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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

T here was something insulting about waking up face-down in the dirt. At least there was some moss mixed in with it. Ava pushed up onto her hands and knees as she picked bits of tiny rocks and sticky blue-green moss from her face. “Plehk ? —”

Eldritch void deities really had to work on their manners.

“Would it kill any of you, seriously, to just—I don’t know, drop by and say hello?

Just once? Do you all have to be so damn melodramatic all the time?

” She sat back on her heels and ran her hand back over her curls, trying to get them to behave. It was always a losing battle.

Blinking, she let out a quiet “huh.” She wasn’t where she was expecting to be.

Okay, she didn’t know where she expected to be.

Maybe a field of blood? Some Hellraiser- worthy nightmare realm of screaming bodies on hooks, rotating on chains or hanging from spikes on walls.

Something that would be worthy of a cosmic horror monster dwelling inside the Unseelie King bent on razing entire worlds to the ground.

Not…this.

Climbing to her feet, she stared in awe at the sight before her.

She was inside of a ring of ancient stones, all towering above her, some thirty feet tall.

The monolithic, ancient slabs were weathered smooth by wind and rain.

They might have once had shapes carved upon them, but whatever they once depicted were long worn away.

The full moon overhead cast sharp shadows against the mossy ground, making the huge stones all the more imposing.

She could see another ring of them set just outside the first, and beyond that, a thick forest.

In the center of the circle was a crude altar—a single flat rock held up by two smaller ones. She could see objects on top of it, but she wasn’t sure what they were at first. Curious, she stepped forward.

Placing her hand to her hip where she had been wearing Book, she wasn’t surprised to find it missing. Namely, because it was on top of the altar as one of the objects. Lying there, open in the center, its pages blank.

And to the right and left of it, a mirrored shard.

It was either a riddle or a reminder.

She shook her head. “I’m warning you, I’m shit at puzzle levels.

I’m the kind of person who tries for like…

two minutes, and then I have to pause it and look up a guide online.

” She chewed her lip. “You either are trying to tell me that these things are all connected, or that I need all of them to…do what exactly? Become the Web? Kill Serrik? Kill Valroy? Kill them both? Kill myself? Kill the fae? Kill the humans? What the fuck do you want from me?” Now she was getting angry.

“Give me a straight answer for fucking once , will you?”

When a bird loudly cawed from behind her, she nearly jumped out of her skin.

“Holy f—” Whirling, she looked up. And saw she was no longer alone.

Well. Not exactly. She took a step back, closer to the altar.

Because she had just gone straight into a scene from The Birds.

Surrounding her, atop every single stone, were perched crows.

Or ravens. She honestly didn’t know the difference between the two.

Hundreds of them. Maybe thousands. All watching her. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Sorry for the swearing?”

Another caw, this time from much, much closer.

And from behind her once more. She turned to see a crow was perched on the altar, just a few feet away from her.

Oh, man—they were much bigger up close than they were far away.

That probably meant they were ravens. She had a vague memory of learning ravens were larger.

It was standing opposite Book, eyeing her with its head cocked to one side.

“Hi.” She stared at it. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do.

Or say. This place, and the raven itself, felt ancient.

But in a different way than speaking to the Web had felt.

That had just felt big and huge—cosmically old, like staring through a telescope at the night sky.

The feeling of understanding how large the universe really was, and the sudden realization of “smallness” in comparison.

But this was a different kind of oldness. This was an age that came from the dirt and the earth and the trees. This was an age that came from the nearly endless cycle of birth and growth and decay and death and rot and growth again. Winter into spring into summer into fall into winter once more.

“You’re not the thing inside Valroy.” She took a step closer to the altar. The bird didn’t move. “You’re someone else. Something else.”

The bird jerked its head to the other side to watch her with its other eye. But it didn’t fly away. And, for better or worse, didn’t talk.

Now she really wished she’d taken more ancient religion courses. She probably knew more than most, given her architectural background, but still. She racked her brain for who she could possibly be talking to and why.

Then it hit her.

“Oh.” Her eyes went wide. She resisted the temptation to take a step back. “Oh…hi…” Oh, shit. Oh, fuck. Oh, sweet shitting—“Um. I’m going to just go out on a limb here and guess…that I’m talking to the Morrigan?”

All the ravens at once took off into the sky in an explosion of screeches, caws, and flapping wings.

Ava ducked reflexively, putting her arms over her head. She had no idea if the goddess was going to attack her, or?—

“Little human. Little Weaver. You have lost your way.”

When she wasn’t pecked or shredded to hell by claws and beaks, Ava straightened up. Standing on the other side of the altar from her now was a…woman.

Or at least, Ava assumed it was, by the voice.

The figure was enormous, some seven feet tall or more.

She was wearing a cloak of black raven feathers that glistened in the moonlight.

The hood was drawn, revealing nothing of her features.

She was all shadows and darkness and could have been nothing but a void under there for all Ava knew.

Ava didn’t know where to start. What was she supposed to say to the Morrigan?

She knew better than to ask for any favors.

Should she apologize? Sorry I had sex with your son, though you probably don’t really care.

Sorry I might be trying to kill him, though you probably don’t really care?

Maybe you do. Sorry I might be trying to kill your other son, thought you probably don’t— Yeah, no.

All those options were terrible ideas. “What do you mean, I have lost my way?”

“You know what you must become.” The woman’s voice was deep, but calm.

Emotionless. Simply…there. It wasn’t spooky, it wasn’t horrifying—it was like a narrator’s voice.

All powerful, all knowing, but also somehow ambient.

Removed from the drama as though she didn’t care.

Maybe she didn’t. She was a goddess, after all.

Ava cracked her knuckles, looking down at the book and the two mirrored shards. “The problem is, no one will tell me what I’m becoming. Are you going to be the one to clue me in?”

Silence.

“Thought so.” Ava let out a breath. Reaching out, she picked up one of the mirrored shards, turning it over in her hand. It felt heavy for a dream—surprisingly real and corporeal.

Furrowing her brow, it gave her an idea. “Oh…I think I get what you’re doing. But why? Do you want me to kill Serrik? Kill Valroy? What do you want me to do?”

More silence.

She put the mirrored shard down on the open book. Picking up the other mirrored shard, she flipped to a different part of the open book and did the same. “Ma’am, I really, really, really need you to tell me something. Anything. Literally anything. ”

Silence. The Morrigan simply loomed.

“Y’know, I think the worst part about all this, seriously, the worst part—isn’t the constant threat of physical harm.

It isn’t the fact that your children are always running around threatening to eat my fucking eyes, or take my memories, or trick me out of my own free will.

It’s the fact that none of you”—she was losing her patience and it was probably going to get her killed—“can seem to give me a straight fucking answer or tell me anything that I need to know. Do you realize how quickly things would get done around here if any of you just told me what was happening? And what you wanted me to fucking do?”

More looming silence.

“Okay. Okay!” She stormed away from the altar, throwing her hands up in frustration. Clearly, she wasn’t saying the right things. “Riddle of the sphinx or some shit. Fuck me.” She put her hands over her eyes for a moment and fought back the urge to scream. Or pull her hair out.

It seemed the Morrigan was willing to wait for Ava to figure her shit out, at least. She supposed immortals had a lot of time on their hands.

Scratching her scalp, she tried to put it all together.

“I did warn you I’m shitty at puzzle levels.

” Turning back toward the altar, she looked again at the objects on it.

She knew what the Morrigan was giving her.

But she didn’t know what side the Morrigan wanted her to take.

Only that once she put all the pieces together—literally—it would change everything. Absolutely everything.

There would be no going back.

Lowering her head, she laughed at herself.

Just laughed. A sad, sardonic, exhausted sound.

“No matter how many times I’ve heard it, no matter how much I know it, you’re right.

I’m still clinging to the idea that there’s some chance I might still be able to turn back the clock on this.

That I might be able to escape without becoming…

whatever I’m becoming. I can’t help it. ”

The Morrigan said nothing. At this point, Ava didn’t expect her to.