Chapter Five
I’ve heard terrible rumours of what it means for a God-Killer to be created.
I’ve heard what it does to the one that becomes it.
They must give up a part of themselves—who they were, the goodness in them—to this ancient thing that takes over and corrupts their mind until there is nothing left of the person they once were.
It is ancient magic.
One that must never be used.
Tabitha Wysteria
Mal glanced down at the gentle swell of her stomach, one hand tracing idle circles across it as she hummed softly to herself.
A few servants had slipped into her chambers earlier that night to stoke the blue wyverian fire, its ghostly flames casting rippling shadows along the stone walls.
She had never cared much for the heat, but Ash would surely perish in the bitter chill of wyverian air.
Her gowns had been altered again, seams stretched and fabric loosened to accommodate her growing form. Soon enough, she suspected even movement would become a trial; the thought of wielding a blade again felt almost laughable.
‘You ought to get rid of it,’ said the voice.
Mal’s eyes lifted to the mirror, settling upon the figure standing in the centre of her chamber.
The creature had first spoken within her mind, whispering in the wake of her brother’s death, when her power had torn itself awake from the depths.
Its voice—ancient, mournful, born of millennia steeped in despair—had once comforted her.
It had bound itself to her soul, reshaping her into the God-Killer.
But now the voice had taken form.
It no longer dwelt inside her. It walked.
The figure before her was her likeness, yet not entirely.
To see herself pacing the room was a grotesque sort of mirror, one subtly twisted, her reflection made wicked.
The runes that marked Mal’s fingers and arms now crawled across the doppelg?nger’s entire body, coiling even across the face, the black ink bleeding into the purple of her eyes until they were almost swallowed whole by darkness.
‘And why would I do that?’ Mal said, forcing her attention back to the curve of her stomach, willing herself to ignore the presence lingering behind her. The presence no one else knew of. The one she had kept hidden from every soul she loved.
‘Because it will be the end of you,’ the creature replied. ‘You fancied yourself the chosen one, but you were wrong. She will be the chosen one. Your daughter will rise and she will be the one to end you.’
Mal’s body went rigid.
‘And your husband will help her.’
‘Ash loves me,’ Mal said, her voice tight.
The creature snorted, a sound sharp with mockery. ‘He loves you because the curse compels him. He is bound to you in a cruel little game crafted by capricious gods. But it isn’t real. None of it is real.’
‘Be silent!’ Mal spun, teeth clenched. ‘What do you want from me?’
‘I want him gone,’ the creature said simply. ‘Ash complicates everything. That thread of love binding you together will never allow you to become…’ It paused, considering. ‘To rise to your full potential.’
‘What are you?’
‘I am you, and you are I.’
Mal frowned. ‘What does that even mean?’
A sigh slipped from the creature’s lips. ‘It means we are the same, two halves of a single creation. I came into being the moment you awakened as the God-Killer, but…’
‘But?’
‘You are resisting the full transition.’ The creature’s smile stretched, wicked and unsettling, sending a prickle up Mal’s spine. ‘I am the destroyer of worlds, of gods. And when you finally embrace what you are, what we are, and allow us to become one…’
‘I will not.’
The thing wearing her face only smiled wider. ‘You will, Mal Blackburn. Your despair will devour you long before I must. And that child…’ its almost black eyes drifted to her stomach, ‘that child will be your undoing.’
Mal turned away from the spectre that haunted her steps. It was always there, lurking in corners, pacing within shadows. And sometimes, when it sensed her sorrow or fear, it would laugh.
‘What happens if Ash leaves me?’ Mal whispered so softly she almost convinced herself the creature would not hear.
But of course, it did.
It cackled, a sound like splintering glass.
‘When he abandons you, you and I shall reign the world.’
Mal shook her head fiercely. ‘I refuse to rule anything.’
‘Why?’ it questioned. ‘When we are finally one, you will possess the strength to unmake the Eight Kingdoms and topple every god who ever breathed. You could fashion a new world or a thousand, if it pleased you.’
‘I want this world,’ Mal said.
‘This world stole your siblings from you.’
Her breath caught; her body went rigid. She felt it draw nearer, step by step, until its cold breath grazed the back of her neck.
‘They have taken everything from you,’ it whispered.
‘Not everything,’ Mal answered, her hands tightening protectively over her stomach.
The presence chuckled, low and cruel, and slipped away, melting into the shadows as though it had never been.
‘For now, Mal Blackburn,’ it purred, before dissolving completely from sight.
…
Ash found his wife seated in the great hall, her attention fixed upon the windowless arches, listening to the distant roar of wyverns echoing across the mountains.
For a moment he simply stood there, arrested by the sheer majesty of her presence—so regal, so unyieldingly strong.
She was tall, nearly his height, as many wyverian women were.
Her skin held the pallor of death, and her long wild hair framed her like a dark, windswept crown.
And those eyes…
‘Don’t linger,’ she said, her back still turned, though she always sensed when he was near. Ash smiled and crossed to her, resting a warm hand on her shoulder before leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her cheek. His attention drifted to her stomach, unmistakably round with life.
‘We ought to leave for your uncle’s in a few d-days,’ he said. ‘I’ve a-arranged for the ser-servants to depart in the mor-morning after we de-depart. And I’ve a-also arranged for your mo-mother to come with us.’
Mal frowned, lifting her eyes to his. ‘My mother?’
‘It is not safe for a-anyone to remain here,’ Ash replied. ‘Persephone will s-seek vengeance, and this will be the f-first place she strikes.’
‘Then why hasn’t she already?’
Ash let out a quiet breath. ‘I imagine we have Thanatos to th-thank for that.’
Mal stiffened as she always did whenever Ash spoke the name of Death.
And he longed, then, to tell her the truth: that he had known from the very moment she had plunged that dagger into his heart who she truly was.
He had known exactly what Thanatos meant to her and what they had been to one another.
‘Do you think me evil?’ she asked abruptly.
Ash crossed to one of the carved stone chairs and lowered himself onto it, leaning forward to take Mal’s hand in both of his, stroking her fingers with gentle insistence.
‘No,’ he said softly. ‘I do not.’
He could not help but hold her gaze—those purple eyes of hers, wandering the hall with a troubled restlessness before fastening on some distant point only she could see. She had been doing that more and more lately, as though glimpsing a world invisible to everyone else.
‘I feel…’ She faltered, frustration tightening her jaw. ‘I feel so much anger, Ash. Towards them. They took Haven from me. And Kage.’ Tears welled, bright and sudden. ‘My mother is barely clinging to life. I don’t know where Kai is, and my father is gods-knows-where, trying to rally an army.’
‘Kai is safe,’ he whispered.
Mal nodded, though her lip trembled, a single tear slipping free. ‘I want to—’
‘To what?’ Ash cupped her face with all the tenderness he possessed.
‘I want revenge. But I don’t want to become…’
‘The God-Killer?’
She nodded.
Ash exhaled, long and weary. ‘Mal, you are already the God-Killer. But you c-can—’
‘Can what?’ Her voice sharpened; her features hardened. ‘You know what awaits me. You know how this ends.’
Ash gave a small nod.
‘You told me what is to come and I—’ She broke off. Their gazes caught; her purple eyes dark and cursed, his golden ones burdened with hope he scarcely dared to hold.
‘I don’t want the future you described,’ she said at last.
‘It is the only w-way.’
Mal tore her hand from his and surged to her feet, a curse ripping from her throat.
‘Then find another way!’ she roared. Her eyes flared, the violet bleeding into black.
Ash remained still, watching with quiet dread as the thing she had become, and the thing she feared she would become, surged closer to the surface.
He knew she had not yet fully transformed; the presence she glimpsed in corners and shadows had begun to take shape apart from her.
‘Our d-daughter will end the curse,’ he said softly.
Mal stared at him, every muscle locked tight. And for the first time, Ash felt the faint chill of fear coil within him, fear of the woman he loved.
‘By ending me,’ she whispered, before turning on her heel and storming out, the great doors slamming in her wake.