Page 101 of Evermore (The Never Sky #3)

Thorne

T he gods filed into the council chamber like vultures to a corpse.

They settled around the ancient table with their false solemnity, as if this were any ordinary meeting.

As if the world hadn’t fucking shattered days ago.

As if Archer Bramwell wasn’t dead and hearts weren’t aching while they played at politics.

Minerva settled into her seat with quiet dignity.

Tuck stood behind her, arms crossed, his usual stoic mask firmly in place though the grief in his eyes betrayed him.

I recognized that look, the same hollow emptiness I saw every time I caught my own reflection.

Loving mortals was hard. We’d been on this cycle forever, but it never got easier.

Especially with a life cut far too short.

Raeth arrived next, his calculating gaze sweeping the room, lingering on Paesha with poorly disguised hunger. My power flared instinctively, ready to rip his fucking throat out if he so much as breathed wrong in her direction. She was mine. And that child’s.

They all knew of Archer’s death, of course.

The “unfortunate passing” of Stirling’s young king had spread through the realms with remarkable speed.

But they knew only the lie we’d crafted: that he’d been found unresponsive in his chambers, that no one knew what had happened.

A convenient lie to hide the truth until Paesha was ready to give it.

Until she was ready to unleash hell. Likely in less than an hour.

She’d spent days holding back. Whispering to voices that seemed quieter in her grief, but the swell of her power was pressing on her and she was done with all of it.

My Ever sat at the head of the table, her face a carefully composed mask that revealed nothing of the storm that raged beneath.

I felt it though, the darkness inside her calling to mine like a siren song.

The crown sat on her dark hair—not actually Archer’s crown since she’d refused to wear it again after the funeral—but one forged from Levanya’s sword.

A warrior’s crown for a warrior queen. My warrior queen. And his. Forevermore she was his.

Quill hadn’t left her side since that night, as if afraid she might disappear too if they were separated.

Now she sat in a chair pulled close to Paesha’s, her small hand clutched in the queen’s larger one, Archer’s deck of cards still visible in her pocket.

The child’s eyes were too old, too knowing for her face, haunted by what she had witnessed.

By what she had lost. Another thing I couldn’t fix.

Another failure to add to my growing list of shit I couldn’t control. I should have fucking been there.

Serene was the last to arrive, draped in mourning colors that somehow managed to leech the candlelight from the room. “Such tragedy,” she murmured, her voice like silk over steel. “The young king had such… potential.”

My fingers tightened on the back of Paesha’s chair until the wood creaked in protest. Serene, Goddess of Lust and Loss, would be feeding well these days, drawing power from the grief that saturated the castle, the city, the realm.

My grief. Paesha’s grief. Fucking vulture.

But she was here. And she didn’t have to be.

The heavy door was about to swing closed when footsteps echoed in the corridor beyond.

“Wait.” The voice was smooth, amused, laced with arrogance. “Surely you weren’t planning to start without us?”

Alastor strode into the chamber as if he owned them, Irri trailing behind him like a brightly colored shadow. Her eyes were clearer today, more focused than I’d seen them since her return from the Forgotten. She met my gaze with unsettling directness, a smile playing at her lips.

Paesha sat a little straighter. “Alastor. We obviously weren’t expecting you.”

“Clearly.” He made his way around the table, pausing behind Quill’s chair. The child stiffened, her shoulders drawing up toward her ears as she pressed closer to Paesha. My power surged beneath my skin, ready to rip him apart if he so much as touched either of them.

He leaned down, close enough that only Paesha and I could hear his next words.

“I’m not here for you, Keeper. I’m here because I always liked the thieving king.

” His eyes glittered with something that might have been genuine regret, though it was gone before I could be certain.

“And I have a feeling you’re hiding something.

This sudden action tastes like vengeance, and we’re here for that alone. ”

Paesha’s expression didn’t change, but I felt the subtle shift in her power, the darkness curling at the edges of her being, eager to be unleashed. My own darkness answered, reaching for hers with hungry tendrils. We were bound in this, as in all things.

Her voice carried the weight of command that came naturally to her. “Take a seat then. If you’re brave enough to see this through.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t miss it.” Alastor settled into an empty chair, Irri perching on its arm like an exotic bird.

The door closed with a heavy finality, sealing us in with our secrets, our grief, our burning need for justice.

“Why is the child here again?” Serene asked, her eyes fixed on Quill with poorly disguised distaste. “Surely even you can see the danger in this now.”

The contempt in her voice made my power stir, eager to show her exactly what I thought of her concern.

To hell with diplomacy and allies, I wanted to wrap my hands around her throat until that musical voice cracked.

But Paesha squeezed Quill’s hand, a silent signal for calm that I read as clearly as if she’d shouted.

For her, I swallowed my rage. Only for her.

“The child stays,” she said, her tone brooking no argument.

Serene exchanged a look with Raeth, the God of Joy and Sorrow, something unspoken passing between them. I caught it, another fucking tally in the growing list of gods to keep my eyes on.

“The Fera has no place in these discussions. Particularly if there’s any possibility of traveling to Etherium. As an… unknown, she should not be permitted near our sacred realms.”

Paesha’s eyes hardened, and I stepped closer, my hand moving to her shoulder, a reminder that she wasn’t alone in this, that I was here. Through every battle, every nightmare, every godsdamned apocalypse if necessary.

Before she could respond, Minerva cleared her throat.

“I know exactly what the girl is. And that is all any of you need to trouble yourselves with.” Her gaze swept the table, daring anyone to challenge her.

None did. Even Alastor, who had been old when most of them were newly formed, inclined his head in reluctant deference.

“Now, perhaps we should move on to the matter at hand.”

All eyes turned to Paesha, waiting. I could feel the weight of expectation pressing down, the tension drawn taut as a bowstring.

Whatever she decided here, whatever path she chose, would ripple through the realms with consequences none of us could fully predict.

But she would lead, and I would follow. Forever.

Until the stars burned out and the last realm crumbled. Until the end of everything.

“I’m not going to be a hero today, so if that’s what you’ve come to witness, you can leave.

Today’s not about doing the right thing.

It’s not even about good versus evil. If it were, you’re all standing on the wrong side.

I have no fucking desire for happily ever after.

Only blood. And destruction. I’m taking a page from an old friend’s book and doing something reckless. ”

Archer’s words. His philosophy. His legacy that lived on through her choices.

The grief sat so heavily in the room, Quill’s power no doubt, I could hardly swallow around it.

But alongside it was fierce pride. Paesha would be magnificent, terrible, unstoppable.

And I’d be right beside her, carving a bloody path wherever she directed.

Power rolled off her in waves, darkness seeping from her skin like smoke, spreading across the floor, climbing the walls until the entire room was smothered in shadow. Only Quill remained untouched, a small island of light amid the encroaching dark.

Our company, the gods that had agreed to help us, shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

Even Alastor, who had seen this power firsthand, watched with newfound wariness.

Good. Let them be afraid. Let them see what became of those who crossed us, who took what was ours, who broke the rules of their own making.

Paesha stood, pulling a dagger from her thigh and twisting it between her fingers. A gesture she’d no doubt learned from Death’s Maiden. “This is your last chance to walk away. Once we leave this room, you either stand beside me or beneath me.”

I stepped forward, drawing on my power to open the portal to Etherium. Golden light spilled from my hands, cutting through the darkness, creating a doorway. My power always answered her call, as I did. Just as I always fucking would.

“Choose,” Paesha commanded, rising to her feet, her hand still firmly holding Quill’s.

One by one, the gods made their choice. Minerva and Tuck moved to stand behind Paesha without hesitation.

Alastor and Irri exchanged a look before joining them, curiosity and anticipation evident in their stance.

Orathis hesitated, calculating the odds as he always did, before stepping forward.

Veurs, Raeth and Nyaxis were slow to rise, but eventually only Serene remained seated, her expression unreadable.

“The Fates are not to be trifled with,” she warned. “Not even by gods.”

“Then it’s fortunate I’m more than that now,” Paesha replied, though none at the table save our inner circle understood the full truth of her words. None knew of Aeris’s death. Of Paesha’s ascension. Of what my Ever had become.

“They will see us coming. Likely they already have. That’s how they work,” Orathis warned.

Paesha tilted her head to the side.

Irri mirrored it. “That sounds like fear. Interesting.”

Serene’s eyes narrowed, but she rose with fluid grace and joined us. “Your funeral.”

“No,” Paesha’s gaze found mine. “That’s already happened. This is something else entirely.”

In that moment, I knew with unshakable certainty that I would follow her anywhere, into battle, into darkness, into Death’s Court and beyond if necessary.

Not because of destiny or ancient bonds, but because she was right.

Because she deserved justice. Because Archer deserved to be avenged.

And because I loved her with everything I was, everything I had ever been, everything I would ever be.

With a gesture, I widened the portal, feeling the familiar strain as reality bent to my will. The path to Etherium lay open before us, shimmering with golden light.

Without a word, the gods moved to encircle Paesha and Quill, their bodies forming a living shield that would hide them from the Fates’ sight.

I found myself beside Tuck, his solid presence reassuring as we prepared to cross over.

He caught my eye, and something passed between us—understanding, brotherhood, shared loss.

“Ready?” I asked Paesha, offering my hand across the small space between us.

“For him,” she said, as if those were the last soft words she’d speak that day.

“For him,” Quill said at her side. “And for us too.”

Together, we stepped through the portal, crossing from the mortal realm into the twilight world of Etherium.

The familiar landscape spread before us, though it was changed from what it had been.

It had darkened, edging toward true night.

Structures that had stood for millennia were beginning to crumble at their edges.

The signs of failing power were everywhere now, impossible to ignore.

We moved as one toward the Fates’ domain, the gods maintaining their protective circle around Paesha and Quill. No words were needed; we all understood the gravity of what we were about to do, the lines we were about to cross. Lines I’d happily obliterate for her. For them.

I ripped a door to the Fates, and as we stepped through, three figures materialized, their forms indistinct yet unmistakable.

“You returned? We’ve ended this.”

I shifted forward, drawing their attention to me, away from the shielded figures at our center. My power gathered around my hands, through my body, eager to be unleashed. “We come seeking justice.”

“Justice? From us? If anyone deserves justice, it’s us. For the wounds of our torment. For being bound to this loom. You forget your place, Keeper.”

“Your place,” another voice hissed. “Your role.”

“Your boundaries,” the third finished.

My smile was all teeth and no humor.

Their attention shifted to the assembled gods. “And you bring others? To what end? Do you think numbers will sway us? That we’ll bend to your collective will?”

To their credit, the gathered gods remained silent, standing firm despite the pressure of the Fates’ displeasure bearing down upon them.

“Only the one with the power to break our hold on the Loom could hope to challenge us,” the Fates continued, their voices smug with certainty. “And she is bound to a mortal throne now. She can never set foot in Etherium.”

With a silent signal, the gods stepped aside, revealing Paesha and Quill standing at the center of our group. For the first time in my existence, I heard the Fates gasp in genuine shock. The sound was sweeter than any music I’d ever heard.

Paesha stepped forward, darkness swirling around her like a living cloak, her eyes burning with power and purpose. My heart threatened to burst with fierce pride and absolute devotion as I watched her, my Ever, my queen, my everything, come to break the godsdamned world.

“Hello, fuckers.”