Page 15

CHAPTER

FOURTEEN

Oralia

A buzzing filled the air.

My fingers flexed, covered in dark blood. They looked like the hands of the scarred god. Gore dripped from my chin onto my chest, and I stared unseeing through the tall window out into the thick mist clinging to the grounds of our kingdom. The air skittered through my lungs as I breathed, the buzzing in the air settling in my chest with each beating of my heart, a strange echo of it in my ears.

No, not an echo.

His heart beat alongside my own.

This was more tangible than it had been within the soul bond. And when I followed the line of the connection within my power, it spiderwebbed out in many different directions, bright silver paths I hoped would lead me to him.

“I will find you,” I said into the dark. “I will make this right.”

I did not know how long I sat there, relishing the feel of his magic skittering through my veins. But I savored the growing bond between us, even as I mourned the one lonely thread I could not follow fading into nothingness. Eventually, my head fell onto his pillow, and I turned, breathing in the scent of him and allowing myself a moment to imagine Ren was here. He had only stepped away but would soon return to drag me into his arms and bury his face in my hair.

Eshara, I am yours, he would say.

As I fell into a fitful sleep, it was not only blood staining his pillow, not merely the gore coating my lips, but the grief I could no longer contain.

* * *

The souls assembled had not needed anything other than a witness to their evolution. I had not needed to say a word or touch them. Instead, as one, they bowed their heads, hands pressed over their hearts, and melted into white balls of light—giving in to their magic and its need to return to the world. Their power had been so bright I’d shielded my eyes against the glare as they shot into the sky, leaving streaks of darkness in their wake.

Magical reincarnation was different in our world depending on who the soul was. Humans contained little magic, and therefore, their souls needed a place to rest before they could give themselves back to the earth to begin again. Demigods were much the same though, their magic was a little stronger. When they died, any true power they had returned to the earth to start again in someone new while their human souls lingered in Infernis. Gods, however, were fully magical—it ran through our blood, it was what made up our souls. When we died, no hint of our consciousness remained when our magic returned to the earth to start again in someone else. There was nothing to shepherd into Infernis or beyond.

The entirety of the ascension ritual was conducted in silence. Bright white streams of light burst into the sky, leaving in its wake a sort of calm which could not touch me. Horace and I stood for a long moment, observing the space where the souls had once been before I found my courage.

“I believe there is a way to find him.”

Horace turned toward me slowly, those bright red eyes assessing. When I did not continue, he dipped his chin. “I am listening.”

“There is a new… connection between us,” I began carefully, eyes trained to the bare space of grass. “A connection that splits out in seven directions like silver threads I might follow.”

The faint beating of Ren’s heart in my chest intensified for a moment as if confirming the truth of my words. On my tongue lay the memory of the taste of his blood, the feeling of his power growing inside.

He frowned. “How was this connection forged?”

“I took his heart within myself,” I whispered hoarsely.

With wide eyes, I turned to face Horace, expecting the same wild fear to be reflected in his gaze. But he only nodded solemnly, running a hand down his face before resting it over his chest.

“I have seen many things in my existence, Oralia. I have seen the creation of time, witnessed the first death of this world. My soul is outside of this reality. It is why you can touch me and Morana with your bare hands and we do not die. My body does not adhere to the laws of this realm as yours does.” He leaned down until we were eye to eye. “And neither does Ren’s. I trust in your power, I trust in your magic, and most importantly, I trust in the bond you forged with him.”

My throat clicked with a swallow, and I blinked rapidly to clear the haze of my vision. One of his heavy hands closed over my shoulder, squeezing gently.

“You must prepare yourself that more facets of your magic will begin to appear. Not only from the training you have done with Ren and Morana but from this new bond.”

“More facets of my magic…” I repeated, tangling my fingers together.

He hummed. “You possess more than merely life and death, Oralia, and I can sense your magic waking even now. More than likely it will feel much like you are once again going through prime. We must prepare for when your new magic arrives.”

Stars. My prime had come so long ago. I barely remembered those years when my magic had fully manifested. It was a volatile time for gods when emotions ran high and their power might burst from them without warning. To go through it again now with powers I could not fathom…

“It is not a guarantee,” he murmured. “But for now, you have forged a way forward. We have much to do, and if Typhon is intent on your death, we must do what we can to keep you safe through this next journey.”

I nodded and, without another word, drew the shadows around us to meet the rest of the inner circle at the steps of the palace.

* * *

I could not blame Aelestor for his incredulity even if I lacked the patience for it.

Drystan was busy strapping daggers to every available part of his body within the leathers and baldric Dimitri had lent him. He had already done the same for me. The dagger Ren gifted me was heavy at my hip. Others were strapped to my thigh and beneath the sleeves of my tunic. I’d left behind the gowns and dresses in favor of fighting leathers, complete with a black cloak and cowl that could cover my face. My hands were covered in the soft black gloves Sidero had made before I ever left Infernis if I learned I could not pull back the power of death from my hands.

Now, we would be traveling into a part of the world where a single touch could destroy everything. I would not risk such a thing, nor be the cause of such suffering.

“You will be quick.” It was not a question as Dimitri checked over the pack Drystan carried before handing another to Aelestor.

“I do not know,” Thorne rumbled. “I hear Severa is lovely this time of year. Perhaps our queen would like a bit of sightseeing.”

The towering god winked at me, and though I found I could not form a smile, I did my best to give him a sound of acknowledgment. Thorne had already sat the three of us down this morning before the ascension to discuss what would happen in the event we were attacked, but the reality was once we left the kingdom, we were on our own. If I was incapacitated or killed, it meant more than Aelestor and Drystan having a long journey home.

Who knew what range Typhon’s weapon had.

We would travel to the closest string first, hopefully retrieve the piece of Ren without issue, and return to Infernis, where Thorne would hold on to it for safekeeping before moving to the next. Over and over until we had all the pieces of him. I tried not to think of the fact that now I held one part of him inside myself—the most vital part—and what it meant for his resurrection.

“Are you both ready?” I asked, beckoning Aelestor closer.

Drystan’s yes was soft while his gloved hand closed over my arm.

Aelestor’s mouth was set into a firm line, one hand closing over mine while the other gripped the pommel of his sword. “I have already given my goodbyes to Josette.”

I nodded, taking one last look at Horace, Thorne, and Sidero, the last of whom gave me a small, confident smile.

“Do not rush,” they encouraged. “Keep your heads down and your eyes open.”

Dimitri huffed his agreement, the corners of his eyes tight with worry. The three of us nodded our understanding before I took a deep breath. I could do this. I had to—there was no other choice. So I closed my eyes, reaching out for the strange silver thread, plucking at the one closest. I did not need to open my eyes to know shadows had blossomed over my shoulders, slithering out across my chest to wind around the two men beside me. Drystan tensed, but he did not speak as I focused on our destination, gritting my teeth with determination before I stepped through the shadows.

Bright sunlight bled across my lids before I blinked. A rolling field of green lay before me, dotted with flowers and trees, some of which I recognized from their silver branches and black leaves as kratus. The scent of cooking meat was heavy in the air, mixed with smoke and the stench of humans. Aelestor was the first to release, spinning with precision and half-drawing his sword. Drystan followed, flanking my other side.

The human settlement behind us reminded me a bit of Rathyra, our own city of souls, with its cramped houses and narrow walkways. We were right at the edge of the town, nestled beside what appeared to be a well, the scent of fresh water bright against the other thicker scents.

“What now, Oralia?” Drystan breathed.

Humans meandered farther off through what appeared to be a busier street. Gripping the edges of my cowl, I drew it over my head. The two of them followed suit.

“Now we find our king.”