Chapter 40
At first, Erebus didn’t know that the spirits lived inside these new bodies, awake and aware, trapped and in agony. When the Seer told him of their suffering, Erebus laughed. Their pain fed his shadows, making the realm stronger.
—OLD ONES, ANCIENTS, AND THE FOLK
Erebus whirled. A figure was illuminated by a lantern held in one hand. But Thea already knew who it was before she saw him—his voice, his scent, the feeling of his presence in the air.
Damon.
As Erebus’s shadows whirled in confusion, Thea’s butterflies returned to her, their wings shrinking as they settled on her shoulders and in her hair. She sensed their curiosity, as if they wanted to watch this confrontation, to gauge who would be the winner.
“My son,” Erebus said, hiding the blade behind his back. “This Sylvan girl is a threat to both of us and must be dealt with if we are to rule together.”
“Thea is most definitely a threat,” Damon agreed.
As he approached, the darkness of the bubble that surrounded them thinned. Thea could see the clash of Huntsmen and creatures fighting by Scarhamm’s walls. The Sylvan king’s sword was a scythe, harvesting death rattles and blood.
Light from the bonfires filtered in, catching the planes and angles of Damon’s face, delineating every beautiful line and curve. Thea was ashamed to realize how much pleasure she found in looking at him, even now.
“I am glad you see her for what she is,” Erebus said, bringing the shadow blade from behind his back. “Shall I give you the honor, my son?”
Damon put his hand out for the blade, his face a mask of cruelty.
In that moment, Thea could not remember ever seeing softness in him.
All memory of their time together was wiped away in the intensity of this.
He was death personified, a walking embodiment of a last breath.
If they’d been on the same side in this conflict, she might have admired him.
But he was going to kill her. He had traded her freedom for his mother’s, and now he would trade her life for his father’s forgiveness.
His eyes shifted to hers, but she could not name the look in them. Her heart pounded, her blood warming to panic in her veins. No shield could hold forever.
She hoped her sisters had made it inside the war room.
She wished she could embrace them one last time.
There was so much more she wanted to do if only she had more days ahead.
She would spend less time training. More time laughing.
Less time worrying the truce wouldn’t hold. More time finding common ground.
Damon took a step closer, one hand holding the blade. With his other hand, he reached out toward her as if inviting her to dance with him. She gave him a hate-filled look, furious that he was using this moment to mock her. She had never done anything to deserve this.
He blinked, the expression on his face changing to one of inquiry. She saw the thickness of his lashes, the way the shadows fell on the curves of his face. Shadows had always loved him.
“I’ll haunt you as a spirit,” she swore, hating that her voice shook. “I’ll make your life a misery. I’ll never leave you alone.”
“Promise?” He bent his head, and for a moment, she thought he would touch his lips to hers. But they merely brushed her cheek in a warm caress of two words. “The cup.”
“What?” Thea jerked her head up, her eyes snapping to his. He was asking her for the silver cup? Prospect had hidden it in shadows, but… wait, she had his shadows!
Damon made a motion with his hand. A butterfly lifted from her shoulder and alighted in his palm. It unfurled to reveal the silver goblet, its polished surface catching orange firelight.
In a blur of movement, Damon turned to his father, seizing his shoulder and pressing the cup against Erebus’s cheek.
Erebus froze as if turned to stone, letting out a groan of pain. His lips moved slowly as he spoke in a fierce whisper. “What… are you doing?”
“Feel his terror,” Damon said to the shadows. “My father’s power is waning. You’ve grown bored with his petty cruelty. Go to the First of Shadows. She is stronger. Braver. More enticing in every possible way. Cleave to her, and she will never betray you.”
Shadow by shadow, they swirled together in a dark cloud.
Thea felt their ambivalence, some of them reluctant, even hateful—but they came to her.
Maybe they were persuaded by Damon’s words, or by the new power they sensed in him.
She sensed it, too. Her head was reeling, her breath coming in shallow bursts.
She trembled at the feeling of so many shadows around her.
“You’ll be my butterflies,” she told them, emanating the strength they craved.
Damon gave her a lopsided smile. “My First,” he said softly. “I knew you were meant for this.”
“Think very carefully about what you do next,” Erebus snarled. “There will be no forgiveness for you this time, Damon, unless you take this foul cup from my skin and kill the girl. Then we will discuss your future.”
“It burns, doesn’t it?” Damon asked, shoving it closer.
“An item made by the Ancients to weaken and overcome the Old Ones, who had outgrown their time in this world. This is the cup of forgetfulness, once used to help put them to sleep. You, Father, have lost the right of wakefulness. Sleep now, and be at peace for the first time in your miserable existence.”
“No!” Erebus screamed, the word ending on a gasp of pain as Damon pressed the silver tighter against his cheek. “I will cover the earth with my shadows, and all will bow to me.”
“You have no shadows,” Thea pointed out, becoming accustomed to their presence. “They’re mine now.”
Erebus’s eyes shifted to her, and she had never seen so much loathing.
“You deserve what is coming. You and all your people. I’ve been weakening the walls of my prison for millennia, and the walls that hold the Old Ones have been thinned, too.
Without me holding my realm strong, the rest of them will be released.
They will destroy everything you hold dear.
Freeing me now is the only way to save yourselves. ”
“We’ll find another way,” Thea said, coming to stand toe to toe with him.
He bared his teeth. “When my brethren wake, we will have a revel of destruction unlike anything—”
“I could force you to drink,” Damon interrupted, his voice calm, low, and as silky as ever. “But I will offer you a choice: The cup? Or eternal torment?”
“You think you’re strong enough to trap me? To torture me endlessly?” Erebus said, his voice almost hysterical.
The barrier of darkness around them dissolved.
A heavy footfall came before a large, antlered figure approached, his animal shadow falling over the shadow king, his sword dripping the ichor blood of creatures with no place in this world.
“Erebus the Betrayer,” said the Sylvan king, his hair matted, his face drawn in lines of fatigue. “This has long been coming. It will take many, many years to repay you for what you have done to me.”
Erebus’s chest was rising and falling quickly. “Unfair. This is your home, Silvanus. Fight me in territory where we’re evenly matched.”
“Was it fair that you took my wife? That you took my daughter?” Thunder rumbled overhead and lightning flashed, illuminating the Sylvan king and the Huntsmen.
Thea had never seen her father look so dangerous. So wild.
And behind him, the sky was orange. Dawn was breaking over Thirstwood.
Wind shook trees, shaking leaves from branches. Rain poured, lashing the Huntsmen and their enemies as they fought. Lightning flashed in an endless strobe. The bonfires hissed, their flames dying.
“I did nothing wrong,” Erebus screamed. “It was your carelessness that led to Coventina’s capture.
You should have warned your people. It wasn’t my fault you are so frightened of weakness that you could not admit my power still thrived in your forest!
” Though his words held fury, Erebus’s body trembled as he twisted the rings on his fingers.
Thea thought how small he looked without his shadows.
“Let us test my ‘weakness’ here in my home, Erebus,” said Silvanus, king of the forest, as he walked closer, his steps shaking the ground. “I will be as merciful to you as you have been to all the folk who were lured into your realm.”
“I choose the cup,” Erebus whispered, his eyes wide with terror. “My son. The cup!”
His shout was drowned by a clap of thunder.
Between one flash of lightning and the next, Damon tipped the cup to his father’s lips, administering the brew.
Silver flowed over the ground, roots spreading.
Each flash of lightning showed more, from Erebus’s ankles to his waist, and finally, his arms lifted as branches that touched the sunrise.
Some of the branches glinted gold, red, blue, and green—his rings, strung like decorations for a revel.
Thea realized they were all that was left of Erebus the Betrayer.