Page 106 of Evermore (The Never Sky #3)

The audience had gone silent again, their adoration smothered by the reality of Ezra’s cruelty.

I met his gaze without flinching, refusing to give him the satisfaction of reading anything on my face.

“What now? Is this the part where you tell us your grand plan? Because I’ve got to tell you, I’m kind of not interested. Shocking, I know.”

Ezra’s smile was cold. “Oh, we’re just getting started, Huntress. You see, I’ve brought you here for a specific purpose. You’re going to help me restore what you broke.”

“And what would that be? Your ego? Your pride? Your inflated sense of self-importance? Hate to break it to you, but even I have my limitations.”

His hand flashed out, striking me across the face with enough force to split my lip. Blood filled my mouth, metallic and warm. I spat it onto the stage between us, refusing to wipe it away.

“You broke the Fates, and now you’re going to help me fix them.”

“I can’t and I won’t.”

“You misunderstand.” He reached into his jacket, withdrawing a sheet of parchment and a pen. “You aren’t going to do it yourself. You’re going to summon the one who can.”

Ice filled my veins as understanding dawned. “Quill.”

“The Fera,” he corrected. “A Fate, according to Minerva’s touching revelation. How convenient that you’ve bound her to you. How perfect that she trusts you implicitly.”

“I won’t do it.” The words came out as a growl. “I will die first. I will watch every person in this theater die first.”

“Will you?” He gestured to an Unmade Guardian, who dragged forward a struggling man from the front row. “Let’s test that theory, shall we?”

The man screamed as Ezra’s power wrapped around him, lifting him off his feet. I recognized him immediately. My father.

“Stop,” I said, the word tearing from my throat. “Just… stop.”

“Write the note,” Ezra said, holding out the pen and parchment. “A simple request. Ask your precious child to come dance with you on this stage. Tell her you miss performing together. Tell her anything that will bring her here.”

“She’ll bring an army and you know it.”

“Best fix that too.”

“I won’t.”

My father’s screams intensified as Ezra’s power tightened around him. Bones cracked, one by one.

I swallowed past my panic, reaching desperately for my power again, but it remained frustratingly beyond my grasp.

“Write. The. Note.” Ezra thrust the pen into my hand.

I stared at it, mind racing. If I wrote what he wanted, Quill might come. She would walk right into his trap, believing she was coming to me. But if I didn’t, how many would die before Ezra tired of this game?

Looking up, I met my father’s pain-filled eyes.

I could nearly hear him whisper ‘Treasure’ to me.

He gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head.

Don’t do it , that gesture said. Whatever he wants, don’t give in .

His limbs shook as Ezra’s power squeezed tighter.

Blood trickled from his nose, his ears, his mouth.

I couldn’t watch this. I couldn’t— He looked at me again, pressing his mouth shut to stay the screams. Then nodded once more.

I’m strong enough to die, Treasure. Let me die for your girl.

“Kill him,” I said, the words barely audible.

A swift death would be a mercy. I closed my eyes when the final crack of bone echoed around the theater.

He’d been strong in that last moment. My throat tightened with a tangle of emotions.

After a lifetime of failures, after trading me away like I was worth less than the high he craved, he’d finally chosen to be a father.

Too little, too late, and yet in his final moments, he’d given me the only gift he had left: his death.

Ezra raised an eyebrow. “Another?”

I would never betray Quill. Never put her in danger.

But I needed time. Needed to think, to plan, to find a way out that didn’t involve sacrificing innocents or the child I loved more than my own life.

I’d planned to carry Ezra and I away on shadowed hands.

To free the mortals by leaving them behind.

This though, this loss of power and fear for hundreds of lives stilled me.

Before I could respond, two Unmade Guardians stepped onto the stage from the sides, dragging two familiar figures between them.

My heart stuttered. Elowen and Thea.

The Guardians shoved them to their knees before Ezra. Elowen’s eyes found mine, filled with a mixture of relief and fear. Thea’s gaze was harder, calculating, already assessing the situation for weaknesses, for opportunities.

“What a delightful turn of events, wouldn’t you say? This is your real family, is it not?” He circled them slowly. “I was just explaining to the Huntress that she needs to write a note to little Quill, inviting her to join us for a performance.”

Elowen’s eyes widened in horror. “Paesha, no. You can’t.”

“She will if she wants you both to live,” Ezra countered, the threat unmistakable.

Elowen looked up at me, her face suddenly calm despite the blood trickling down her temple. She shook her head, her gaze never wavering from mine. “I’m not afraid, Paesha. Don’t you dare bring that child here.”

Thea nodded in fierce agreement. “We both know what matters most. You protect her. Whatever it takes.”

Ezra laughed, the sound like breaking glass. “How touching. Two mortals, willing to die for a child that isn’t even theirs.” He turned to me, extending the pen once more. “What will it be, Huntress? Their lives? Or the note?”

I stared at the pen, at Elowen and Thea kneeling before a god who saw them as nothing but leverage, at the audience holding their collective breath, at my father’s broken body now discarded on the floor.

“Well, Huntress?” Ezra’s smile was triumphant, certain of his victory. “What’s it going to be?”