Page 11 of Wild Reverence

One of the moonstones in my belt flared hot, drawing a hiss from me. I glanced down, shocked to see that the stone with the uncanny streak had changed again. It no longer mimicked a closed eye with long lashes. It was opening, exposing a half-moon blue iris and a pupil dark as obsidian.

I covered it with my palm.

“ Heal her, ” Bade was now begging, his pride disintegrating. His desperation made it seem as if he had disrobed, and I struggled to look at him. “You are the god of healing. Have mercy, lord.”

Dacre was quiet, relishing his power; he was the only divine who could mend such terrible wounds. And he had brought none other than the fearsome god of war to his knees.

“What is this ?” Dacre asked, descending the dais stairs.

“Some mark of mortal favor?” He yanked the golden circlet away from Bade’s brow, hurling it into the shadows.

“I will heal this pitiful mortal woman if you give me your forge. Your collection of enchanted weapons. Your vassal whom you guard and withhold from me.”

No, Bade, I wanted to shout at him. I wanted to pound him with my fists and bring him back to his senses. My chest suddenly constricted; I bit back tears, to see his disgrace unfold.

Do you want to be feared or loved? he had once asked me.

Feared, I had said because I knew it was safest. I had set myself upon such a path and he had approved.

But now my heart felt twisted, confused, as I watched him gaze down at Adria.

I had never seen such a delicate expression on his angular, ugly face before.

As if he was made of feathers, thistledown, sun-warmed sand.

Soft.

“Don’t,” Adria said, her voice frayed and weak. “Don’t give… those up for… me.”

She closed her eyes again as he caressed her hair. She was struggling to breathe; it was painful to listen to the wet saw of her inhales, exhales.

Bade’s face crumpled.

In that moment, I realized I had been wrong about his fault line.

He had once made me doubt, but now there was no question.

It was his heart, and he had just revealed it to the entire clan.

All because of her, a mortal woman he had once plotted to deceive.

A mortal woman who had somehow gotten the best of him.

Dacre now loomed over them, waiting for Bade to decide.

This moment felt like an iron prong, boring into my side.

Everything was about to change. There was no redemption beyond this reckoning; whatever Bade chose, it would alter the stars. It would shake our foundations, forming new cracks in our world that would admit a flood of unknown darkness.

I could feel it flaming in the moonstone, still hidden beneath my palm.

A question that had no answer.

“All that you ask for,” Bade said at last, lifting his gaze to meet Dacre’s. “I will give it to you, if you will heal her.”

Dacre smiled, crooked and close-lipped, and held out his arms. “Give her to me.”

“Do not let go of her, Bade.”

Orphia’s command rang through the air, drawing our attention to the eastern doorway, where she stood on the threshold, tall and dark as a thundercloud in her black robes.

Dacre stiffened. His eyes cut to the goddess of death, his mouth settling into a displeased pout.

“Orphia,” he said in a tense voice. “How magnanimous of you to join us.”

She stepped into the hall. Underlings parted for her like water. It had been a long while since Orphia had attended court. She was the matriarch, the oldest of the Underlings. And she was the only one who did not bow to Dacre’s power.

“Mother,” Bade said, relief and fear warring in his face, in his voice. “If I don’t, she will die.”

“Perhaps.” Orphia came to a gradual halt beside them. I noticed Adria’s shadow shrank even more, as if folding itself up for Death to claim. “But if you let Dacre heal her, she will be beholden to him. She will bend herself to his will, and his alone.”

“I do not want her beholden to any of us,” Bade replied. “Not to him, not to me. She belongs to herself.”

“Then how do you expect her to live here amongst us with such will intact?” Dacre interjected, but color had risen in his face.

His anger burned like stars in his eyes.

“You know our laws. This mortal woman must be a vassal if she is to live in our realm. Even if she decides to dwell eternally with us as a shade, she is required to serve.”

Adria could return to the under realm after dying.

Her soul would become a shade if she chose that route.

But it was just as Dacre said—she would be bound to everlasting service.

She would forfeit her chance of reaching paradise in the mists.

And I did not think Bade would want that for her.

To see her but never be able to touch her again.

To watch her bend herself to us and our whims, day after day, night after night.

“If you refuse my generosity to heal her,” Dacre said, quieter, “then you must carry her back to her realm to die.”

Bade turned to stare at his mother, continuing to hold Adria close.

“If you take her soul now,” he whispered to Orphia, “I will follow her to the mists. I will gladly let a divine strike me down when she breathes her last.”

Orphia was silent, but her displeasure plunged the hall into coldness, as if a flood had risen around us. The shadows grew long and twisted across the floor. The moonstone continued to smolder like a coal against my hand.

“There is another way,” Orphia said at last, the words coming slow, reluctant. “I cannot heal her wounds, but I will delay in taking her soul as long as I can. I will surrender four stars from my constellation and grant them to her. I can make her immortal, but only by half.”

Murmurs erupted through the hall; wonder entwined with disgust.

Dacre threw up his hand for silence.

“Do you mean to say you will make this mortal woman into one of us ?” he asked.

“Yes,” Orphia responded. “But she will need four more stars in order to complete her divinity.”

“Impossible! This has never been done,” Dacre scoffed, just as Bade murmured, “ Take mine. Take four of my stars and give them to her.”

Orphia shook her head. “They cannot come from you, my son.”

“Then where? Where can they be found?”

“The stars must be granted by my other half. By my sister.”

All of us knew of Orphia’s sister. She was Rowena, the goddess of fate, and she was the Skyward matriarch. The two of them had not spoken, face-to-face, in centuries. Their falling-out was legendary, the beginning of our divine woes.

“This is tragic,” sighed Dacre, sounding not at all sad. He looked down at Bade. “None of us can tread the Skyward realm. You must decide if I should heal your mortal lover now, or if she should die.”

Bade was not listening.

He had glanced up, eager, as if looking for someone in the crowd. Within moments his gaze found mine and there it remained, fixed upon me. He was my salt-sworn ally, my soul-forged father. And I knew what he needed before he could utter the words.

“ Matilda, ” he breathed. “Matilda, you are Skyward as you are Underling. You are the only one amongst us who can tread all three realms. Will you go on my behalf? Will you carry a message to the goddess of fate?”

“ No. ” My mother’s protest came swiftly, like a sword whirring through air. “Bade, she is too young. She is not ready—”

“I will do it,” I said, my voice trembling.

I was not afraid, but nor did I feel courageous. I was hungry. I felt a door opening for me, and I wanted to step through it.

“Are you certain, child?” Orphia asked, the kindest she had ever sounded, as if she knew she was sending me to the den of a lion.

“I will do it,” I said again, louder, and stepped off the table.

This time, the Underlings parted for me, moving aside as if I had grown wings, or two heads, or dragged a dead divine behind me.

I reached Orphia’s side, uncertain what came next. But my magic was swelling within me, almost painful, as if I had outgrown my bones, my skin.

The goddess of death held out a letter, sealed with a drop of red wax. It was like she had known this would happen and had come prepared, a request drawn and ready to be handed over. Her sister’s name was scrawled in spiderweb handwriting on the parchment.

“Deliver this to Rowena,” said Orphia. “She will be in her Skyward villa.”

My mouth went dry. My tongue stuck to my teeth as I asked, “And how do I find her villa?”

“I do not know, child. I have never been in the uppermost realm.”

And this is when I realized the challenge I had impulsively accepted.

I likewise had never been to the Skyward realm. I did not know how to enter its gate. I did not know how to safely navigate it.

What if I stumbled across my father? Would I know it was him?

I could feel my mother’s eyes on me. She had never been Skyward, either. All her trysts with my father had occurred in the mortal landscape, beneath tree boughs and tangled in valley grass, sheltered in the shadow of caves. But I refused to meet her gaze, knowing it would only hinder me.

I took the letter from Orphia.

At once, I could feel the humming of beehives. I could smell the sweet air of an orchard and warm, freshly tilled soil. I could hear something clacking, like a shuttle on a loom.

My heart was in my throat, tugging me sharply heavenward. I took a step forward and felt as if I could rise. As if I had truly sprouted wings between the eaves of my shoulders.

It was my magic, leading me to Rowena.

I tucked the letter into one of my moonstone pockets. No one spoke. No one moved. Every eye was hooked upon me as I ran from the hall.