Chapter 51 Romie #2
“The false god took our immortality when he stole our power. So long as we were confined in the abyss, we remained invulnerable, but here in the mortal realms? We could very well meet our end if we’re not careful—which is why we have our emissary here to act as our vessel until we find a way to stop the false god for good. ”
They gently touched Atheia’s cheek. “Will you help us, daughter?”
There was such genuine affection in that gesture, such hope shining in their shifting eyes, that Atheia could almost believe it to be sincere.
She wanted it to be. This was what she had craved all her life, she realized.
To be loved by these gods who had created her instead of being a mere instrument through which they ruled over their realms.
But the sincerity behind their words and expressions turned foul. Atheia knew they did not love her. They simply needed her, just like they’d needed her to splinter herself into pieces back then to save them all.
Atheia guarded her heart against this gutting realization. “How would you propose I help you?”
“Only the joint forces of the living and sleeping realms can defeat the false god now. We can’t access the godsworld we’ve been cast out of nor wrest our godhood back without you and Sidraeus.” A tilt of their head. “Rumor has it you’ve captured him. We would very much like to… say hello.”
“Sidraeus is mine and mine alone to deal with.” Vehemence seeped through Atheia’s words. Doubt shadowed her thoughts. Was there another angle to their desire to see him—to this plea for her to cooperate? “I refuse to work with him, and trust me when I say he would do the same.”
“From what we remember, you could be very persuasive,” the gods said.
“Have you lost your edge, Atheia? Have you given yourself so completely over to revenge that, like mortals, you are unable to keep a level head? Surely you can put such emotions aside to help us. Surely you can see that only by restoring our godhood, reclaiming the godsworld, purifying the fountain, we can save these worlds you so dearly love.”
They looked around pointedly at the broken worlds before them, the haunting skies, the pockets of darkness.
“Because clearly, your methods have not been successful so far. The people who once worshipped you are losing faith in you with each day that passes without you bringing them a viable solution to their catastrophic problems. Don’t you wish to save them before it’s too late? ”
Atheia felt like a child being put in her place.
Anger boiled inside her as she could see her agenda slipping, all her hard work swiped aside for these gods, just as it had always been.
They called, she answered. Their needs, she saw to.
Their will was hers, and she could not deny them even if she tried.
So you do know how that feels, Romie’s voice echoed in her mind.
Atheia had lost focus—had become unbalanced with the arrival of the gods, letting Romie’s consciousness slip through the cracks.
She shoved her back with a hissed Quiet, her mind racing to come up with a plan.
She refused to let Sidraeus go free. And yet the gods could help expedite her plan to eradicate him and his magic.
“Equilibris wants to send these worlds into oblivion and start fresh,” the gods pressed.
“You see? The realms are already fighting for dominance because of what the false god has done, and it will only fuel Equilibris to put an end to all of it. We must restore things to what they were before he can do so.”
Atheia clenched her fists. “I thought I stopped that from happening the first time around when I splintered myself. When you convinced me that so long as a piece of me existed in each world, Equilibris could not wipe the board clean.”
“It seems we may have been wrong.”
She couldn’t fathom the idea that her splintered existence might have been for nothing. But hearing the gods admit fault swayed her. “If I help you,” she said slowly, “if I get Sidraeus to assist in defeating Clover, will you help me eradicate him and his abominations?”
“Of course,” the gods said, stroking Atheia’s cheek again. “We will trap him forevermore in the sleepscape, unable to visit the realms of the living, if this is what you desire. We will give you a bigger role than you’ve previously had, if you ask it of us. Anything for you, daughter of ours.”
Atheia saw the truth beneath their honeyed words, that they were still using her as a means to an end. But if it meant their goals were aligned, then it was worth becoming their instrument once more.
If they held up their end of the bargain.
Atheia lifted her chin. “I’ll help you,” she said. “But not before I finish what I’ve started here.”
Something like anger flashed in the gods’ eyes. “The more we wait, the more the worlds of the living will suffer.”
If they had possessed the kind of power they did before Clover stole it from them, Atheia might have been scared of them.
They could have forced her to do what they wanted.
Could have dragged her to the gates of the godsworld without so much as lifting a finger.
But they’d lost so much power, all they had left was this ability to manipulate their emissary. To all but beg for Atheia’s help.
The thought sent a little thrill down her spine.
“Surely saving the worlds can wait until the evening,” Atheia said sweetly. “Meet me at the Institute at sundown, and I will come with you to the godsworld.” She turned her back to the gods’ dumbfounded emissary, smiling to herself as she added, “I have business to take care of until then.”
The gods had one thing right: her methods were not successful.
The blood she’d taken from Emory, the power she’d restored to her faithful lunar mages…
It was not the solution she hoped it would be, so perhaps it was time she put an end to the Tidecaller.
And once Sidraeus was thoroughly broken by the pain of such a loss, then she would turn him over to the gods and gladly help them reclaim their power.
Atheia was on her way to Emory’s room when an explosion rocked the Institute.
Her first thought as she righted herself in the ensuing chaos—clouds of dust and debris hanging heavy in the corridor, a buzz in her ears, muffled shouting nearby—was that a slew of sleepscape pockets must have appeared.
Her second thought was for her prisoners: if they had been swallowed up in these black holes, if she’d lost them, all her plans would be disrupted.
Atheia stumbled to the nearest prisoner wing, every nerve within her strung with anxious tension. A couple of Regulators emerged from the heavy dust clouds, coughing and bewildered.
“What happened?” Atheia urged them.
“We don’t know,” one of them wheezed. “Our security systems went dark, and then—”
There was a loud roar from somewhere deeper in the Institute. The Eclipse wing? Fury swept through Atheia. “Gather all the guards,” she told the Regulators, “and make sure no one leaves.”
She stepped into the veil of dust, using her magic to clear it as she went. What she found made her stop short, fury mounting to its highest peak within her.
Two figures dressed in charcoal Regulator uniforms stood before the cell where Emory’s friends were being kept. But they were no Regulators. One was a Luaguan boy she didn’t recognize; the other, a girl Romie had known as Vera, crouched over the lock of the cell as she tried to pick it open.
The Luaguan boy was the first to notice her, his head snapping in her direction. “She’s here,” he said in useless warning.
Everyone looked at her except for Vera, who kept picking at the lock, tongue trapped between her lips in concentration. Atheia didn’t waste any more time. She gathered power around her—tendrils of dark and light and death—and snarled as she angled it toward them, ready to unleash it.
The lock clicked open. One of the prisoners burst out of the cell, putting herself directly in the line of fire of Atheia’s magic, hands extended out, yelling at her to stop.
It was Nisha. Somewhere deep within her, Romie screamed as Atheia moved to unleash her magic, delighting in the way Nisha simply closed her eyes, as if accepting her own death.
“I love you, Romie Brysden,” the girl whispered, opening her eyes again to peer at her. “You said to tell you when we woke, so here I am, begging you to hear me.”
The magic at Atheia’s fingertips died as those words reached Romie like a hand pulling a drowning girl up onto solid land. All at once, Romie was present enough to wrest control of her own body, pushing Atheia’s consciousness down, down, down.
“What did you say?” Romie croaked, stumbling over her own voice.
Nisha’s face shone with bewilderment. A sob escaped her lips as she reached for Romie, hugging her close.
“I love you.” She said it again and again in Romie’s ear like a prayer, impossible words Romie had heard in a dream and had stopped hoping she would ever hear in waking.
Words that had coaxed her out from the unfathomable depths Atheia had pushed her into.
Romie’s arms wound tightly around Nisha, fearing this was all going to be swept away from her at any second.
Wanting to hold on to her forever yet knowing forever didn’t exist. “I love you, too,” she whispered, nestling her nose in Nisha’s hair, breathing her in, branding this moment into her very soul so she would have this, at least; so she could revisit this in her dreams, again and again.
Atheia’s rage was growing inside her, threatening to overthrow her control. Romie pulled away, her gaze landing on the woman hovering close who looked so much like Emory.
“You’re Adriana,” Romie whispered. Or Luce, as Kai had called her when he’d told Romie she’d been helping him with the escape plan.
Emory’s mother gave her a wobbly smile. “Can you believe the nightmare boy actually came through for us?”
A disbelieving laugh bubbled past Romie’s lips. The thought that this had all started with Romie and Kai venturing into the sleepscape together to find the epilogue that had been in Adriana’s possession…
“Where is Kai?” Romie asked, noting his absence.
“He’s taking care of the Eclipse wing,” Vera said with a crooked smile. “Along with some help.”
“And Baz?”
“He’s fine,” the Luaguan boy said. At Romie’s quizzical brow, he added, “Sorry, I’m Rusli. The Illusionist who’s going to get you all out of here undetected.”
The sudden reality of it all fell in Romie’s stomach like a weight. She turned to Nisha. “You have to get Emory out.” She took the key that hung around her neck and pressed it into Nisha’s hand, telling them where Emory was being held.
Nisha frowned at her. “You’re coming with us.”
Romie shook her head, holding back tears. “I can’t. Atheia’s already fighting for control, and I can’t have her ruining your escape.”
“No,” Nisha said. “I’m not leaving you.”
But Romie had already backed up into the open cell, motioning at Vera to lock her in.
Nisha launched herself at the bars. “Romie, don’t do this.”
“I have to.” She felt Atheia clawing inside her, getting closer and closer to the surface. She wouldn’t be able to hang on much longer, not against the will of a deity. “This won’t hold her for long, but it’ll give you all a head start.”
There was the click of a lock. Romie reached through the bars for Nisha’s face, wiping away her tears, forcing the girl of her dreams to look at her one last time.
“I love you,” Romie said again, desperately holding on to herself long enough to go in for a hasty, fervent kiss, to feel the salt of tears on her tongue and the silky feel of hair through her fingers.
Romie broke away with a frustrated gasp as Atheia’s consciousness began to dawn. “Go!” she yelled at Nisha, at all her friends.
The last thing she saw was the girl she loved tearing down the corridor with the others before Atheia took control once more.
In the confines of her own mind, Romie couldn’t help but smile at the luck she’d had to have this one win.
Luck. Or perhaps something greater.