Page 49 of Evermore (The Never Sky #3)

Paesha

T he Vale had changed in the days since my captivity.

Or perhaps I had changed. The shadows that once seemed so ominous now held no power over me, they were merely cousins to the darkness that lived atop my skin.

I let my fingers trail along the vendor stalls as I walked, leaving whispers of power in my wake.

Each touch sent tiny sparks of magic through the trinkets and treasures, making them hum with potential as I marked them.

The black market that had once bustled with life now stood nearly empty, most stalls abandoned, their wares growing dust. But some remained.

The desperate ones. The hungry ones. They watched me with wary eyes as I passed, these dealers in secrets and stolen goods.

I knew their type. I’d been one of them once, before I learned to steal from gods instead of mortals.

Show them , Sylvie purred in my mind. Show them what we’ve become.

My Remnants responded to her voice, swirling around my feet like living smoke, turning the already dim lighting of the underground into something more sinister.

They were mine now, not Alastor’s. Mine to command, mine to unleash.

The door to my room had never been locked, the true prison had been in my mind, and Sylvie was showing me how to break those chains.

I paused at a stall that still bore the markings of the Silk trades, fine fabrics and delicate jewelry that would have cost a Salt’s life’s wages for most. The merchant, a weathered woman with calculating eyes, tensed as I lifted a strand of pearls.

“Beautiful. Did you steal these yourself, or do you work for others?”

She didn’t answer.

“I used to do both,” I continued, letting the necklace slip through my fingers. “But there’s no real challenge in it anymore. Don’t you see? You were so busy watching the pearls, you never saw the rubies I collected.” I dropped the jewels on her table. “Do better, love.”

The whispers followed me as I moved on, rumors and speculation spreading like wildfire through the remaining vendors. Let them talk. Let them wonder what I’d become. What I could do to their fragile resolve.

A figure in dark, familiar robes stood motionless at the intersection of two corridors, his broad shoulders and imposing height marking him as someone not to be reckoned with.

Even without seeing his face, I knew who he was.

Themis. The God of Justice. The one who’d bound the Cimmerians to the prince’s will.

The same prince whose heart I’d pierced with my blade.

I forgot how much he screamed. But I remembered how much he bled.

I smiled as I passed Themis, letting my power brush against his. Let him know that justice meant nothing to someone who’d been wronged by gods. He was silent, hidden beneath the shadows of his cloak, but I felt his gaze follow me down the corridor.

The few remaining merchants drew back as I approached Alastor’s office, some actually scrambling to pack their wares and flee. No knocking, no hesitation, I simply opened the door and walked in.

To my surprise, and utter annoyance, Thorne stood by the desk, his broad shoulders tense as he turned to face me. No Alastor in sight. Dammit.

Gods, he was beautiful. It wasn’t fair that someone could break hearts so easily while looking like salvation.

He was massive, filling the space with his presence in a way that had nothing to do with physical size and everything to do with the power that radiated from him.

Those hazel eyes locked on to mine, and for a moment, just a moment, I remembered how it felt to drown in that gaze.

“Paesha,” he breathed, taking a step forward. His eyes widened slightly as he took in my appearance, the way the Remnants rippled around me, the sharp edge to my smile, no doubt.

“Do you remember the snow?” I asked, trailing my fingers along Alastor’s desk. “How it never melts when gods dream?”

Pain flashed across his beautiful face. “You’re not well.”

“I’ve never been better.” I moved closer, letting him see the shadows that danced in my wake. “I understand everything now. All the pieces are finally clear.”

“Let me help you.”

I wondered if anyone else had noticed how broken he’d become. How hollow his cheeks were.

“Whatever Alastor’s done?—”

I stepped back. “Like you helped me in the garden? Like you helped me on the stage? Which version of help should I trust, Reverius?”

He flinched at the use of his true name. “I never meant?—”

“To hurt me? To lie? To watch me die over and over?” I laughed. “Your intentions mean nothing against the weight of your actions. They never do. Never will.”

Draw him in slowly , Sylvie whispered. Make him earn it.

I moved to stand directly before him, smoothing a hand up his chest, speaking softly.

“I see the way you look at me. Like you’re trying to memorize my face.

Like you’re preparing to lose me again.” I paused, watching understanding dawn in his eyes.

“You’re planning something dangerous. Something final. ”

“Paesha—”

“The Forgotten,” I said, and his slight intake of breath confirmed my suspicion. He was ready. “That’s where you’ll go, isn’t it? To try to save me from Alastor’s binding?”

“I haven’t?—”

“I see more clearly now. The voices show me things. Truths buried in lies. Answers hidden in questions.”

His jaw clenched. “The voices aren’t real.”

“No?” I reached up, trailing my fingers along his jaw. “Then why do they know your secrets? Why do they remember every promise you’ve broken?”

He caught my hand, holding it against his cheek. “I would give anything…”

“Prove it,” I whispered. “No more lies between us. Promise me complete honesty, and I’ll believe in you again.”

“I promise,” he said immediately.

I pulled away. “So eager to swear. Just like in Winter’s garden. Just like every time before.”

“This is different,” he insisted. “This time is different.”

“Then tell me the truth. Are you planning to enter the Forgotten?”

He hesitated, warring with himself. “Yes.”

“Take me with you.”

“No. It’s too dangerous.”

“More dangerous than leaving me here?” I gestured to the Remnants swirling around us. “More dangerous than letting me drown in madness while Alastor twists my mind?”

“Paesha—”

“You said you’d be honest,” I reminded him. “That you’d do things differently. Was that another lie? Tell Alastor you will only go if I can come too. Force him to let me come.”

“I can’t lose you again,” he said, his voice raw.

“Then don’t.” I let my power brush against his. “Let me help you. Trust me, just this once. We go together, or not at all.”

I could see him wavering, see the desperate hope warring with centuries of protective instinct. “The Forgotten could destroy us both.”

“Or it could save us.” I reached for his hand, ignoring the way my heart raced at the contact.

His skin was warm against mine, callused fingers wrapping around my own with gentle strength.

“One last chance, Thorne. One last try at getting it right. Complete honesty. Complete trust. That’s all I ask. ”

Make him believe , Sylvie urged. Make him hope.

“If I lost you in there…” He swallowed hard. “I wouldn’t survive it.”

“You won’t lose me,” I promised, the lie tasting like copper on my tongue. “We’ll face it together. No more secrets. No more lies. Only us, finding our way back to each other while we hunt down what was lost.”

The door opened, and Alastor stepped in. His eyes moved from my hand in Thorne’s to the Remnants that swirled around us both.

“Well,” he said, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Isn’t this interesting?”

“We’re going to the Forgotten,” I said firmly. “Both of us.”

Alastor’s smile widened. “Are you now?”

“Make the bargain,” Thorne demanded. “If we return with Irri from the Forgotten, Paesha’s binding to you ends as does any bargain I’ve ever made with you.”

No Sylvie warned. Make him be specific. Think of the terms.

“Just Irri’s return,” I clarified. “No conditions on who brings her back. No tricks. No games.”

Thorne’s hand tightened on mine. “Agreed.”

“Agreed,” Alastor echoed, and power crackled through the air as the bargain took hold.

I looked up at Thorne, and for a moment, just a moment, I let myself remember how it felt to trust him.

To maybe love him. His fingers intertwined with mine, and electricity shot through my veins, making my knees weak.

A flicker of heat warmed me at his touch, a reminder of everything we could have been if not for lies and games and ancient prophecies.

Focus , Sylvie commanded. Remember why we’re here.

I squeezed his hand, pushing away the ache in my chest. This wasn’t about love or trust or redemption. This was about freedom. About vengeance.

Thorne pulled me through the office, eager to escape Alastor’s domain, no doubt.

But before we could flee, the door exploded inward.

The robed figure from the hall filled the frame, bow drawn and aimed at my heart.

As he released the arrow, his hood fell back, revealing Ezra’s coldly beautiful face.

Ezra. Not Themis but Ezra. The murderer.

Time slowed. I could see the arrow’s fletching, dark as night against the shaft, could trace its path through the air with perfect clarity.

“No!” Thorne’s roar shook the walls as he moved to shield me.

But the arrow never reached either of us. Alastor’s Remnants snatched it from the air only inches from Thorne’s back, crushing it to dust. The rage emanating from the God of Lost things was a physical thing, turning the air thick and heavy.

Alastor’s voice held centuries of fury as his shadows surged forward, engulfing Ezra in writhing darkness. “You dare come into my domain and threaten what’s mine?”

Ezra struggled against the Remnants, his own power flaring gold against the darkness. “You’re a fool if you think?—”

“Run!” Alastor commanded, never taking his eyes off Ezra. “Both of you, get out. Now!”

Thorne grabbed my arm, but then suddenly went rigid. His eyes flashed brilliant gold, distant and unseeing, as if caught in a vision. The moment stretched, endless and terrible, before he snapped back to himself with a sharp intake of breath.

Without a word, he yanked me toward the door. Behind us, the sounds of clashing power shook the foundations of the Vale. Dust fell from the ceiling as the floor rumbled. Ezra’s shout of rage followed us down the corridor, but Thorne didn’t slow, didn’t look back.

He ran, pulling me with him, toward whatever fate awaited us in the Forgotten.