at a time ?

Still, something cold sets into my heart. Certainty. Decision.

Calea started this.

And I’m going to be the one to end it.

#

The air has that brittle stillness that only comes after snowfall—like the world’s been scrubbed clean, even though I haven’t.

Matoaka’s words echo in my head on a loop.

Your mother wasn’t supposed to die. Calea made it a message.

I should march straight to Nikolai’s quarters. Bang on the door. Demand to know what he knew and when. Demand to know why he held me while I cried and said nothing .

But I don’t.

Because I don’t trust myself not to beat the immortal life out of him the second I see his face.

Or worse—let him patch me back together again.

So I go looking for someone else.

Someone who’s already seen me at my worst.

Someone who used to be my truth.

#

It’s stupid, but I know where he’ll be.

Not in the library. Not at Frostfang Hall, pursuing vices with the rest of the faculty.

Ravi always liked quiet places with plants. Said they reminded him of everything he couldn’t control. Which, for a control freak, was weirdly poetic.

I slip through the side door of the greenhouse, the warm, humid air fogging my glasses instantly.

He’s at the back. Alone. Reading. Of course.

He doesn’t look up when I enter, just says, “You missed the final period of the game. Your cousin took a puck to the knee.”

“I don’t care.”

His eyes flick up, dark and steady. “That bad?”

I shut the door behind me harder than necessary. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“About Cody’s injury?” he deadpans.

“About Calea. About my mother .”

That gets his full attention.

Ravi sets the book down slowly. “I didn’t think it was my place.”

“Bullshit.”

He doesn’t flinch. “Fine. I didn’t want to hurt myself.”

That stops me.

Ravi rises, pushing his sleeves up, revealing forearms smudged with ink and shadow.

“You think I didn’t want to tell you? I came back from the dead, Nari.

I remember everything —what I was, what I lost, what I’m tied to now.

And still, the hardest thing I’ve done since returning was stand beside you on the cliffs and lie by omission. ”

“So why didn’t you come clean?”

“Because Nikolai showed up, and my emotions got the better of me, and I just… I couldn’t devastate you like that, Nari. You’d just learned your mother was gone. The truth about Calea would’ve pushed you over the edge. You weren’t ready.”

My hands fly up, sharp and fast. “You don’t get to decide if I’m ready .” My voice cracks at the edges. “ Fuck , Ravi!”

Somewhere near the heating pipes, a sprinkler hisses like even the plants think I’m being too loud.

Ravi doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move. Just watches me—jaw tight, brow drawn, like he’s waiting for permission to feel whatever he’s trying to shove back down.

“I let you in. We agreed to being together. I thought I could trust you.”

But something in his expression shifts.

“Nari, surely you’ve realized by now that you and I have an expiration date.”

I shake my head, trying to hold myself together, but it’s like trying to hold water in a net.

“What does that mean?”

“You’re not happy,” Ravi says quietly. “Not with me. I’m not the boy you fell in love with. And you’re not the girl who died trying to save me.”

His words don’t sting—not the way I expect. Instead, they settle like dust across a room that’s already been emptied.

“We’ve both been holding on to something that ended long before you let Nikolai put a mark on your flesh.”

I say nothing.

“Don’t drag him into this. This is about what you—.”

“You went to him first , Nari!” Ravi kicks a pot over, the dirt spilling onto the red clay floor.

“The night of the tantalus pomegranate. I knew you would, but… fuck , it stung. You bound yourself to him without even asking me. You didn’t even think to tell me about it until we were together.

How long do you think this game between you two will last before you give in to what fate wants? To what Roz wants?”

Horrifyingly, the emotion that rises first isn’t sorrow or guilt—it’s relief. Like some tightly wound wire inside me has finally snapped free.

I sink into the nearest armchair, eyes locked on the fire as it crackles and sways.

“Fate doesn’t get to control me.”

“Maybe not, seeing as how everything is on the line. But you’ve already made your choice. And…I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

“ No, ” I say again, standing. My voice is sharper now, shoulders tight as I pace the length of the room. The idea of Nikolai and I sparks more panic than the quiet death of whatever Ravi and I were. Of the truth behind my mother’s death.

“He’s not the reckless boy I once cornered and threatened in the market. Nikolai’s changed. There are people who would bleed to stand where you stand. Taisse. Hell, he has a whole entourage of women after him.”

“They’re welcome to him,” I snap, crossing my arms tightly across my chest, hating the heat that flares up my neck. The jealousy. The fear. The truth.

“You already gave him what I was still hoping you’d give me. And I think you knew that.”

I turn back to the door because I can’t stand the look in his eyes. Because I don’t know how to answer that. Because I never meant for any of this.

And yet here we are.

The vines overhead creak in the wind. Somewhere near the base of the fennel trees, something clicks—a thermostat resetting. I stare at him and see the boy I used to know, the man he’s pretending to be, and the god he might become again if I don’t look away fast enough.

“I keep losing people,” I say finally. “And every time I think I can catch my breath, something else gets torn away. My mom. My normal life. My future. You. And now this? Now you?”

I press the heel of my hand to my forehead.

“You can become more with Nikolai than you ever did with me.” Ravi’s voice is bitter—like it’s something he’s known for a while but never had the nerve to say out loud. “Bran only gets Bea killed. Nikolai is…he’s something new. And so are you.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Surely you’ve noticed the changes in yourself.”

I lower my hand from my face.

“Changes like what?” I demand.

Ravi doesn’t answer right away. His gaze drifts to the vines curling along the glass wall, the ones that weren’t green when I came in. They weren’t blooming.

But now? Tiny buds dot the branches. Pale and trembling. New.

“You come into places like this,” he says finally, “and things start growing.”

I glance down. Moss is creeping out from beneath the broken pot he kicked. The soil damp, sweet. Alive.

“And that’s just the surface,” he adds. “You’re softer in ways that scare you. Sharper in ways that scare everyone else.”

I want to tell him he’s wrong. Still, the enchanted flower from the solstice flitters into my head. He’d been annoyed with me that night, and I assumed the flower was an apology. But now…

“You’re not just surviving anymore, Nari,” Ravi says, voice almost reverent. “You’re becoming.”

I don’t look at him.

I walk toward the door, past the re-sprouting pot, past the fennel that smells faintly of rain and something sweeter underneath.

I rest my hand on the frame.

Outside, frost clings to the glass. But the air inside is warm. Thriving.

Spring doesn’t ask permission to return.

“The only thing that can end winter is spring, Mutt. This is the repercussion of your marriage to Nikolai. to a god-maker.”