Chapter 49
Nina screamed. She screamed until the mountains trembled and the shards of ice on the trees shook free and speared the ground.
Atik dropped her and whirled around, an agonized scream leaving his mouth as Sacha fell to her knees. A tide of blood poured
from her neck. All Nina saw was red. All she felt was the indescribable need to reach out, to heal, to fix.
Nina could do it. The power of Atik’s touch had died the moment his threads had appeared, and they still burned brightly in
her mind’s eye. The achillas around his neck kept him safe for the moment, but her priority was Sacha. She dove for her sister,
soaring over Maicu’s body, and caught her before her head could hit the ground.
Sacha’s mouth opened and closed with gurgled words. Nina pulled her close and pushed the hair back from her face, shushing
her, soothing her, trying with all her might to ignore the river of blood that pooled around them.
“I’m here, Sacha. I’m here,” she whispered.
“I will not let them turn you into a monster.” Sacha’s voice was barely there. A thin strand of life like the threads in her
chest. Nina closed her eyes and reached as deep as she could, but Sacha’s threads were a tangle of possibilities. Endlessly
overwhelming. Nina couldn’t determine what was Sacha’s will and what was her own, couldn’t find the strength to tie together
flesh and sinew like she had for Kasik.
Kasik. In the distance, she thought she heard his voice.
It distracted her, and Sacha’s threads grew thinner and lighter until there wasn’t enough left to grasp.
Nina poured herself into Sacha, gave her as much of her will as she could.
The mending was done, Sacha’s wound had closed, but her body couldn’t replenish her blood. Nina’s will wasn’t enough.
When she opened her eyes, Sacha watched her with a small smile. Her fingers brushed against Nina’s cheek. “It was always you,”
she whispered. “You are all I See.”
“Sacha, please,” Nina cried. “Please don’t leave me.”
But Sacha was gone. Her eyes stared blankly above, her chest still, her arms limp in the snow. Nina screamed until her throat
was raw. Tears fell and froze to her face and cracked her skin open until she was sure that everything she had ever been was
gone.
She gnashed her teeth at the gods, cursed their names, collected the threads of those around her who watched the scene unfold
before them with confusion, their hands on their blades, ready to fight despite the uncertainty brimming in their eyes. She
couldn’t distinguish one from the other, knew only that they were nothing but clay in her hands.
She began to squeeze, intent on bringing everyone to their knees.
And then: “Nina!”
Her head snapped toward the voice, the essence of vengeance on the tip of her tongue and tingling in her palms. But there
was Kasik, on hands and knees, crawling to her. Her rage stuttered. Somehow, he was there, and he was fighting, and his voice
centered her, reminded her, for a moment, of the person she could have been.
But half her soul was gone. She had given it all to Sacha, and there was space for more purpose than ever before. More awareness.
More power. The men surrounding them dropped to their knees, their hands cradling their heads. If they wore achillas, it did
not matter. Her wrath was righteous and undetectable by their measly stones.
Their voices rose in a chorus of screams, a symphony of pain unending that made her soul hum with pleasure and her power vibrate with joy. In her delight, and the clarity it provided, her eyes found Atik, a beacon in the middle of the melee, a knife poised above Kasik.
Kasik was speaking, but she couldn’t hear him.
All she could see was his hand reached out for her. The revenge to be had.
Atik, with his threads fully restored. The achilla that hung from his neck and swung from side to side as he lunged forward.
The blade in his hand as he plunged it into Kasik’s back.
More blood on the achilla altar. Another offering to bring the gods closer than before.
More power for Nina to tear them all down.
Nina slipped out from underneath Sacha’s body and lunged for Kasik at the same time the blade landed a second blow in his
side. He screamed, but he left his hand open for her, where, in the center of his palm, was a small blade.
It didn’t matter that she couldn’t use her power against Atik. He was a man, a mortal, and he would bleed like one. Nina scooped
up the knife and swung wildly at him.
But he was fast. He twirled out of the way of her arc, dancing lithely between the bodies of his emperor and his son. Nina
was forced to follow, to crouch as he stabbed at her.
“You are no match for me,” Atik said. His eyes swirled from black to brown, and Nina laughed.
“The gods abandoned you.” She pointed her blade at his chest. “They’ve removed their will from you because you are not worthy. They know you will fail.”
“I will not,” Atik said, and he charged.
Nina braced for the impact, but she was weak, her attay and her mind shattered and scrabbling to fit the pieces back together.
Her back hit the achilla altar with a crack that stole her breath.
Black spots appeared in her vision, along with Atik’s face.
His legs were a cage around her body. His hands pinned her arms to the ground.
But he was just where she wanted him. Atik’s achilla swung back and forth, suspended in the air between them like unsuspecting
prey waiting to be snatched. “You are a fool,” she spat. Little droplets of blood landed on his cheek, and she could only imagine he thought her crazed. “The gods laugh
at how easily they have been able to manipulate you.”
“Nobody manipulates me.” Atik leaned even closer, his voice low like a secret. “The one who tried got my knife in her belly, just
as you will.”
He was squeezing her to death and all Nina could do was laugh. “Aliyma couldn’t use her attay against you and still she was
able to wrap you around her finger. Just as the gods do. You have no will, Atik. Her attay could not influence you.”
It was what she had wanted to tell Master Wara. The part of his story that made no sense. If Aliyma’s power was like hers,
then Atik’s power would have silenced it. She wouldn’t have been able to hurt or control him even if she had tried. She had
truly loved him, but he hadn’t truly loved her. He wasn’t capable of it.
“Yachua lied, and you willingly killed the only person who had ever loved you.”
It was only a moment, but Atik faltered. His bruising grip on her arms lightened. A flash of doubt and fear passed over his
face. And then he moved, so suddenly that Nina flinched away, but his hands wrapped around her throat and held her down while
his elbows pinned her arms and his achilla settled into the middle of her chest, its icy fingers sinking beneath her skin.
“You lie,” he seethed, and it was truly pathetic how easily he had unraveled. How blind he had been to it all.
“I do not,” Nina rasped. Her vision pulsed with every beat of her heart.
She pushed her arms against his, wiggled her fingers closer.
All she had to do was rip the achilla from his throat and then she could use her attay to tear his soul to shreds.
“You are nothing but an empty vessel to be used however the gods see fit, and they tire of you.”
Atik’s fist slammed into her face, knocking her head to the side and stealing her vision for several terrifying moments. It
came back in spurts and spots, and she saw a hand that was not hers. A hand that she was sure was a figment of her imagination.
A hand that reached out and snatched the achilla from around Atik’s throat.