Page 74 of House of Dusk

SEPHRE

T he water shimmered under Sephre’s fingertips. Not the bright leap of flame, but a silvery gleam, like starlight. Beautiful. And deadly.

But not to her.

She sat cross-legged at the edge of the pool, one hand drifting just above the surface.

Reveling in the cool shiver that echoed in her own flesh.

It was quiet here now, in the center of the labyrinth.

No doubt there were other spirits, wandering the maze of their own past sorrows.

And other skotoi, lurking in wait for them.

Maybe that was where the Serpent had gone.

Sephre had only a dim memory of him leaving, promising to return shortly from whatever serpent-godly business called him away.

She supposed he had three centuries to catch up on.

For his sake, she hoped very much that there were no account ledgers in the underworld.

She could see Timeus, over across the bridge, standing beside the flame.

He was attempting to send a firespeaking to Stara Bron.

What would Beroe think, she wondered, hearing Timeus’s voice speaking from the heart of the flame, warning her that Lacheron was going to try to kill the Phoenix?

Would she believe him? Or would she dismiss it as more corruption?

And what about the rest of them? Abas. Dolon. Vasil. She hoped they would understand her choice. That they would still love her. She thought of Dolon, telling her about how it was before the cataclysm. A balewalker, stopping by to take tea. She’d like that. Very much.

When she first stepped out from the waters of the Lyrikon, she’d braced herself for Timeus’s disappointment. That he would look at her, and see her failure, her broken vows. Or worse, think that she was abandoning him, turning her back on the ashdancers.

But instead he surged forward—actually pushed past the Serpent to embrace her and congratulate her—and something broke inside Sephre.

A wall she hadn’t even realized was still there.

She had hugged him back, all the gangly, living, joyful bulk of him, and wept.

There was no judgment, no censure. Timeus was simply happy for her.

She would never regret her time as an ashdancer. Her garden was a joy, a sanctuary that had guarded her in her most fragile hours. She loved her siblings. And siblings they would remain. Her chosen family, whether or not her veins burned with flame.

Sephre tapped her forefinger to the water.

Watched the ripples spreading. Like the sureness of her own choice, rippling through her flesh.

But much as she loved the people of Stara Bron—well, most of them—the faith had never quite suited her.

Or maybe she hadn’t suited the faith. It turned her inward.

Focused her on her own flaws, her shames, her past. Held her fixed in place, when she needed to grow and change.

Not that everything was suddenly sweet wine and roses, now she was a balewalker. Sephre doubted whether she would ever feel the sort of peace she once aspired to. But for the first time in a long while she felt...whole.

She heard his footsteps approaching. No doubt he meant her to. He was a god, after all. He could probably float, if he wanted. She uncoiled her legs, wincing at the prick of invisible needles along her skin. Stood, drew a bracing breath, then turned to face him.

It wasn’t enough. Her world spun at the sight of the man who stood there in his slippery dark robes and his stolen human face.

Maybe he thought it would be less frightening for her.

She would almost have preferred the fangs.

Then, perhaps, she could forget the kiss. Fates, get your head turned straight.

She wondered if she should salute. Or kiss his hand?

No, definitely not. But she had to do something more than stand there, staring at him like a stubborn goat.

She was his priestess. Or something like that.

She belongs to the House of Dusk now. That’s what he had said, as he pulled her from the waters of death.

She flexed her fingers, then tucked her hands behind her and settled on a simple bow.

“That’s not necessary.” His expression was exactly like the one Nilos had made when she’d insisted on cooking breakfast, their final morning before reaching Stara Sidea.

“You’re a god,” she told him. “I don’t want to get smited for a lack of proper respect.”

He looked pained. “There are things you should know,” he said, apparently deciding to ignore the topic entirely.

Many things. But not all of them as urgent as others. “Like what exactly Lacheron is planning?” she suggested. “And how we’re going to stop it?”

“Yes. But first, these are for you.” He produced a folded pile of cloth, as if from thin air, and held it out to her.

Sephre regarded the bundle warily. It looked like clothing. On top lay a pair of dark blue gloves. “You have a wardrobe in the underworld?”

“You’d be surprised.” He flashed her Nilos’s quick smile, and her heart gave a foolish wobble. “The balewalkers kept a number of outposts within the labyrinth. I found this in one of them. It’s...”

“A balewalker habit,” she finished, understanding. It was very like the robes she’d worn at Stara Bron. But more blue than gray, with rippling green lines embroidered along the hem and sleeves. She arched her brows at the gloves, though. “Is it...especially cold at Stara Sidea?”

Another stolen smile. “No. The gloves serve a different purpose. You carry the waters of the Lyrikon in your flesh now. My waters.” He hesitated a moment, and she thought there might have been a faint flush darkening his cheeks. “Venom. Deadly to the living. And to the skotoi as well.”

“You’re saying I’m poisonous?” Sephre lifted her hands, turning them, taking note of the shimmer she’d been admiring earlier.

“You can learn to control it,” he said. “As you did your flames. But for now...” He held out the bundle, as if to press it into her hands.

She started to flinch away. Then caught herself, remembering who he was. “I can’t harm you.”

He regarded her for a long moment. “The poison won’t affect me. Nor any other mortal sworn to one of my siblings.”

Thank the Fates for small mercies. She thought of Timeus, surging into her with that warm embrace. Still, it would take some getting used to. “What about plants?” she asked, with a flare of panic. “Can I still garden?”

“Yes.” He sounded amused. “Your prized hibiscus is safe.”

She cut her gaze to him, startled. He remembered? Was it only that he had Nilos’s memories? Or was the mortal man still there, somewhere?

She had the distinct impression he had surprised himself as much as her. And for a moment his eyes were the eyes of a man, eyes that watched the world fade, that valued each sunrise.

“Nilos?” The word came out a whisper, afraid of startling this hope, sending it galloping away with her heart.

Then a quick drum of footsteps turned them both toward the bridge. Brother Timeus was jogging back toward the shore, his expression animated.

“I reached Brother Dolon!” he proclaimed triumphantly.

“He said it was good luck that he happened to trade duty for the dusk vigil with Sister Polia, because Sister Polia always falls asleep, and so she never would have heard the firespeaking. But he heard me and he came and I told him everything that’s happened.

He wishes you well, sister, in your new office, and, er—” the boy ducked his head shyly to the Serpent”—he congratulates you on your return, Lord Serpent.

And then he told me all the news from Stara Bron! ”

“Which is?” Sephre prompted, as the boy finally paused to take a breath.

“Agia Beroe left the temple four days ago,” said Timeus. “She’s agreed to perform the Blue Summons for the king. To call on the Phoenix to restore the Faithful Maiden to life.”

“It isn’t her,” said Sephre. “The bones, they belong to someone else.”

“Oh,” Timeus blinked at her. “How do you know?”

“I had...a vision.” Sephre could feel the Serpent watching her. It made her skin prickle, and a part of her wanted to ask if he had already known that. “When will Beroe do it?” she asked Timeus, instead.

“Tomorrow. She’ll likely be at the palace by now.”

Sephre rocked back on her heels, cast her eyes up to the iron gray sky, and muttered a curse. “There’s no way we’ll reach them in time. Even if we go back to Stara Sidea, it’s still at least a day’s travel to Helissa City. If we steal horses, and ride them bloody.”

She turned on the Serpent. “But we have to stop him. Lacheron has the god-killing blade, and now he has Beroe, and an excuse to summon the Phoenix. Everything he needs to slay a second god.”

“Yes.” His green eyes searched the middle distance for a long moment. “And break the second seal that binds my eldest brother.”

Timeus blinked. “The Sphinx?”

“No, the Sphinx is my sibling, not my brother. And while they’ve caused their fair share of trouble, they have no cause to destroy this world.

” The Serpent smiled briefly, then began to pace.

“Unlike our eldest brother, who has no name. My siblings and I took it from him, when we cast him into the abyss.”

He halted beside the glimmering pool, staring across the still waters. “Each of us gave a piece of our own power to seal him there. But mine was broken, when I died. And if my sister dies, hers will shatter as well.”

“Leaving just two,” said Sephre. “Is that enough to keep the First Power bound?”

“I don’t know. But with every broken seal his power will grow. When the first seal broke, he tore down mountains and sank islands. Shattered the old empire. With the second...” He shook his head. “There will be...many dead spirits.”

She sucked in a breath of dismay. “And no Phoenix to grant them new life.”

“You came back, Lord Serpent,” said Timeus. “She might, too.”

Sephre shook her head. “We don’t have three centuries.”