Chapter 20
EVERYTHING TURNS white and gold, and everything burns . It’s as if I’ve actually leapt into the sun. I feel pieces of me melting, forming new shapes. Remaking me. For a moment in the brilliant light, I see my mortal mother’s face.
I wonder if this is what it feels like to be born. Or if this is what she felt in the brief moment when she laid her eyes upon Sky—and died, incinerated by a power too great for her to contain.
Bright. Blazing. Transcendent.
Unlike her, I don’t die. I contain it—but for agonizingly long. My strength seems more a curse than a gift in this moment. The pain feels endless.
Better the love of Sea , I think . Better for the both of us, Mother. I hope you know that Sea loved you, wherever you are now.
I hear a high outcry as if from a great distance and then a man’s deep, sensuous laughter, floating like midnight silk on a chill breeze smelling of earth and must and endless darkness.
I know I shouldn’t want to follow the sound, but the coolness of the breeze, whatever shadowy place it comes from, tempts me in my white-hot haze. Even the dark caress of that laughter draws me, despite having the echo of a bottomless tomb.
Until water washes over me like a soothing balm, quenching the fire. I feel my limbs, buoyant and abruptly painless. I taste salt on my tongue. This is the embrace of the sea—I would know it anywhere, despite how long it’s been since I’ve felt it.
I open my eyes. I’m floating face up on a crystalline blue tide, small waves glittering in the sunlight and lapping at a pristine white beach. My fingers drag gently along the smooth, sandy bottom. I dredge up a small handful and simply let the fine particles trickle through my loose grip as I drift on my back.
I wasn’t sure I would ever see the sunlight, or the ocean—at least this ocean—ever again. For a moment I just bask in the embrace of both, stunned into stillness.
Until Pogli snuffles against my lips. Only ripples give me warning of his arrival; my ears were underwater. Splashing, I flail into a seated position and stare at him incredulously before dragging him onto my lap. He looks the same—round, squashed face, lion’s mane, curled pig’s tail, and duck’s wings. He’s wet from the sea, but otherwise whole. He sneezes in my face.
“You beautiful, beautiful creature,” I gasp. It’s still my voice, not someone else’s. Resonant in my broad chest, if choked.
I don’t know how it’s possible that either of us is here. I clutch him in my arms—gently—and let him lick me all he wants. He deserves it, and he’s providing me a service at the same time. The salt on my cheeks isn’t only from the ocean. As I pet him everywhere, I spare only a glance for my hands—long, strong fingers in their usual larger proportions and pale, lightly blue-hued skin. My attentions elicit frankly obscene groans from the little chimera as I make sure he’s in one piece.
And then I remember.
“Sadaré!” The volume of my sudden shout is powerful enough to make Pogli leap off me, startled and barking. I stand in a rush, raining seawater.
When I turn toward the beach, I find myself facing a god.
Horizon. And they’re not wearing any mortal form this time. Possessing someone like Hawk isn’t necessary for my safety. I can look right at them without squinting, never mind incinerating. Even so, it’s like staring at a sunrise over sea.
“Where is she?” I demand without preamble.
“Safe, my son. Be patient.” Their voice is both soft and strong enough to vibrate my bones. “You wake to this world. You wake as a god.”
“I assume you mean half god” is all I can think to say, at first. I feel the opposite of patient, but hearing Horizon’s words has drawn me up short. My throat tightens against my will at the sight of them. “But I don’t know what to call you. Mother? Father?”
“I am both. A divine mystery, just as you are. You were once a demigod born of human and divine parents, now a god, reborn by me.” They raise a hand, and the air nearby shimmers and flares into a bright, reflective surface. A mirror.
I’m frankly sick of mirrors, but it’s thus I can see myself as I stumble out of the water and onto dry sand, still not used to my footing—because, indeed, I have feet, not hooves. No tail for balance. While my skin still possesses its unearthly blue tint and my hair remains the color of slate, no horns rise from my head, no black claws from my fingertips. But there’s something I haven’t yet seen: The bloodred of my eyes has now deepened to the more tempered color of wine.
“I’m… a god?” I say slowly, reaching up to rub my jaw. It’s shadowed with stubble, like many a man’s. Certainly no god’s. “Not merely the son of Sea?” I shake my head. “I find that hard to believe, seeing as I’m not made of effervescent aether, like you are.”
“As I said, you are new,” they say. “Never witnessed before, not even by gods. The true son of Horizon. I am the border between two realms: Sea and Sky. You are of aether and of earth. Bound neither by a god’s rules nor any dark bargains. A divine mystery. A new god.”
It’s the promise Sky once made me and then withdrew. After that, I chose to become a daemon.
Perhaps he’s changed his mind, now that he’s not entirely himself. Now that Horizon has changed it for him. Or now that I’ve changed.
I still can’t help asking, “But the god of what? ”
“Your divinity is yours to discover.”
Awe threatens to overwhelm me. My knees feel unstable, so I look elsewhere. Dissemble, as I try to cling to something familiar to keep my head above these strange waters.
“Divinity.” I snort. “I’m as divine as he is.” I toss my head at Pogli, who is snuffling along the sand. Meandering toward a figure farther up the beach, elegantly sprawled in what, I hope with sudden desperation, is voluntary recline. Her tunic is a splash of pale green, her hair reddish bronze.
Horizon said she was safe, but she’s not moving.
I cry out again, a strangled “Sadaré!”
The god shifts in front of me, halting my charge before my feet can do more than shift in the sand.
“She lives,” my divine parent assures me. “She slumbers. Let her rest as long as she requires. But I must warn you, after she wakes, she’ll remember everything, as you now do.”
I wish I could forget. But I wouldn’t even if I could. It’s my burden. And hers, even if I wish I could carry it for her.
“The maze might have changed her as well,” Horizon continues.
I take a deep breath around the sudden pain. “Meaning she might not love me anymore, as I am.”
Pogli has found his way into Sadaré’s hair to worry at her face—he, at least, doesn’t care to let her rest. I shake my head, un able to keep my lips from curving, even as fear spikes within me. “Thank you for saving this little one for me. And for saving her.”
“You saved him. And yourself. And Sadaré. And she saved you.”
I ignore my divine parent’s confusing words, clucking instead at the chimera, who now dashes around Sadaré’s sleeping form, pig’s tail waggling madly, kicking up sand and barking. Somehow, I love this absurd little abomination more than I could ever love myself.
Except he is a piece of me. Was . He’s something else now, as am I.
Perhaps that’s a start.
As for Sadaré, it’s no surprise that I love her more than the sunlight and the sea, more than the entire waking world. I can more easily imagine I owe all of this to her.
Will she even like Pogli? I wonder. She didn’t, when she was me.
Who is she now?
Sadaré. Daesra. Our names broken reflections of each other. Who are either of us now?
Horizon extends an ethereal burning limb, as if to pass me something. Still wary of contact with pure aether no matter what I’ve supposedly become, I hold my hand a safe distance underneath. There’s a bright flash that drops like molten light onto my palm. Surprisingly, it’s cool—metal. Gleaming quicksilver, like my sword or my blood, but shaped into a ring.
“For her,” they say. “To make her immortal, if you wish to give it to her.”
For a moment, I’m frozen. It’s everything she’s ever wanted. At least it was —I don’t know what she wants now. Then I frown down at it, rolling it in my fingers. “It feels like you’re giving me an unfair advantage. She’s long earned this, so it’s not my gift to give.”
“She’s had you at a disadvantage many times. And yet, my son, you are no longer competing. You never were, in the maze. Would you prefer she remain mortal?”
I force my jaw to relax. “Of course not, and I don’t necessarily think she would, either. But I want her to love me as I am now, not out of some sort of bribery or obligation.” I consider the ring, winking in the sunlight, and I sigh. “It’s hers, but I don’t want to give it to her just yet. I’d like a clean start, for better or worse.” I scoff lightly. “As clean as either of us can be. And I should at least warn her that turning into a god hurts like bathing in a forge. Even if she still likes pain, I’m not sure she’ll like it that much.”
Horizon nods. “As you wish. In any event, the mortal has earned her place at your side—her place among the gods—and we will welcome her when the time comes.”
“I’ll ask her, and it will be her decision.”
Horizon turns. “She stirs. Go to her. Tell me what she decides. Perhaps she’ll be able to tell me herself.”
The god is right; she’s shifting on the sand. I take a few steps toward her without thinking—Sadaré, ever the flame that draws me—and when I look back over my shoulder, my divine parent is gone. There’s only the sea and the sky, and the far distant horizon in between.
“Thank you,” I murmur. And then I run for her.
I stop just at her side, hovering over her as she sits up, unable to resist smoothing her hair and tugging her tunic over her legs. Especially because she only has one hand now. Her right arm ends just below the elbow.
My sword did that. Took that from her, in return for her taking a daemon from me. For a moment, I feel ill.
She squints up at me, shielding her eyes from the sun, when she’s finally able to focus. “There was a maze,” she says hoarsely, clearing her throat. “You led me through it. Or did I lead you?”
“I’m honestly not sure,” I say, settling in a crouch before her, so I’m not looming as much. “But it’s over. We’re free.”
I’m free. I have to repeat it to myself to believe it.
She spits some sand out of her mouth, likely courtesy of Pogli. “Do you know your name yet? Because I still don’t know mine.”
“Daesra,” I say. “I suppose I’ll keep it, since it’s the only one I have. Perhaps I’ll change it if the fancy strikes.”
She raises her left hand for me to take in greeting. “Then I’m Sadaré, for now. A pleasure to meet you.”
I humor the gesture, giving her a slight bow from where I crouch. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, too. For the third time, in fact.”
She’s not only free—she’s new now, too, no longer my twisted, daemonic reflection in a mirror, nor the woman who betrayed me out of a need for power. But her distance is beginning to frighten me—until her falsely polite expression breaks along with her voice. Tears rise in her brilliant green eyes.
“I’m really happy to see you,” she gasps out.
I seize her face in my hands and practically dive into her, showering her with kisses everywhere I can reach. Her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, her neck. “You fool,” I mutter into her skin. “You utter fool. How could you do that to me? To yourself? I could kill you.”
She laughs through the storm of kisses. “Did I mention that I’m also really happy I’m alive?” Her palm finds my cheek to hold me at bay—or at least at enough of a distance for her to examine me in wonder. “You look so different now.”
I flinch. Maybe she won’t love me anymore, even though I’m no longer monstrous. Or maybe because I’m not.
She did always have a taste for strong flavors.
She blinks. “What happened after I knelt for the daemon? Dare I ask how I lost an arm?”
I gather that up, too, kissing the smooth expanse of scar, as if I can take away the damage I’ve done. At least she doesn’t remember what she became at the very end. Which is more than fair, since she took that burden from me. I’m glad, for once, she left me something to carry for her.
“You made it out” is all I say. “We both did, and that’s what matters.”
I’m still trying to reassure myself. Part of me still feels trapped in the maze. Lost. Buried under the crushing weight of my past. Her hand tightens on my arm.
“That’s what matters,” she repeats. “We’re here… wherever here is. We’re alive, at least, and mostly in one piece.”
She’ll never know how close a thing it was, thank the gods.
“I suppose it’s a good thing you’re left-handed, and the daemon had enough of me remaining to use the right.” My smile is feeble, my breath shaky, despite my ironic tone. “I still owe you for kneeling for that thing. I haven’t yet forgiven you, but perhaps we can celebrate our survival first.” I glance around at the beach, deserted save for us and Pogli sniffing along the shore. “I would offer you wine, except I have none.”
“What can you offer me, aside from tempting threats?” Sadaré doesn’t sound concerned in the slightest, more eager, which makes my pulse and a darker hunger leap in my chest. But then she lifts the stub of her arm, frowning at it—still not nearly as perturbed as she might be. “I might be in need of some assistance.”
What can I offer you? I feel the gentle weight of the bright ring in my pocket. Not yet.
“Love,” I say simply.
She plants her one hand in the sand and leans back, her other arm draped in her lap, trying to suppress a smirk. “How can we survive on love? We cannot eat or drink it.”
“I’ll make wine. I’ve always wanted to.” I give her my most charming smile. As a daemon, it worked wonders—I don’t know how I look now. Perhaps like a besotted fool. “Would you like to make wine with me?”
“That sounds like it has a double meaning,” she says, and again I don’t know how she’ll take it. But then she grins back at me in a way that nearly makes my heart stop, spearing me through. I’ve never felt more mortal or immortal all at once. “Both meanings appeal, honestly. I’ve always loved a hedonist.”
I bark a laugh, and quickly swallow it. “I’ve become more than that. I’m—” Man, daemon, god … Nothing entirely fits. “I’ll be good to you,” I finish. “I can do that now. Love you as you deserve—purely, thoroughly, without walls.”
She squints, as if seeing something within me I can’t. Like she always has. “I know.” Her smile turns wicked. “But perhaps you can show me how thoroughly.”
One-handed, she crawls toward me, toppling onto my lap as Pogli jumps to lick her face. She pushes him aside with an unfettered laugh, her fingers tangling in his mane and feathers. I catch her in my arms and stare down at her in awe—the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.
This is what this miserable existence of clay and aether is for. Not for power or wealth to spend recklessly on matters of revenge or pride, but to give yourself to another like your life is your dearest treasure, in the hopes that you get the best of them in return—or at least the best with all the rest. It’s what a blessing from the gods used to be, and yet mortals don’t need the gods to do it. It took me far too long to understand, but I think I do, like I never have before.
And I think Sadaré does, too. She stares back at me, laughter fading, replaced by something far more intense in her expression. The air is charged between us, just as it is before the heavens open and pour down rain.
She brushes the hair out of my eyes, tracing the line of my jaw, and she asks in a low murmur that hums through me, “Although… we can’t be too pure now, can we? Where’s the fun in that?” Then she makes a fist at the nape of my neck and drags my mouth down to hers, speaking with her lips against mine. “It’s not as if you’re entirely a god.”
I laugh into her mouth—probably the purest sound I’ve ever made, ironically. And yet, it’s she who tastes like nectar, and I can’t stop kissing her, drinking her in, to tell her the full truth about me just yet.
That, along with the ring, can wait.
We pause for a moment, when her hand runs across my back and under my tunic, feeling the ridges there. The scars I didn’t know my loving parent had left when they remade me.
For remembrance. The two claw marks down either side of my spine. Made by Sadaré-as-me—a moment I’d very much like to forget.
Who needs invisible scars when I have these? I think sardonically.
Sadaré purses her lips and asks sheepishly, “Perhaps you can give me a matching pair?”
My breath catches. I didn’t know if she would still want such things, but this gives me hope. And a deeper, darker need that only she can satisfy.
We both grow much filthier then, rolling together over the silk-soft sand. When I accidentally dig my too-powerful fingers into her thigh, she moans, but not in pain—in delicious pleasure that only makes me hungrier.
“I might miss your claws,” she says breathlessly. “And horns.”
Very well , I think. Let us make new memories. And remake ourselves as we both want.
In a mere blink of effort, horns and claws sprout from my head and hands. Sadaré gasps as she feels the sharpness of the points against her skin. She looks up in shock—and seizes one of my horns in her grip. Her delighted laugh is intoxicating as she bends my lips to hers.
“I’ve always wanted to do this,” she murmurs. “I can still manage one-handed.” And then she guides my head farther down past her mouth, her breasts, steering me between her thighs.
After I’ve drunk my fill of her, sating myself on her moans, I’m yet hungry for more. And so the filthier we get. Tumbling like a beast upon the ground doesn’t bother me in the slightest. I certainly haven’t lost my taste for such things.
I would stoop to any depth for her, climb to any height. I would go to hell and back to save her, because she went to hell and back to save me.
Rather, to give me a reason to save myself.
For that, I’ll be her god, her daemon, her servant, whatever she wants me to be.
Hers.
And I want her to be mine. Forever.
Sometime later, when I have breath enough to speak, I ask, “What if I told you I was entirely a god now?”
When she realizes I’m serious, her eyes widen from where she’s tucked in the crook of my arm, her lips parting in that way I love, tempting my teeth. Instead, I draw myself onto my knees before her.
I smile and lift her ring, gleaming quicksilver in the sunlight. “Would you like to become one, too?”