Page 46

CHAPTER

FORTY-FIVE

Renwick

Hours Earlier

I nodded at Talron. His scarred face and mismatched eyes made my blood run cold every time I saw them. I gave a silent prayer to the fates of this world he would find some peace after all this time. We had been friends, brothers of sorts, before time was made—he and countless others had been ripped from us and spread throughout different worlds. It was always a comfort to see him during my resurrections and the god he had become.

Oralia stepped into the darkness before me, her hand wrapped around mine tight enough I wondered if we would ever be parted. But I gave it a squeeze as I followed her into the dark.

Suddenly, she was gone.

“Oralia?” I called, but she did not answer.

I stepped forward, or perhaps I did not. It was difficult to tell, swallowed as I was by the dark. My body was not my body. There was no extension of my consciousness outside of the mere thought that I was alone. Alone as I had been for millennia, though surrounded by others—now I knew the true meaning of the word.

But there, in the dark, there was a burst of silver magic, the thread leading me home to her . It rippled out before me, widening into a path beneath my feet, illuminating a way out of this nothingness. With each step I took, my magic greeted me, rushing up my spine and settling in my chest.

I took a deep breath.

Then another.

Only to find my chest expanding in an unfamiliar way. My muscles ached, my lungs burned, the scent of mist and ash flooded my senses. I shivered, and the movement rustled fabric around my middle. A hand covered my shoulder, shaking me, and with a gasp, I wrenched myself upright, blinking in the bright light.

“Ren,” a familiar voice rasped. “ Ren .”

I scrambled against his grip, shaking my head to try to clear it. At my back, my muscles screamed in protest, and I groaned.

“Steady, brother. Take a breath,” Thorne rumbled.

A breath. My head spun as the room came into focus. Thorne’s eyes were rimmed in red, his cheeks ruddy to the point of matching his auburn beard. Behind him, Sidero wore a similar expression of grief, their hands clasped tightly around themselves before they rushed forward.

The muscles in my back twitched again, and I froze.

“ Great Mothers… ” I cursed, turning to look behind me. “She did it.”

My wings were tucked in tight to my sides, though they flared as I turned. Unlike in the in-between, here, my back protested their weight, despite the cloak I had worn for centuries to keep it strong. It had been nothing to the actual weight of my wings, and with each breath, the muscles spasmed and protested.

Oralia had done this. I scented her magic clinging to them as they flared, clinging to me . Our power was now so completely intertwined I could barely distinguish between what was hers and what was mine. I pressed a hand to my chest, breathing in once more, searching for what might be lost now. Was it my compassion? Or perhaps my love?

But the more I searched, the more I found myself whole.

Voices murmured outside the door, a mix I could not quite place. I frowned, twisting my legs off the marble table.

“Take it slow,” Thorne warned, keeping his grip on my upper arm.

I nodded. “Who is here?”

Thorne’s chuckle reminded me of thunder rumbling. “You will not believe it until you lay eyes on them. Oralia outdid herself.”

As I looked around the room, my brows pulled together, and something like fear sparked deep in my chest. “Where is she?”

She should be here. It should have been Oralia at my side when I woke, not Thorne.

His face fell, and behind me, Sidero gave a groan of pain. When I turned to look at them, their eyes were trained on the marble slab, lips turned down at the edges.

“Where is my wife?”

Thorne pressed clothing into my hands, but I paid him no attention as I slid on the trousers, unsteadily standing upright to do up the placket. I stared at the soul who was more than merely my most trusted spy within this kingdom. They took a deep breath, their wide chest trembling with the movement.

“She is gone, Your Grace. Mecrucio, Aelestor, and Oralia returned to Aethera to get your wings, and though your wings have returned…” they trailed off, apology clear in their eyes when they looked up at me.

“She has not,” I finished for them.

“I tried to stop them, Ren. I told her to have patience, but—”

I raised a hand to silence them. “But she had none. I do not blame you, Sidero. Oralia is queen of this land. She does as she wishes.”

Oralia was gone. I reached for the connection between us, the soul bond stronger than ever before. She was there on the other end, I could sense it, and I tugged in hopes she might use it to find her way home. Fear slid down the bond, mixed with pain so great I leaned into Thorne’s hold, gasping for breath.

“She has been alone with her pain for much too long,” Thorne added.

The door burst open. Of all the gods I expected to see, I had not anticipated Harleena, the God of Time, to enter first.

Her eyes were wild as she looked me over, hands outstretched to wrap around my elbows. “She has been captured, Ren.”

I had so many questions, especially as Gunthar and Cato strode in after her, followed by countless other timeless gods I’d never thought to see again. Kahliya, my mother’s closest friend, gazed at me with shining eyes, while Felix’s wings flared in greeting as they bowed. It was as if this were any other day—as if they had been gone to explore the human settlements or giant encampments and not holed away for millennia.

Kaemon strode in last, arm linked with Caston’s, though Caston shook him off at once, striding forward with all the air of a general. I blinked, realizing a beat too late he was clad in Infernis armor, down to the starburst sigil at his shoulder signaling his rank.

No, all I could think was that Oralia was captured. All I could focus on was the pain rippling through the bond, the fear, and—strangely—the humor briefly flaring through it. Dimitri and Drystan followed behind Caston, their attention fixed on me: soldiers ready for their king’s bidding.

“Tell me what you know.”

It was simple, really, once the pieces were explained, to understand who it was Typhon had promised Infernis to. Mecrucio had always been cunning, keeping his cards close to his chest. More than once when he had first arrived looking for a purpose, I’d wondered if one day he would turn against me. But that had been centuries ago—so long time had proven his loyalty. Or so I’d thought.

No one knew when Typhon had first offered him the bargain, but he’d been feeding information to the Golden King for centuries, perhaps longer. Yet it was clear he had been planning for any eventuality. He truly was the God of Thieves—as conniving as they come. Typhon did not know everything. Something I was sure should the tide change, Mecrucio would bring to his defense in a heartbeat.

But Mecrucio would not live long enough for that.

“This whole time…” I breathed, looking at Horace.

He nodded, face stricken with grief. I knew there had been something between him and Mecrucio, a sort of repressed longing for one another at least.

“My magic is imprecise, unlike Caston’s,” Horace explained, shaking his head. “I saw the conviction in his heart, the righteousness in his actions, and believed it when he said he was loyal.”

I crossed the space between us to place a hand on his shoulder, wincing as my wings flared. “Do not take this blame on yourself, old friend. We all trusted him.”

His mouth opened, then closed, ruby eyes glazing with regret.

“It was Mecrucio who let the soldier in this winter to steal Oralia away,” Dimitri explained when Horace’s voice failed. “And I believe he has been guiding soldiers through a shallow point in the river ever since.”

There was no weakness in the mist, then. For weeks, Morana and I searched through my magic, attempting to find the failure within the boundary line. But there was no failure—only that Mecrucio was able to shepherd Aetheran soldiers across, shrouding them with the favor I’d given him.

“Where is Morana?” I asked the group, looking for her but coming up empty.

“She and Samarah have gone to visit your mother’s tree,” Belinay answered, her voice as smooth as the water she conjured. Her bright blonde hair was swept back from her face. Beside her, her son Zayne stood, staring at her with a mix of wonder and heartbreak.

I thought I understood the expression when I thought of my mother. A ripple of grief ran through me as I realized I’d been unable to bid her farewell. She had gone off alone to visit her tree within the realm.

“Go to Rathyra and ensure all souls stay within their quarters,” I instructed Sidero. Those within Pyralis, Isthil, and the Tylith would stay sheltered by their boundaries, but I could not risk any who did not wish to fight stumbling on a battle.

Sidero bowed and rushed from the room before I turned back to Dimitri and Drystan.

“Ready the warriors,” I commanded, catching Thorne’s eye as well. “Position them at the edge of the kingdom so we might intercept Typhon and his army before they get too close.”

Drystan’s white eyebrows ticked up in surprise. “You believe he will strike so soon?”

But it was Caston who answered, his voice bitter. “My father has Oralia. He will use such a thing to his advantage before she can turn the tide herself.”

“Go,” I pressed, gesturing toward the door. “I will be with you shortly.”

Dimitri stepped closer. “I believe it wise to wait to be seen, Ren. Allow Typhon to believe you are incapacitated or yet resurrected. It will make him act rashly.”

I remembered all too well his arrogance from the last time his soldiers entered these shores before the mist was made. With a nod, I clapped Dimitri on the shoulder, shaking him once. “You are right, I will do as you say.”

Dimitri gave me a rare smile, gripping my elbow. “It is good to see you again, old friend.”

Though the warmth was there in my chest, it was eaten by the dread sliding through the mating bond. But I managed a smile all the same. “And you.”

The four gods left the room quickly, leaving only the timeless behind. We stared at each other in silence, millennia of hurt heavy between us.

“Has your prison become so boring you wish to witness the wreckage you have wrought firsthand?” I asked coldly, grabbing the old tunic Thorne left on the table, the slits for my wings gaping in my hands.

They all looked similarly abashed, save for Gunthar, who grinned madly. His presence I understood, as bloodthirsty as he was. But the rest? The rest I could not fathom why they were here.

“No,” Cato answered, their face grim, hands steepled before them with their fingers pointed toward the floor. They took a step forward, and my throat ached with long-forgotten grief.

Again, I could not shake the feeling that the last few thousand years had been a dream I’d woken from. They had stayed the same, while I was something unknown to them.

Time had changed me but had not touched them.

“Then why is it you have returned?” I snapped, sliding the tunic over my head and tensing my wings to slide them through the slits.

Gunthar’s grin widened, and they spread their hands wide in front of them as if to receive an offering. For the first time, I caught sight of the weapons strapped to his sides, the long steel-tipped whip and curved swords within their scabbards.

“We are here for the golden prick’s downfall.”

* * *

The world was silent, save for the echoing rumble of soldiers making their way through the mist. I stood toward the back of our battalion, nodding at the souls who occasionally caught my eye before they turned forward once more. The ancient bow I had not used in millennia was light in my hand, kratus arrow nocked and ready.

Caston’s band of warriors spread out before the souls in the perfect formation of Aetheran soldiers. But it was strange to see the heir of the Golden Kingdom outfitted in Infernis black and to catch the scent of bloodlust slipping from his small battalion and know it was not directed toward me.

“Steady,” I murmured as gold glinted in the weak light.

But there was a rustle of astonishment rippling through the crowd before Thorne’s voice boomed through the clearing.

“Traitor!”

Through a gap in the formation, I caught sight of Mecrucio, his skin blanching as he stared upon the consequences of his actions.

“I am here to take what is mine.” My brother’s voice was loud, a gloved hand pushing the traitorous god to the side as if he were merely a boy.

The souls around me froze, indignation shoring up their ranks. Mist curled around their shoulders as if the sentient extension of my magic was preparing each of them for the task ahead.

“No, I do not,” Typhon boomed. “But she does.”

My blood ran cold, wings flicking out as a roar crawled up my throat. Oralia was dragged toward the crowd, her face wan with blood loss, spidery black veins creeping up her neck from the kratus resin and my father’s magic in her system. My mate, my queen. At my roar, gold clashed upon black like a horrible gilded tide. I lifted the bow, string pressed against my cheek.

“A new light dawns upon Infernis, and it begins with the death of your queen.”

My arrow flew. The scent of blood stained the air, but I could only growl when my mate was jerked back, even as she surged forward with hatred in her eyes. And then, as a blade sliced through the air, as her blood spilled down her cheeks, I pushed into the sky.

I landed with a crash before them, and I could only look on my brother, who I had once been desperate to love. Who I had once sheltered from the wrath of our father until Daeymon understood which of us could be molded into his image.

His eyes widened in surprise before he controlled the expression, gripping the heavy sword in one hand and short knife in the other. I tilted my chin up before I withdrew the axe from my baldric, shadows slipping down my arms to slither across the ground. A cruel smile curled my lips.

“All that begins must end.”

I did not rush him as he expected—only held my axe at my side while my shadows slipped over Oralia. Her groan of pain was not audible over the tumult of the fighting around us, but I felt it through the bond, followed by the relief of her magic slowly finding its way back to her as the last of the resin was purged from her blood and her shackles fell to the ground. She would be weak, but she was strong enough to fight and hold her own on this battlefield.

Typhon, however, had eyes only for me. He took a step forward, sword rising into position.

“I am relieved to know you are revived, Brother. It would not have been satisfying to take your lands without taking your life too.”

I chuckled, the sound like ice even to my ears. Behind him, Oralia rose to her feet, taking me in greedily before her attention slipped to Typhon. The soldiers behind her all looked at each other in confusion, holding the dark chains loosely in their hands. They would not want to kill her, not when her power was what Typhon needed to control Infernis.

“Yes, well, there is nothing I love more than dying,” I answered, weighing the axe in my hand.

Behind him, Oralia turned toward the soldiers with a similar cold smile on her cheeks. Her shadows, darker and sharper than I’d ever seen before, flashed out. Blood sprayed from necks, soldiers gasping as their hands flew to their throats, crumpling to the ground before they could even take a breath.

More soldiers barreled toward her, but she crafted her darkness into two deadly blades, swinging them in an arc and taking down two in the next breath. My attention slid back to my brother as he rushed me.

Metal clanged against metal. His sunlight recoiled from my shadows. The memory of our last meeting like this burned in my mind. The boot he’d had pressed to my throat before I’d shoved it off. The burning heat of his magic curled around my shoulders as my shadows wrapped around his arms.

I ducked beneath his blade, ramming his chest with my shoulder to unbalance him, his wings spreading wide to counterbalance his weight. He laughed, leaning forward to strike once more, only to find my axe meeting the blow. I pushed his sword to the left, forcing him to stumble forward.

“You cannot kill me.” Typhon spun with the next breath, his blade catching my thigh.

The pain burst bright across my skin only to die, the kratus resin barely impacting against my strength. My magic ate it away in the next moment, faster than it ever had before. Oralia was at my back, and we were close enough to touch now as she met each new fighter with a dizzying speed. I could make out her panting breaths, the groans as each demigod or human pushed forward, and through the bond, I could feel her despair. Not at their deaths, but at her hunger for more .

Thorne was right. She had been left alone in this pain for too long.

“Of course, I cannot,” I answered Typhon, grabbing his mangled wrist with the next blow and sending his short dagger skittering off to the side as I turned his back to my mate.

He grunted, swinging out with his sword in his other hand, but I twisted, the blade merely skittering across the skin of my throat as my wings balanced me. Oralia’s voice was wind chimes in the dark, the burst of dawn across a never-ending night sky.

“But I can.”