Page 47 of Evermore (The Never Sky #3)

Paesha

T he Remnants were no longer my enemy. They were an extension of me, a living, breathing part of my consciousness that I could command with a mere thought.

I lay on the bed, watching them ripple across my skin like dark water, rising and falling in perfect, controlled waves.

Each undulation was a declaration: I was not broken. I was becoming something else entirely.

As I lay there, lost in the dance of shadows on my skin, a sudden pang of longing pierced through the dark haze of my thoughts.

Quill. My sweet, innocent Quill, with her infectious laughter and boundless curiosity.

What would she think if she could see me now, willingly embracing the darkness I’d fought so hard to protect her from?

With a trembling hand, I reached into the folds of my dress, my fingers searching until they brushed against a soft, familiar texture.

I pulled out a ribbon, faded and frayed from countless adventures, a tangible reminder of the love that anchored me to my humanity.

It was one of Quill’s, a simple strip of fabric she’d used to tie back her unruly curls, but to me, it was a lifeline, a connection to the person I’d been before the gods had shattered my world.

I brought the ribbon to my lips, breathing in the faint scent of lavender and sunshine that clung to its fibers. Memories flooded my mind, moments of joy and laughter, of whispered secrets and shared dreams.

Suspended between past and present, love and vengeance, a glimmer of light caught my eye.

Thorne’s golden book appeared at the foot of my bed.

I stared at it, my heart clenching with a mixture of hatred and longing.

Not for him, but for the life I had before him.

With a shaking hand, I reached for it, my fingers hovering above its shimmering surface.

Alastor’s daughter Sylvie’s voice curled through my mind like tendrils of mist. “Open it,” she whispered, her words a siren’s call.

“Play the game. Take control. You know what he needs to do. Make him do it.”

I felt the smile tug on my lips long before the pencil touched the paper, though I knew if I were too obvious, he’d become suspicious.

Reverius Hawthorne Noctus,

I saw your face in the grain of wood on my prison floor today. Alastor says it’s just a bedroom, but he fidgets with his clothes too much to be taken seriously. Have you learned a new spying hobby? The voices think you have. Do you know the voices?

Paesha Marian Vox (pretending Noctus)

His response was immediate.

Hello Paesha darling,

How lovely that you’ve remembered where to find me. I am loath to admit that it was not me within the floorboards, but such a task to see that beautiful face is not at all above me. Are you well? Have you eaten?

Thorne (Always)

I tapped the end of the pencil to my mouth as I considered what to say next. How far to lead him.

Always Thorne but sometimes Reverius,

How might I find myself if I am lost to madness?

If the room hangs upside down and the voices sing of rain and hammers?

Am I well? I am not unwell. Am I? Do you remember how you promised a path for me?

Remember when you said you’d do anything to keep me safe?

Funny how promises sound so beautiful until they shatter.

Sometimes Unwell,

Paesha Marian Vox

Paesha Marian,

If you’re lost to madness, then I will find my way there too.

If the room hangs upside down, I’ll walk the ceiling.

If the voices sing of rain and hammers, I’ll learn the melody and we will dance together.

Whatever madness you’re piecing together, I’ll be the fool who tries to make sense of it. Can you tell me what you ate today?

Still only Thorne

Keeper of Thorns,

What a noble fool you are, offering to wade into my madness as though it were a shallow stream instead of an endless sea. Tell me, how do you plan to keep your footing when even I can no longer feel the ground? The voices whisper that you will drown. Do you fear it? Do you dream of it?

I ate nothing but the words I wished you’d say aloud instead of writing. They were bitter, but I am full. Alastor says that’s not a meal, but he doesn’t understand hunger the way I do. Not the way you do. Do you?

Come, Thorne. Come and prove you can swim. Or perhaps I’ll drift so far that even you cannot follow.

Treading the edges,

Paesha Marian Vox

My Paesha,

I know what you must think, but I did not refuse to go to the Forgotten to keep you chained. The law is absolute. If I go there, I may not return. And if I cannot return to you, there is no point to going at all, not when there must be another way.

I will find another key to your freedom.

If it lies in a place darker than the Forgotten, I will go.

If it demands a price heavier than my immortality, I will pay it.

If it means tearing apart everything I have ever been, then I will do so gladly—because you are worth it, Paesha. You have always been worth it.

You may think yourself lost to madness, but I will gladly lose my mind if it means finding you. Tell me how to follow. Give me a thread to hold, and I will trace it through every shadow, every storm.

You are not a song I can forget. You are the melody that breaks me, over and over, and still, I will sing it.

Yours,

Thorne

My mind raced as my eyes read and reread his words. Why was he so very good at lying beautifully and so very bad at meaning it? He could have been so fucking easy to love if he had been only Thorne. But that was never going to be.

Your Thorne,

I danced with you once. And you sang in the blue fire. You burned and let Alastor put the chains around my wrists. I remember in small moments. When the voices sleep. When they don’t whisper of murder and vengeance. Did the sun shine today? Can you see the flowers? Can you see me?

Paesha plus some others

The Remnants swirled approvingly around the edges of the page, dark tendrils seeming to caress the words.

I closed the book, not trusting myself to continue this back and forth with him.

He was not a victim. Nor would he be the victor.

That was all that mattered right now. I had barely pushed the book under my pillow when Alastor walked in, carrying a tray.

I sat up. “I know they say good help is hard to come by, but surely you could have asked one of your little minions to play servant.”

“How are we feeling today?” he asked, that infuriating smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

I let the Remnants dance across my skin, purposefully erratic. “The stars are bleeding again. Can’t you see them?”

His smile faltered for a moment before he set the tray on my bedside table. “Eat.”

“Oh, look who learned a one-syllable word. Your vocabulary tutor must be so proud.” I looked at the contents of the tray, wrinkling my nose. “What, no five course meal? And here I thought I was your honored guest.”

“You’re testing my patience.” The Remnants on his neck pulsed darker, like ink spreading through water and even I couldn’t deny how handsome he was. For an asshole.

I picked up the spoon, making sure to hold it as awkwardly as possible. “Well, someone has to. Clearly your creepy guards are too busy cowering to give you an honest performance review.” I took a deliberately slow sip of the soup, letting a drop spill down my chin.

“When you’re done playing with your food like a child, you will demonstrate your control over the Remnants.”

I dabbed at my chin with exaggerated delicacy. “You know what they say about rushing a lady while she dines. Actually, you probably don’t, given your charming personality.”

His Remnants lashed out, knocking the spoon from my hand. “Lift the tray.”

I felt the compulsion tear through me, but this time I was ready. I let my own surface slowly, like reluctant serpents, making them tremble and falter as they wrapped around the tray. It rose an inch, wobbled dramatically, and clattered back down.

“Again,” he commanded.

“You know,” I said through gritted teeth, making a show of concentration, “most teachers start with something smaller. Like a feather. Or their ego. Too fragile?” The tray rose again, shaking.

“You’re holding back.”

“And you’re as observant as ever.” I let the tray drop again with a clang. “Though I suppose that’s what happens when you spend centuries having everyone bow to your every whim. The brain gets soft.”

His hand shot out, fingers curling into a fist, and his Remnants surged forward. But before they could reach me, I blurted, “I know how to bring Reverius into the Forgotten.”

The Remnants froze mid-strike, hanging in the air like black lightning. Alastor’s eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “What did you say?”

I leaned forward, grinning. “Oh, now I have your attention, don’t I, Al?”

I stared down at my wrist, watching his bindings cut into me as my Remnants swirled lazily over flushed skin. I’d been too quick with my defense. But I had no patience for Alastor’s brand of torture today.

He narrowed his eyes. “I would truly love nothing more than to send you away from my Vale, you infuriating little creature. Tell me your plan.”

“I thought maybe I’d shake my titties at him and see if that did the trick. Men aren’t fickle when it comes to nipples, I’ve learned.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, tilting his head back. “For Fates’ sake, never say the word titties to me again.”

“Okay, but to clarify, nipples is fine?”

His power surged forward, wrapping around my mouth like fingers.

Typical. I rolled my eyes and laid back against my pillow crossing my arms over my chest as I began to hum wildly out of tune.

He tried to speak but I ignored him, instead, sending my Remnants out into the halls of the Vale while he wasn’t paying attention.

Brilliant, Sylvie sang into my mind. Ask him about my mother. Distract him.

“Tell me about Sylvie,” I blurted out, expecting an immediate lashing to come from the woman in my mind. But she remained quiet.

“Who gave you that name?” Alastor asked, stepping closer. “Is she one of the voices you hear, Treasure?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Don’t call me Al.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Tell me about your daughter.”

As I watched him contemplate, the Remnants roamed the empty halls.

I could not see through them, only hear as they whispered their reports.

There was nothing. Only a single robed figure somewhere close to the entrance, standing completely still.

So still, he might’ve been a statue had his burning eyes not whipped toward my power.

“Today is not the day for misery,” Alastor said, yanking me back into the room. “Sylvie was her mother’s prodigy and my misery. That is all there is to be shared.”

I felt an unbearable weight of sadness with his words. As he walked toward the door, I realized it was Sylvie’s sadness I was feeling. She might’ve been cruel, and clearly a little mad, but she still loved her father.

“You get him to take you to the Forgotten. Get him to bring my Ever back to me, and I will grant you your freedom, Huntress.”

My Remnants crept back into the room as the man with vibrant green eyes turned back to me, a half-hidden smile on his face. “I should have never tried to bargain with the Keeper when the one in true control was already mine.”

I lifted a shoulder, letting my head tilt a little too far. “What’s one more betrayal between lovers?”

The look in Alastor’s eyes told me I was finally becoming everything he’d planned. And I would let him believe that lie until the very end if I needed to.