Page 1 of Death of the Glass Angel (Apotheosis #1)

Janus

The world split in half the day the Innocent died. It began in flame.

Fire was a happy memory. Crackling hearths, flickering torches in the night, warmth on a cold day. Janus closed her eyes, remembering every fire she’d seen, remembering their heat.

The door slammed, snapping her from her reverie. Her little brother trudged into the room, twisting out of his cloak. Eros’ mop of brown curls hung over his brilliant pink eyes, shadowing the freckles covering his cheeks. He grinned, noticing her hands cupped on her lap.

“Are you practicing?” He ran over, giddily.

“I told you I’d show you my spell, didn’t I?” Janus grinned, shifting to sit cross-legged on her bed.

Pushing aside a pile of messy books, Eros sat on his bed and watched her expectantly. A gentle breeze blew through the crack in the window, fluttering the curtains.

Eros had his own room, but he never used it. Janus wanted to kick him out, regain her privacy. She was twelve now; she deserved it. But sleeping alone frightened Eros. And what was her purpose as his older sister if not to protect him?

Those soft eyes of his could melt any heart, and Janus had yet to build up a resistance. He’d stay with her a little longer.

“Do you think I’m an evoker, too?” Eros questioned.

Janus rubbed her hands together, recalling her lessons. “Maybe. You’ll have cefran magic, won’t you? Do you need evoking, too?”

“Why not have both?” Eros placed a thoughtful hand on his chin. “Supposedly, some half-bloods can wield both magics.” He snickered. “A cefra can’t create dates to hide in your pockets.”

Janus shuddered. She hated dates. “Conjuring food is tough. Or so Gemellus says.”

“Gemellus says everything is hard.”

“Because it is,” Janus articulated.

“Hmph.” Eros wrinkled his brow. “Gemellus said you were his best student.”

“He did?” Janus’s head whipped up, and she lost concentration.

Eros giggled. “He said not to tell you, but I thought it would make you happy.”

The kid’s smile was infectious. Every time Janus mustered the courage to see him as an annoying little sibling, he said something sweet like that. Grinning, she returned to her efforts.

“So. . .” Eros tilted his head. “Are you going to cast the spell or not?”

“Give me a moment. This takes effort.”

Receding into her mind, Janus recalled Gemellus’s lesson: focus on your memories, on the element you want. Extract the fire crackling in the hearth and bring it into the living world.

Eros grew bored quickly. “I saw a Dragosi stepper today.”

“Did you?” Janus mumbled, trying to isolate the memory of fire.

“It was huge. Probably could’ve crushed you with one hoof.” Eros flopped back onto the bed. “Think we could convince Evander to let us ride one?”

“Absolutely not.” Janus’ eyes flew open, and flame whooshed to life in her palm.

Eros bolted upright, staring at the crackling fire. Leaping to his feet, he ran to her side, eager to get a better look.

Pain burned through Janus’s palm as the flames licked at her skin. Panicking, she shook her hand as she would after touching a hot stove, hoping to throw the fire away.

The pain in her hand ceased and instead erupted at her feet. Gasping, she fled backward, tripping on her bedpost and landing on the floor.

“Janus?” Eros asked, eyes wide with alarm.

A column of flame raced from the rug up her bedpost, catching the sheets alight. Janus should have screamed, should have called for help, but she gaped in frozen horror.

She choked on smoke that had not been there a moment before. The fire spread within a heartbeat, snaking across the floor onto the other bed. Janus felt like she was trapped in a nightmare; the smoke shouldn’t be so thick, the flames shouldn’t spread so fast.

Was it because of her spell? Had she messed something up?

Unfrozen, Janus bolted to her feet and grabbed Eros, hauling him toward the door. Holding up a hand, she shielded her mouth and eyes from the conflagration.

The door was only a few paces away, but it felt like miles spanned between them. Crashing against it, Janus felt for the knob. Searing heat met her fingers, and she yanked her hand away, screaming. Grimacing, she grabbed it again, ignoring the pain as she twisted it open.

But it was caught, locked from the outside.

“What are you doing?” Eros shrieked, “Open it.”

“I’m trying!” Janus insisted, shaking the handle again without avail.

Stuck. Releasing the handle, Janus cradled her burnt hand. This must be a nightmare. Her bed charred beneath an oppressive flame, and the door was locked, though it should not have been. The curtains’ orange glow intensified as the blaze engulfed them.

Only a narrow path between the beds remained untouched- it led to the window.

Dashing forward, Janus avoided the burning curtains as she pushed her hands between the crack in the window and shoved the glass panes apart. Wind tore into the room, strengthening the fire.

Stone floors and walls fueled their demise—a scene from a nightmare.

“Eros!” Janus beckoned for her brother, who stood choking amongst the unnatural fire. He hobbled forward with uncertain, frightened steps, shrieking as flame singed his hair.

Why had nobody heard them? Why had nobody come?

The once-safe path began to narrow. Unbearable heat bloomed on her shoulder as the fire consuming the curtains spread to her nightgown.

Janus couldn’t stay here. She needed to go. Gasping in pain, Janus looked back at Eros. “Hurry! This way!”

Throwing herself over the window edge, Janus eyed the dizzying fall to the courtyard below before sliding down, grabbing onto the loose bricks with one hand as the other attempted to rip the burning robe off.

She lost balance as the robe came loose. Rough stone tore her fingers as she slid down the wall, blood trailing in her wake. Finding purchase on an outcropping, she stopped her fall.

Why was there no one below them? Two guards were supposed to patrol the courtyard, yet it was empty.

“Help!” Janus screamed, voice echoing in the dark.

A pained cry came from the room above, and Janus stared at the window a few feet above her, the flaming curtains whipping in the wind. That had been Eros.

Scrambling on the walls, Janus tried to climb back up. Eros should have only been a step behind her. Had he been too scared to run for the window?

A pause followed the cry, before panicked screaming ensued. Those were not screams of fear—they were the sounds of excruciating pain.

Her pain vanished. Hauling herself up, Janus climbed back to the window, gashes racking through her fingers.

Her hand caught on the edge of the windowsill, and she hauled herself up, calling for her brother as she thrust her hand into the room, hoping to grab his.

A mighty gale blew against her back, as though the gods intended to throw her off. The window slammed shut, catching her fingers between them.

Pain raged through Janus’ hand, and she lost her grip. Futilely, she attempted to grasp the wall again, only to realize she was falling. The world flew by in slow motion before she hit the ground, a sickening crunch sounding in her leg.

A bone must have broken, but she did not feel it. She lay there in the frigid night, staring up at a window consumed by fire as she listened to the screams of her dying brother.

Five more seconds, she could hear him. Five seconds that felt like a lifetime.

And then the screams fell silent, and all Janus could hear was the sound of crackling flame.

Someone ran up to her, the pounding of their footfalls against the ground a distant echo. Someone grabbed her shoulders and cried for help. But they were too late.

* * *

“Janus?” A soft voice murmured. They waited a moment before trying again. “Janus?”

Blinking rapidly, Janus looked up at her elder brother. Black, unflattering robes swallowed him, blurring him into the sea of darkness around them. Evander’s eyes were puffy and red. He nudged her, beckoning her to look up.

A plump old man in the glittering silver of the clergy stood elevated on the docks, conducting the sermon.

Janus had never attended a funeral before. Perhaps she should have listened to the priest’s words. But her head sank until it once again stared at her boots, hidden beneath the hem of her dress.

Sighing, Evander gave up and stood straight as he listened to the sermon, though he reached down to hold Janus’s hand. A lifetime passed them by, composed only of distant murmurs, dark fog, and the warmth of her older brother’s hand enveloping hers.

An elbow jabbed Janus in the ribs, and she looked up to see the crowd parting for a procession. Two guards in ceremonial attire, their helms topped with twin horns, carried a coffin toward the boat waiting in the harbor.

It was beautiful, at least. Engravings of flowers and storm clouds, lightning tracing from their ether to a gentle sea, decorated the boat. The coffin was gently placed inside. The guards bowed and stepped back.

Queen Tauret stood at the front of the crowd, face buried in her hands as she sobbed. Father wrapped his arm around her, his face stoic but cracked. Janus took a shaky breath as the boat was pushed onto the lake, its sail catching the wind.

Slowly, the vessel would drift until it reached the opposite shore. Once it washed up on the beach, Eros’ soul would have found its way to the gods and joined their domain. Two lanterns burned on opposite sides of the boat—one for Ellaila, goddess of life, and one for Yesharu, god of time.

Janus wanted nothing more than to curse the gods, to chase the boat and ensure it never reached the opposite shore. When it landed, when the coffin was retrieved and placed inside the mausoleum, his death would become real.

The crowd remained to watch the boat begin its voyage. But the great lake was vast. Once the vessel was out of sight, the crowd dispersed.

Only the family remained. Eventually, Father guided Tauret from the shore. Weakened by tears, she stumbled in a daze as she followed her husband.

Evander rigidly gazed ahead. “You should follow Father. I think I’m going to stay a bit longer.”

Nodding blearily, Janus spun around, and a guard handed her the crutch he’d been holding. Wobbling on her cast-encased leg, Janus made no rush to follow her father and accepted no help from her attendant.

The pudgy-faced guard did not push her. He walked at her side, waiting when she stumbled.

The city sprawled before her and the lake behind, but Janus only made it to the edge of the first building before someone intercepted her.

A tall man draped in a black coat stood before her, wavy blonde hair framing his blindfolded eyes. Gemellus kneeled before her.

“Do you need help getting back?” He asked, voice heavily accented by the elegant Sigillite drawl.

“No,” Janus said, returning her gaze to the ground.

“Hm. Why don’t you go back to Evander, then? I think. . . I think he could use your company as much as you need his.”

“He told me to leave.”

“People do not always say what they truly feel.”

Broken, Janus looked over her shoulder, where her brother stood alone by the shore. “Okay.” She managed.

Gemellus gently turned her around, hand lingering on her shoulder until she took her first step. He touched the arm of her guard, ordering the kindly-faced man to stay back.

Hobbling on her crutch, Janus made the agonizing journey back to the lakeshore. A low thunder rang in the clouds, black masses blotting out the sun, but no rain fell.

Evander dropped to his knees. Worried, Janus limped as quickly as she could manage, but once she heard his voice, she halted. Distraught pain and rage poured from his mouth, like she’d never heard.

“Forgive me.” He repeated, over and over, amidst a stream of tears. The remainder of his ramblings were incoherent, but Janus heard those two words strong and clear.

Face falling, Janus hesitated, wondering what he meant. She bit her lip and fussed with the crutch as she loitered, unsure if she should leave or rush to his side.

The tears halted abruptly as Evander sat up. A prayer passed from his lips. “May the light of the afterlife never be mine, for there is no room in Ellaila’s domain for the wicked.”

Wicked? Was Evander saying. . . had he been begging for forgiveness because. . .

Janus shook her head and backed up as Evander pulled himself to his feet, eyes still glued to the lake.

No. Evander had done nothing wrong. This was Janus’ fault.

She’d killed Eros. Her spell had caught the room alight.

She had climbed out the window without her little brother. She had abandoned him.

This was her fault. Eros was dead because of her.

Because of her.

The world went quiet and dark, touched only by the rumble of thunder and the haze of thick clouds.

Words rang through her mind, looping on repeat. I killed Eros. It was my fault. It was me. I murdered my little brother.

Gasping, Janus dropped her crutch and spun around. If there was pain in her leg, she did not feel it.

She simply ran. And ran.

And ran.