Page 47 of Divine Fate (Cursed Legacies #4)

46

MAVEN

The last few minutes have been such a blur that I've only processed three things.

One, I killed Gideon.

Two, my mother is here.

Three, Lillian is dead.

Or maybe I haven't processed that last one yet, because my heart is still doing something horrible inside my chest. I'm suffocating from the surreality of the sight of her ripped to pieces.

She died in fear. I know that much.

And I wasn't here to help her.

Death has always been a part of my life. I've been surrounded by it for as long as I can remember. I've always been able to sense it, too–like a heavy tide going out, taking with it the spark of life.

But sensing it this time is different. It hurts. I didn't see Lillian’s spirit or feel her move on or say goodbye.

I need that goodbye. If I can't go back in time and change the fact that I wasn't here to protect her, I need to at least see her again. Which is why I sucked up my pride and prayed for the first time in who knows how long when.

Now I sense all four of my matches are tense with fear as my mother stands nearby. Her hood of shadows is up, completely concealing her face as she looms over us in these eerie, bloodstained woods. Another scythe rests on her shoulder, almost a copy of the one she gifted me.

“You came,” I finally manage.

Syntyche dips her concealed head, her voice as smooth and quiet as I remember. “Amusing as it is, I advise against including threats in your future prayers, spoken aloud or not.”

She's the furthest thing from a warm presence, but I don't miss the way my quintet members all flinch away from her voice. Even Crypt looks like he's having great difficulty adjusting to her presence or looking directly at her.

Silas isn't even trying. He's frozen in place, crimson eyes wide as he pointedly looks in the opposite direction of the reaper goddess.

They're terrified of her.

I don't sense anything, but I’ve heard she’s the goddess of fear. Maybe that affects them. But I'm too numb from the pain in my chest to try reassuring them. Instead, I look back at Syntyche.

“I need to say goodbye to Lillian.”

“So you mentioned, in between all the threats.”

I stare at the hooded figure. She makes no sound or movement.

“There must be something you can do,” I finally insist, half afraid I might break down again if this plight doesn't work.

“There is. You just haven't asked.”

What is it with the gods trying to get a please out of me? First Galene, now her?

“ Please ,” I grit, desperate enough to give in.

Syntyche considers for a moment in the dark silence before her hood dips forward again.

“I shall take you into the vestibule between the two lowest planes of existence. The vestibule is the halfway point where the spirits I reap await my brother to lead them to their respective afterlives. You may only be there briefly, for only a fully divine being can linger there without consequence.”

“ Consequence?” Crypt enunciates, finally looking at the hooded figure as he gets over the fear she emanates. “No. She stays.”

Syntyche’s hood turns toward him, distaste in her voice. “ No? ”

“She's not going anywhere without us,” Everett clarifies, managing to look at my mother again. “Especially not if it's dangerous.”

“She will likely return,” the goddess muses.

That makes Silas frown, and he finally glances over his shoulder at the hooded figure, too.

Baelfire scowls. “What do you mean, likely? There's no fucking way we're about to risk?—”

Syntyche throws her hood back, and for a fraction of a second, her face is a skeletal mask so disturbing that it makes all of us flinch away in surprise. Her face returns to normal immediately, like that was just a horrific warning. She looks down at my quintet with no expression at all, but there is menace in her voice.

“I will wipe all memories of you four from existence and watch your mortal corpses molder upon the steeples of my ruined temples if you dare question me again.”

They all go pale from her threat that she delivers more expertly than any I've heard before. But that doesn't stop Baelfire from speaking through the bond.

Holy fuck, Mayflower. You look just like…

The resemblance… Everett starts to agree before trailing off in equal terrified fascination.

Silas has whipped around to face the other way again, holding perfectly still like he thinks that will help him avoid his mother-in-law's attention. Meanwhile, Crypt's jaw is clenched tightly as he glowers back at Syntyche. His markings are lighting up again, but he ignores it completely.

Don't go, darling, he whispers inside my head. I can't follow you there. Don't do this to me again.

My chest pangs even more. Leaving them alone in this plane of existence for even a moment will hurt, but…

I need to see her one more time. I swear on my beating heart that I'll be back.

He studies me for a moment before looking down at some of the bloodstains left behind despite Silas’s quick work. Finally, he murmurs through the bond again. Give Lillian my thanks.

And mine, Everett adds. She did more for me than she ever needed to.

She deserves all our gratitude, Silas agrees, still not looking at my mother.

Baelfire squeezes my hand for comfort. Give Lillian a big hug for me, get your goodbye with her, and then get back here before we lose our fucking minds again. Please.

I nod and pull away from my quintet to face Syntyche. “Take me to the vestibule.”

She moves gracefully, twisting her scythe as a hollow whistling sound fills the air. Softly glowing holy magic runes follow the path of her scythe as it swings in an arc, tearing through the fabric of this plane so that now I have a view into…nothing.

Pure white emptiness.

I analyze it, unsure what I'm looking at. When I glance over my shoulder to see how my quintet is reacting to this, I realize they’re all in the exact positions they were a moment ago. They’re not even breathing as time holds perfectly still.

“Once you return, I will release them from this suspension in time,” Syntyche says, apparently done waiting for me as she steps into the vestibule of the Beyond. “As mortals, they cannot glimpse into the fringes of the Beyond without being irreversibly drawn to it. Come.”

Ignoring whatever the hell my heart is doing, I step through the rip between planes of existence. As soon as I step into the empty white void, I feel…light. The crushing weight of Lillian’s death lifts from my shoulders and chest as I walk after my mother.

I look around, noting how scentless and silent it is here. It’s perfectly temperate as we walk across a white sand-like substance through all the nothingness.

“Is this what the Beyond looks like?”

“No. The vestibule allows spirits to review their past helps and harms done to others so they may better understand my brother’s final verdict of their afterlife.” She stops and motions at more nothingness with her scythe, glancing down at me with her pure black irises. “Your caretaker has been re-experiencing some of her most noble moments. Now she waits for you. I have a favor to discuss with my brother before I return.”

She walks away without another word, leaving me to venture tentatively into what looks like more empty whiteness. But as I step forward, my surroundings change and transform.

Almost within the blink of an eye, I’m standing in my old hovel in the Nether again. It’s where I spent so many lonely days and stayed up most nights listening to ghosts weep, whisper, and wail outside.

Sitting on the floor beside a makeshift fireplace is Lillian, carefully sketching out a chessboard with a piece of charcoal. She’s so focused that she hasn’t seen me yet, but emotions clog my throat so fast that I can’t stop the small sound I make.

Gods, it’s so nice to see her like this again. Alive and in one piece, she glances up and smiles brightly, both shocked and elated.

“Maven!” She stands and moves toward me, brushing charcoal off her hands before she stops in front of me. As always, she doesn’t go for the hug without me initiating it.

And I do.

Of course, I do.

I don’t care that my nerves clench when her arms wrap around me so tightly. I don’t fucking care about anything except for the fact that I get to hug Lillian one more time.

“I’m sorry,” I choke. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Sorry that she died in fear. Sorry that I was the cause of it. Sorry for all the shit I've put her through.

Lillian pulls back, and I see tears in her bright blue eyes. She smiles. “No, little raven. No more blaming yourself. Nothing that happened was your fault.”

“Gideon wouldn’t have hurt you if he weren’t trying to get to me. Amadeus would never have sent him if I?—”

“Shh,” she soothes before glancing at the makeshift board. “Is now a good time for that game you mentioned? Your mother told me you couldn’t stay too long.”

Glancing down, I see the same hand carved pieces she and I played with for years. The ones she gifted me for one of my “birthdays” so long ago.

Oh, my fucking gods.

I’m about to burst into tears just like Kenzie.

I manage to hold it together and nod my head. Lillian and I sit on the floor of the hovel just like we used to. Except, unlike old times, daylight filters in through the windows, illuminating this rickety old space as if this is now a happy place.

Silently, I arrange my side of the board, and she does the same. I make a move. She makes a move. I make another.

Finally, I can’t take it anymore. I look at her. “Did it work?”

She tips her head, sending a pale corkscrew curl bouncing out of her braid. “Did what work?”

“You accepted Galene’s mission in order to redeem yourself.” I pause, looking over my shabby old hovel before examining her. “Will you get to see Annabel again?”

Lillian studies the chessboard, moving another piece. “I don’t know yet. Sachar may decide I didn’t do enough. My past may be more checkered than you realize.”

I clench my teeth, looking down at the game. She’s always been good at chess, which is nice because it offers a small distraction as I have to think about my next move.

Moving one of my knights, I look at her again. “I’ll make sure you get to her. I’ll talk to Sachar.”

“Maven.”

“No,” I huff, shaking my head. “After everything you’ve been through? It’s absolute manticore shit if you don’t get what Galene promised. That’s it. No matter what it takes, I’m going to?—”

“Enough!” Lillian snaps with enough surprising volume that I shut up. Her bright blue eyes are unyielding. “Everything I’ve been through? Maven Amato, it’s time for you to start thinking about yourself. I made my choices, so whatever afterlife I’m assigned to, I have no regrets anymore. But I’ve watched you for years and years, and do you know what I saw?”

I move another piece after she makes a quick move. “A demigoddess with no fucking clue about her true nature?”

She shakes her head, huffing at me. “I saw a brilliant, fiercely determined girl who put others ahead of herself every time and never asked for anything in exchange. You didn’t sit around feeling sorry for yourself, even on the worst days when it was killing me to see everything they put you through. You just took it on the chin and survived so that you could do the very thing you were chosen to do—even if you had no idea about that,” she adds.

Implying I was chosen instead of specifically made to kill Amadeus is a nice thought.

Lillian moves one of her pieces again, and I frown when I realize she’s a lot closer to checkmate than I thought.

“But mostly, I saw a girl who forgot that she deserves to be happy,” she finally murmurs, looking at me again. “You were always so busy preparing for a tragic ending. You survived for others, but it’s time you stopped putting everyone else first. It’s time you live for you. I need you to promise me that you’ll live and love and be happy without always putting others ahead of yourself, because you deserve that and so much more. Promise. ”

I consider everything she’s saying.

In my past life, I was a survivor. I made most of my choices based on necessity. The one time I really felt like I was taking matters into my own hands was when I decided to leverage my unique position as the telum to free the Nether humans.

Maybe that’s why learning about my orchestrated existence bothered me so much. It felt like that choice was just another given—another thing I was simply made to do.

But now? Lillian is right.

I already survived the tragic fate I always anticipated. And even though I didn’t stick the landing, I’m really fucking proud of the fact that the Nether humans are free. I already know what future happiness I’m fighting for—a lifetime with my quintet.

They will always be my priority, but besides that…I wouldn’t mind being a little more selfish.

After all, a demigoddess bitch deserves a break now and then.

“I promise,” I smile at her.

Lillian looks relieved before she knocks over one of my pieces. “Checkmate.”

Damn it.

She laughs at my expression. When a strange bell begins to toll somewhere in the distance, Lillian stands, brushing more charcoal off her hands and beaming at me as I also get to my feet.

“That bell is mine. It means Sachar is ready for me. If you don’t mind seeing me off…”

I nod and then pause, glancing down at the makeshift chessboard that was such a big part of my melancholy childhood. “Can you take things from the vestibule into the Beyond?”

“I’m not sure.”

Worth a try anyway. I grab both queens from the chessboard, pocketing one and offering the other to her. “Something so you won’t forget me in the Beyond,” I mutter, feeling ridiculously sentimental.

Lillian laughs as we leave the hovel and walk back out into white nothingness.

“You’re not very forgettable, Maven. But if I can take it with me, I’ll treasure?—”

“Mom!” a girl's voice shouts in the distance.

Lillian’s eyes widen and fill with fresh tears as she whirls to face the direction from which we heard the voice. A moment later, the same curly-haired girl from the picture I saw on her nightstand skips into view, a big grin on her face.

She’s walking beside a tall, looming cloaked figure that I assume is my mother. But when they stop not far from us, the figure removes its hood, and I realize I’m looking at my mother’s twin brother.

Sachar.

The eternal judge of the Beyond has the same pitch black hair and eyes as my mother, as well as the same colorless skin and symmetrical, hard features. The only difference is his much shorter hair, his square jaw, and the fact that he doesn’t carry a scythe. His gaze falls on me, and there’s something incredibly penetrating about it, as if he sees everything about me all at once.

He says nothing as Lillian runs forward and scoops up Annabel, both of them weeping with joy. It’s a touching sight, and I’m genuinely happy for her.

But at the same time, my heart throbs strangely inside my chest.

I’m going to miss her so fucking much.

“Bye,” I whisper as Annabel pulls on Lillian’s hand, dragging her further into the whiteness.

Lillian looks back and waves one more time, a bright smile on her teary face.

I wave back.

Annabel beams over her shoulder, shouts a thank you, and just like that, they vanish into the white haze of the distance.

The bell stops tolling.

Several quiet moments later, tears are still trying to escape my eyes. I quickly take a deep breath before looking back at Sachar.

“Okay, Uncle Judge. Take me back.”

He shakes his head silently.

I tense, my words coming out sharp. “What the fuck do you mean, no? Syntyche said I could only be here briefly. It’s time for me to go.”

Sachar shakes his head again, but says nothing. His expression tells me nothing.

Shit. If he’s saying I can’t go back, my quintet is going to be so fucking pissed at me for leaving.

Am I about to have to fight the judge of the Beyond? I didn’t grab Cuttrina from the forest floor after killing Gideon, but Pierce is stashed in one of my boots. My hand is already itching toward it as I wonder if adamantine hurts divine beings.

But before I can attack my uncle and figure out a way back to the mortal realm by myself, someone clears his throat behind me.

“He can’t speak, Sweet Pea.”

Sweet Pea?

Irritation prickles over me as I turn, ready to give my best death glare to this stranger who’s trying to give me yet another flower-based nickname.

“Who the fuck are you calling?—”

My words cut off as I realize exactly who I’m looking at. My heart begins to pound as an unfamiliar emotion sinks in.

Aside from his warm olive-toned skin and messy black hair, I don't look much like Pietro Amato. He's nice looking but not striking, aside from his smile and sparkling hazel eyes. He’s dressed in a simple white button up, slacks, and shoes.

But his presence is a palpable thing. Even as a spirit, it's like he has his own gravitational pull. Warm and kind and strong and...fatherly. Which is extremely fucking strange, but not bad.

At least, it's not bad until his eyes tear up.

"My little miracle," he whispers, half laughing and half on the brink of crying. “Dear gods, look at you. So grown up and beautiful. The spitting image of your mother. Seeing you finally, I'm just so..."

I wait, carefully keeping my expression blank so that if he admits he's ashamed to have a daughter as messed up as I am, I can pretend it doesn't hurt.

Pietro Amato finally shakes his head, wiping moisture from one of his cheeks. “I’m so proud of you, it hurts. Getting to watch you grow and fight and become you from my place in the Beyond has been the greatest reward I could have possibly asked for.”

Oh.

The lump in my throat makes it impossible to form the words I can't even find, so I nod a little too aggressively. This is such unfamiliar territory that I’m completely out of my depth, so I blurt the one thing I think is relevant.

"I wish I knew you while you were alive."

So much for not getting sappy.

Amato beams, reaching out as if to brush my hair back from my face, but his hand passes through me. “We’ll have so much time together in your afterlife someday, you'll get sick of me. But for now, I’ll happily share in all your happiest moments from here. All right?”

I nod again. I can't help the feeling that's settled over me. I don't know this man, yet in a way, I do. He spent his life taking care of others. Although he's clearly a purer soul than I ever was, I like to think that I at least inherited a fraction of his altruistic side.

Sachar pulls a strange pocket watch from one of his cloak pockets and tucks it away, looking meaningfully at Amato. My father nods and smiles at me again.

“I love you, Sweet Pea. I always have and I always will. I just have a favor to ask.”

A favor? I hesitate. “Okay.”

“Stop thinking you’re tainting our last name. You don’t have to go by Amato if you don’t want to, but…I would be extremely honored if you did.”

Godsdamn it, now I’m seriously struggling to keep the moisture from escaping my eyes. I clear my throat, nodding.

“All right. I have a favor, too.”

“What is it?”

“Whenever I end up here one day, don’t call me Sweet Pea. I’m not a fucking flower.”

He laughs. He doesn’t bother making me that promise before Sachar makes a strange sign with one of his hands, and they both vanish, leaving me alone in the white nothingness. After I’ve stared at literal nothing for a few moments, letting the fact that I just met my real father sink in, Syntyche again appears.

I’m still not sure if she walks or floats under that cloak, but her movements are so graceful that it has the same effect either way. She stops in front of me.

“It’s time to return.”

I study her. “That was the favor you asked Sachar for. You just wanted me to meet Amato.”

“Yes.”

“So do you feel like… that about him?” I check, too curious for my own good.

“That is the first foolish question you have ever asked me,” the goddess of death informs me before swinging her scythe to rip an entry back into the mortal realm.

I see where I inherited my dislike for handing out personal information.

I step out of the vestibule between the lowest planes of existence and find myself in the exact same spot I started. My quintet is still frozen in place in this dark, foreboding forest, but gods, I’m so fucking relieved to be back at their side.

As soon as I step toward them and the rip behind Syntyche and I seals itself, all four of my matches unfreeze. They blink in confusion to see me facing them. Silas rotates slightly to keep my mother out of his peripheral vision.

Changed your mind? Baelfire frowns, checking through the bond.

No. I just got back.

Holy shit, that was a fast goodbye.

Her mother is the goddess of time, you fucking dolt, Crypt points out.

I feel a million times more at peace than the last time I was standing in the dark thrall of Everbound Forest. My chest still aches, knowing Lillian is in the Beyond and I won't see her again in this lifetime. I’m not sure how soon that ache will get away, but closure makes a big fucking difference.

I turn back to Syntyche. “Thank you.”

She dips her head slightly. “I anticipate more polite prayers from you in the future. Or from your mortal matches. Some of their prayers have amused me.”

When her dark gaze moves to Everett, he turns redder than I’ve ever seen him and covers his face.

What is she talking about? I ask only him.

Nothing. But feel free to reap my soul to make this moment end sooner.

The goddess of death smirks at his reaction. It’s the first real expression she’s worn in the presence of my quintet, and I don’t miss that they all flinch away from her again. With that, my mother pulls her hood up and dissolves into shadows.