Page 91 of Evermore (The Never Sky #3)

Thorne

T he tear was exactly where it had always been, a jagged gash in reality that rippled like cloth in a wind that didn’t exist. I didn’t hesitate, didn’t pause to consider what awaited me on the other side. I stepped through, feeling my body tear apart and reform in the space of a single heartbeat.

The Fates’ void stretched before me, endless and all consuming.

Raw potential crackled through the air, each spark a future struggling to be born.

But something was wrong. Where before the void had been filled with the presence of the Fates, their voices echoing through my bones, their power pressing against my skin, now there was only silence.

A maddening, oppressive quiet that scraped against my nerves like fingernails on glass.

“I know you’re here. Show yourselves!”

Nothing. Not even an echo.

I moved deeper in, boots scraping against something that wasn’t quite floor. Occasionally, a thin thread of fate drifted past, glowing with the promise it represented. But no voices rose to challenge me. No beings emerged from the darkness.

I could hear the loom, though. The soft, rhythmic creaking of ancient wood bearing the weight of all destinies. The sound was maddening in its constancy, a reminder of their presence despite their refusal to appear.

“We had a bargain!” I shouted into the darkness, fury rising like bile in my throat. “Archer Bramwell sits upon the throne of Stirling! His blood mingles with the ancient power of that seat! You swore you would hear me when that came to pass!”

The silence that followed felt deliberate, mocking. I could almost feel their amusement at my desperation, could practically taste their satisfaction at forcing me to beg. But I would beg for her. For her sanity. Her control.

“Answer me, damn you!”

Still nothing.

My patience, already worn thin, snapped completely.

I reached out and grabbed the nearest thread of fate, feeling it hum with life between my fingers.

Without hesitation, I snapped it. The sound echoed, not the physical breaking of the thread, but the scream that accompanied it.

A thousand voices cried out at once, their anguish reverberating through the void.

“You think I won’t do worse?” I snarled, reaching for another. “You think I don’t have it in me to tear your precious weaving apart strand by strand?”

I broke another thread, then another, each snap sending shockwaves through the void. Power surged from me in violent waves, warping the space around me.

“We had a fucking deal! A queen sits on the throne beside him, a queen driven to madness by voices you could silence with a word! Weave a change in her fate, dammit.” The words burned like embers on my tongue, but I forced them out. “I fulfilled my end of the bargain. Now fulfill yours!”

The loom’s rhythm never faltered, never changed.

They were ignoring me. Deliberately. Callously.

They’d never promised to help, only hear me.

And now they had. Undoubtedly. I twisted the drifting threads around my fist, watching them wither and blacken at my touch.

“You were so desperate to crown Archer Bramwell, did you consider the mad queen? Did you know? She hears voices. She sees people. She will surely bring that realm to ruin, if you don’t help her. ”

I would do anything in my power to keep that from happening because the guilt of that would ruin her, but there were words that held power here. Truths that were stronger than the lies. Still they said fucking nothing.

“Cowards,” I spat, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “You hide behind your loom, binding the fates of gods and mortals alike, but you don’t have the courage to face me.”

I released the withered threads, watching them drift away like ash on a breeze. A terrible idea began to take shape in my mind as I observed how they curled and darkened at my touch.

I didn’t need to break the threads to damage them. I didn’t need to end lives to alter destinies.

My fingers brushed against another thread, and it wilted instantly, turning from vibrant gold to dull black. The life it represented wouldn’t end, but it would change, warp in ways even the Fates might not predict.

“I will return,” I promised the silence, letting my power flare one final time.

“And when I do, you will listen. Or I will end every thread you’ve ever woven.

I will wilt the tapestry of fate until it rots at the foundation of your loom.

You thought being bound to it was terrible? Wait until I fucking destroy you.”

“You do not have that power, Keeper,” they hissed, finally breaking their silence.

I turned back toward the tear, each step measured and deliberate. They wouldn’t help me. Not today, perhaps not ever. But I no longer needed their permission. As I returned to the fading twilight of Etherium, I felt something shift within me. A final barrier breaking. A last restraint snapping.

The Fates had made their choice.

Now I would make mine.

The air in Death’s Court carried the peculiar static of power that existed nowhere else, not quite living nor fully dead.

Perpetual night shrouded the landscape, illuminated by twin moons that hung impossibly close in the sky.

Their pale light cast everything in silvery blue shadows, giving the elaborate grounds an almost dreamlike quality.

As I walked toward the castle, I considered the people I might find here.

A tiny ache in my heart hoped to see Harlow, but as I walked, I never saw another soul.

And truthfully, that was probably for the best. If this plan was going to work, it needed to be done as swiftly as possible.

The Fates could have no time to see what was coming. Or who, rather.

As if he’d been waiting for me, I found Death sitting atop a throne of skulls, thrumming his fingers along the arms of his seat as if impatient. But when I moved closer I realized his eyes were closed and those fingers tapped a perfect rhythm. He was conducting music in his mind.

I cleared my throat, but he didn’t startle.

Only held up a finger and continued through whatever his mind was trying to work out.

Aside from the fist clenched at my side, I didn’t bother to rush him.

I needed him to do something reckless and that wouldn’t happen if I commanded him.

For cautionary reasons, I took my twin brother’s face from his memories.

“Who are you?” he finally asked, stepping from his dark throne to look me in the eyes rather than down upon me.

“My name is Reverius Hawthorne Noctus. We’ve met before,” I answered, using my power to shine so bright in this dark realm, he had to shield his eyes.

“Keeper?”

“Yes. And I don’t have time for formalities. I know Paesha Vox was… is your friend and she needs help.”

He took several rushed steps toward me. “You found her?”

“I never lost her.”

And then I explained everything as quickly as I could.

From her being my Ever, to the deal in Stirling.

I told him of Ezra’s role in her history and of mine.

And then I told him of the veil and every shit thing I’d done to save her.

And how she’d married a king to save a realm and mostly, I told him of her madness.

Of how desperately she needed help. And he listened.

His dark eyes were not quick to dismiss me.

Instead, he ran a hand through his hair and looked away.

“I stabbed my wife once,” he finally said. “So, I’ll do my best not to punch you in the face for fucking with my sister, deal?”

It didn’t surprise me to find yet another soul she’d gathered like family. “I try not to bargain these days.”

“Probably for the best. But I do love Paesha and I’ll do what she needs me to. Name it and it’s done.”

“First, you must know, I’ll have to take your memories. You can’t know the path to Etherium. Death isn’t meant to dwell in an immortal land. That’s the divine law and the one we’re about to break. Can you handle that?”

“I’ll manage,” Death said dryly. “But what am I doing when we get there?”

“You occupy a unique position. Death is essential to the balance they maintain. They cannot harm you without disrupting the fabric of existence. Your presence alone will force them to listen.”

“So I’m to be your bargaining chip?” There was no offense in his tone, merely curiosity.

“More like my final option,” I replied. “If they refuse to help even with Death standing witness, then everything is fucked anyway… She doesn’t have a moment’s peace.

Nor a single night of complete rest. She sits upon a throne before a class of people that would stone her to death before they accepted a mad queen. And she knows it.”

I hated the tone. The begging in my voice, but if I needed to fall to my fucking knees before Death to save her, I would.

It wasn’t needed though. Not as the man’s eyes shifted between mine as he nodded.

“Whatever she needs, I will become it, but perhaps you could answer something for me in exchange.”

I slid my hands into my pockets to hide my relief. “Name it.”

“My wife. She snuck into this court without dying. Will she age eternally? Will she die and become a soul if she stays here?”

“She won’t age. This court isn’t a realm with time passing. It’s simply the After. The space where things come to exist, but not change. Should she wish to age, she could always return to Requiem, but if she wishes to stay, she will… remain. As she is.”

Death’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “Thank you for that.”

“We need to move. The Fates see patterns and possibilities. They’ll know what’s coming if we linger.”

Death nodded, dark hair falling across his brow. “What exactly do you need from them? What change must they make?”

“They have the power to affect change in her, to alter the threads of her fate. The voices, the visions… They could end them with a single adjustment to her thread.” My voice cracked.

“If they would simply change her fate, she would be okay. They’ll be furious about this intrusion.

They may demand payment, likely that I stay away from her forever.

And I will agree. I will do whatever they ask if it means she finds peace. ”

Death studied me for a long moment, his gaze measuring. “You truly love her.”

It wasn’t a question, but I answered anyway. “More than existence.”

“Then I’m with you.” He straightened his shoulders, power rippling around him like a cloak. “Paesha matters to me too.”

We moved toward the door, each step deliberate and purposeful. I was already considering how to open the tear, how to navigate the void with Death in tow, when the great doors swung open.

A woman stood there, casually twirling a dagger between her fingers.

Her green eyes, sharp and calculating, took us both in with a single glance.

A massive hellhound loomed behind her, its shoulders higher than hers, red eyes glowing like embers in the darkness.

The beast’s breath came in low growls that vibrated the air.

“Going somewhere interesting?” she asked, her voice deceptively light as the dagger continued its perfect rotation.

Death moved forward, his posture softening. “Easy, Nightmare,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss her briefly. His hand brushed her cheek with surprising tenderness. “There’s an emergency. Paesha needs help.”

Her eyes narrowed, the dagger stilling. “What kind of emergency?”

“The kind that requires immediate action,” I cut in, aware of each second slipping away. “I’m sorry, but we don’t have time?—”

“This is Reverius,” Death said, gesturing toward me. “An old… associate of Paesha’s. And this,” he said to me, “is my wife, Deyanira.”

We’d met, but she didn’t need to know that right now. There was something dangerous in her stillness, in the careful way she assessed me. The hellhound mirrored her, its massive head tilting slightly.

“I don’t have time to explain.”

Deyanira’s fingers tightened around the dagger’s hilt. “Then I’m coming too.”

“You can’t,” I said, perhaps too quickly.

Her eyes flashed. “I don’t recall asking your permission.”

“It’s not about permission,” Death said gently. “Where we’re going, it’s not a place for the living, or me, technically. It’s complicated. I’ll explain everything when I return, I promise.”

For a moment, I thought she might argue further, but something in Death’s expression seemed to reach her. She stepped back, the hellhound moving with her like a shadow.

Her gaze shifted to me. “You’d better bring him back exactly as he is.”

“You have my word,” I replied.

She laughed, a sound without humor. “I have no fucking clue who you are so that doesn’t mean shit to me.”

We moved past her, the hellhound growling low as I passed. I could feel Deyanira’s eyes on my back, calculating and cold.

“We need to move quickly. The tear will only stay open for moments once we’re through. Stay close to me.”

Death nodded, his expression solemn.

After sending a tendril of magic behind me, stealing Deyanira’s memories, I reached out, feeling for the thin places between realms, for the jagged edges where reality could be torn.

My power surged, golden threads of creation weaving through my fingers as I tore it open.

The void beckoned, dark and infinite. I glanced at Death one last time and together, we stepped through the tear, into darkness that swallowed us whole.