Chapter 67 #3
The little light inside her flared with one powerful kick.
Tethys recalled the promise she’d made—to fight like hell.
This world was cold and cruel and ruthless, but she’d sculpt it for her son.
She’d give him a life of love and peace, even if it meant sacrificing herself to do so.
Perhaps the prophecy didn’t tell of her demise, but of her evolution, of the world’s growth.
Tethys’s gaze caught on something behind the primordial, shooting through the iridescent doorway. A glint of shimmering power in the distance, violet and green like the midnight borealis. She swallowed the terror rising in her throat and curled her fist in simple, forthright defiance.
“No, I won’t, because you’ve forgotten one thing, Keeper of Chaos,” she whispered, feeling her golden haired boy flutter again deep in her belly.
He chuckled low in his throat. “And what is that?”
“There is one thing that will always overcome fear.” The power pulsed behind him, casting the shadows out with iridescent waves. The binds around her body loosened and she took a step toward him.
“And what is that?” Vorthal replied, a growl rumbling in his chest.
“Love.” Tethys’s palms connected with the beam of power. It curled around her, crawling over her hands, her wrists, her chest. The borealis traveled up her body, encasing her in an impenetrable armor of star-speckled night.
Vorthal’s breath hitched as another beam of power, bright and blue like the cerulean sea, crossed over the threshold. Tethys’s curls floated around her as it enwrapped her in rippling immortal power. She closed the distance between them, her siblings’ power flowing through her veins.
Another emerged from the darkness, like fresh springtime air and early morning light. It tasted sweeter than honeysuckle and felt as warm as a mild morning mist.
Eos.
Beside it came one final beam like dusk and frost. Not sickening or oppressive like Procyon’s, but cold and wild like an autumn hillside. She harbored Astraeus’s power just beside her mother’s and closed her eyes.
“There is love in this world, Vorthal, and for that reason alone your plans will always fail. You will always fail,” she said, concentrating the energy into one singularity.
Tethys shot her index finger toward Vorthal, expelling the growing power in a beam of sun and star and dawn and dusk all at once.
The primordial flew backwards, his robe of shadows curling and twisting around his slender frame.
“Tethys! Run!” Polaris cried, her voice echoing through the cavern. Tethys bolted toward the door in the distance, not risking a glance toward the ripple of magic as it burrowed into Vorthal’s tightly-stretched flesh. The world shook, chaos lashed out at her boots as she raced toward the door.
“Daughter of Dawn,” Vorthal roared behind her, quickening her pulse. Talons scraped down the nape of her neck, but she fixed her eyes on the gateway. It hummed as she neared, only a few paces away. Her calves strained to maintain speed, but she shoved the exhaustion away.
Tethys knew with her whole body that she’d make it to the gate. She’d cross its threshold and seal Vorthal away. This life was far too precious. Far too important. If only for her son, she’d push herself past the point of physical failure to protect it.
To protect him.
Tethys’s thighs begged for rest and her lungs burned for air, but she pushed on.
Just before her knees buckled, a snow white hand extended from the doorway and grasped her shoulder.
Vorthal’s essence pounced, wrapping itself around each of her sister’s fingers like an animal with the sharpest of teeth.
Polaris sobbed as it bit into her skin, filling her veins with black primordial energy.
“You will never escape me,” Vorthal roared from the shadows. Tethys shoved her exhausted body over the threshold, sending the two immortal sisters flying backward into the mortal realm. The shadows still tangled around Polaris’s hand, glowing and wriggling faintly under her flesh.
“Altair, get Polaris away!” Tethys cried with raspy breath. Her brother dragged their sister’s limp body across the stone floor and knelt beside her, panic etched in his brow.
Blood red eyes glowed from within the swirling darkness, but they didn’t approach. They lurked there in the swirling chaos, as if Vorthal himself knew there was more still to come, more still to do.
With the slam of the wooden door, she didn’t give Vorthal the chance to follow her.
Tethys’s heart slammed against her chest as she retrieved the prism key from her cloak and inserted it into the lock.
The mechanism clicked and the faint glow around the door’s frame slowly faded, leaving only an ancient, weathered door.
Tethys let out a breath, relief washing through her as she smoothed the curls from her face. The Venian children, huddled on the stairwell, whimpered and cried for their mothers. She hushed them with a reassuring gaze and joined Altair beside her sister’s limp body.
“Polaris? Is she breathing?” Tethys asked.
“I’m okay, sister.” Polaris’s voice was weak, but her violet eyes glinted with newfound strength.
The night goddess, with jaw clenched, cradled her wounded hand.
Her fingers were burned where the shadows had been, and in the dim chamber light, Tethys watched as they wriggled just under her skin, creeping up her wrist and over her forearm.
“Are you sure?” she asked again, cupping Polaris’s cheek. Her complexion paled, but Polaris nodded.
“We have to get out of here. Once we get past the wards, I’ll drop you both off in Aquilae before returning the kids,” Altair replied, cradling their sister in his arms. Tethys nodded a reply and gathered the children at her sides.
“It seems that rickety old door wasn’t our end after all, brother,” Tethys mused, arching a brow as they ascended the stairwell. Altair scoffed, but something like relief flashed across his eyes.
Slowly they climbed the staircase, stopping every so often to gather the children and ensure none had fallen behind.
Only when Tethys felt the dry castle air pucker her skin did she allow herself a moment to rest. Her body ached and her throat burned, but as she took a seat opposite the dungeon door, her muscles jellied.
She placed a gentle hand on her belly, feeling her little light flutter in response. They’d done it. The realm was safe, and the children would sleep snuggled in their beds beneath the comfort of their parent’s protective arms and warm hearth light.
She could rest.