35. Chapter Thirty-Five
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
AGGONID
M y throat bobs as I swallow down a lump, memories flooding back of that fateful day so long ago. That decision has impacted so many lives, but at the time, I didn’t care.
Who I didn’t know, didn’t hurt me. Until it did.
“Your parents?” Emeric breathes, eyes wide with disbelief. “Everyone says you killed them in their sleep to take the throne.”
I huff out an incredulous laugh that causes Morte to stir on me. “I didn’t want the fucking throne. Never wanted the throne.”
“Aggie,” Caius whispers. “She should hear this, too.”
I take a deep breath, glancing down at our mate as I pull the sleeping magic back. He’s right.
Morte stirs against my skin, her eyelashes fluttering as she slowly wakes. I gently brush her hair back from her face as her eyes open, still hazy with sleep.
“How long have I been out?” she murmurs, voice rough. She glances around, taking in the somber expressions on everyone’s face. “What’s wrong?”
Panic soars through our bond as she sits up.
I cup her cheek, my thumb brushing over her skin. “We’re discussing how to potentially bring Azazel back,” I say softly .
Tears immediately spring to her eyes as she shoves her crimson hair out of her face. “What? Bring him back?” Her words are laced with hysteria as she looks between us.
I nod slowly and take a deep breath, steeling myself for what I'm about to reveal. "There's a way to navigate the River of Souls, to find specific souls within it. I've done it before, long ago."
Her brows pinch as she focuses on me. "You have? When? How?"
Memories flood back—memories I've kept locked away for millennia, of choices made and prices paid. But Morte deserves to know. They all do.
“It was over four thousand years ago,” I begin, toying with the cordage at my throat. “But before I tell you how, you should understand why. There were two souls I couldn’t bear to lose, should I ever find a way to bring them back again.”
Her brow furrows, and confusion clouds her eyes. “Who did you want to?—”
“My mom and dad,” I whisper.
“Because you didn’t mean to kill them?” she asks, though there is no judgment in her tone, only sorrow.
I shake my head. “It wasn’t me who killed them.”
Memories claw their way to the surface again—bright and searing, despite the millennia that have buried them. I see my mother first, kneeling beside me, her silver hair sweeping over her shoulders like starlight. Her hand cups my cheek, steady as she tilts my face up to meet her warm, red eyes. “You’re his whole world, my darling,” she murmurs, her voice a balm against the encroaching dark, an unsettled kind of feeling having dragged me to their throne room that day, interrupting their meeting. “Never forget that.”
And my father—larger than life, broad shoulders blocking the horizon as he spins me through the misty courtyard after they’d dismissed the courtiers, my laughter breaking free like a stream of light. I was far too big to be spun around by him, too old, but I suspected he’d used magic to help buoy me. He always seemed to know exactly what it was I needed. His deep rumble vibrates through me, words spoken as though they were carved into stone. “One day, you’ll understand, son. Power means nothing if it cannot protect what you love.”
The flashes splinter and fade of the last time I’d seen my parents, leaving behind a silence that wraps around my throat. I swallow hard, meeting Morte’s stare as her hand squeezes mine. My chest tightens, the ache settling deep. “I didn’t want to take their place,” I whisper. “I never wanted any of it.”
She folds her legs under her and reaches out to hold my hand. “Who killed them?”
“My sister’s mate,” Caius whispers, hanging his head.
Her mouth drops open, and I register the moment she connects the pieces in her head.
“That’s why you killed Irid’s mate. Why you made her watch?”
I drop my head back against the headboard and take a deep breath. “They wanted to steal the throne. I didn’t have the heart to kill my mate’s sister, so her punishment was watching as I killed hers.”
“And that’s why she killed you,” Emeric breathes. “Why she’d turn on you both.”
“Fuck.” Wilder whistles.
Morte's eyes fill with tears as she reaches out to cup my cheek. "Oh, Aggie, I'm so sorry. That's horrible." I bring my chin down to look at her. “So, you didn’t kill your parents for the throne. You were trying to bring them back.”
“I spent a little over three hundred years looking for their souls. Scoured every inch of the underworld until I found a way to navigate the River of Souls. It has millions of branches throughout the realm.”
“How?”
“I made a deal with the Gravewoken.”
“What kind of deal?” she asks softly.
I glance at Caius, who gives me a small nod, his tail wrapping around my thigh for reassurance. His runes pulse in a slow, muted rhythm as he also takes my other hand.
I lean into their touch, closing my eyes briefly. When I open them again, I see the compassion and understanding in her gaze.
It gives me the strength to continue .
“By the time I made the deal with the Gravewoken, Caius and I were mated. We were happy. Content together. I also knew of the prophecy I’d misinterpreted.”
“Prophecy?” Wilder turns to face me, tucking a leg under him and propping himself up with his arm.
I recite the damned parchment I’ve read thousands of times from memory.
When a virgin phoenix falls,
Her blood does hold a hidden call,
To those who taste its flaming hue,
Their bond forever true.
But not all who taste her flame,
Will feel this bond and take its name,
Only the chosen few will see,
The bond that's meant to be.
Loathing consumes one lover whole,
And he plots to take control,
He schemes to end her fate,
With a wicked, malevolent hate.
As he's distracted by this strife,
His enemies plot to take his life,
Leaving him to face the fight,
All on his own, with all his might.
“Did you make a deal about the prophecy? Did you try to change your fate?” Morte asks.
I shake my head. “No. For two souls, I had to make a sacrifice. One that would equal the weight of bringing my parents back from the river.”
“What did you sacrifice?” Morte’s eyes take on a sad, melancholic look—influenced no doubt by the grief threading through our bond.
I swallow hard, dread filling every inch of me. This could change things between us. Could make her hate me forever.
"You," I murmur, the word barely escaping my lips. It hangs between us, a whisper that seems to echo, filling the space with the depth of its truth .
Her stare hardens, confusion dancing across her expression.
Emeric stills, his eyes narrowing in my periphery.
“What the fuck does that mean?” Wilder shifts, the tension in the room heating.
Caius squeezes my hand, his tail tightening ever so slightly around my thigh, as if to remind me to continue.
"I bargained with your fate," I say, each syllable drawn out, weighted with everything I cannot undo. "I didn’t know who you were then. But the price they demanded … It had to be someone who would mean everything to me. Someone whose existence could balance out the enormity of what I asked of them."
“What the fuck did you do?” Wilder snarls, launching himself at me, but Emeric catches him mid-air and wrestles him back.
“You better speak quickly,” the hellhound grunts, straining to hold Wilder back. “What the fuck do you mean you bargained Morte’s fate ?”
Her eyes are wide, body trembling as she stares at me. “What did you do, Aggonid?” She stares at me, her breath hitching, her hands tightening in her lap. Then her lips part, but no sound escapes them. Her eyes search mine, desperation seeping in, as though looking for any sign that I might be lying.
I swallow hard, shame and regret burning in me. "I thought I could outsmart the prophecy," I continue, swallowing against the thick lump forming in my throat. "I thought I could avoid ever being bound to you, avoid this so-called fate that tied us together. I believed I could save my parents, that I could give them back the life they lost without consequence. But I didn't understand what it meant to sacrifice a soul-bonded mate, someone who ..." I trail off, trying to find words for the agony threaded throughout my every thought. “I didn’t understand what I was condemning you to.”
She closes her eyes, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. Wilder’s expression darkens, a flash of rage barreling through his mien, but Morte raises her hand, silencing him.
“What did they do to me?” she whispers, her voice fragile as glass, as though it might shatter with the answer .
My fingers tremble, and Caius’s tail wraps tighter, his runes flashing in the dark. “They tied you to the cycle of rebirth. It’s why you’re a phoenix. Why the first seven friends you ever made suffered the same fate.” I hang my head. “You weren’t just destined to rise from the ashes, Morte. You were meant to endure every death—over and over. Each time you would rise, it was with the pain of the last death, and each time, you’d rise for someone else to take from you."
Wilder’s jaw clenches, and Emeric’s attention flits between us, his face a portrait of sorrow. Morte’s eyes remain closed, her breath shuddering as she takes it in.
“They demanded the greatest sacrifice I could ever make,” I say, my words barely more than a puff of air across my lips. “That my soul bonded mate and her first seven friends would die repeatedly every time they lived. Agonizing deaths. And I agreed. I thought ... Fuck .” I shutter my eyes, unable to look at any of them. “It was the Gravewoken who gave me the nickname. Aggonid . In the old tongue it means?—”
“Agony,” she supplies quietly.
“I thought it wouldn’t matter. I thought I could avoid you entirely, that you’d be nothing more than an idea—a concept I could ignore.” Opening my eyes to look at her, I feel the sorrow radiating through our bond. “But then I met you,” I whisper, my heart pounding, my everything in me tightening with the enormity of it. “And I realized who you were. What you were. And I tried to end it before it began. I thought that if I were the one to do it, that I could end that curse I bargained for you and the prophecy at the same time.”
Her eyes snap open, glistening with tears. They burn into mine, a fate I cannot escape.
“You ... you condemned me,” she says, her voice breaking, her thousand-yard stare piercing through me. “And not just me. Noct. Sabine. Vero. Freya. Arwen. Harmony. Bow. All of them .”
“Yes.” My voice cracks under the weight of the truth I’ve carried for millennia. “I thought that if you were going to be my undoing, this would’ve stopped the prophecy from being fulfilled.”
The silence stretches, broken only by Morte’s ragged breaths. She doesn’t look away, her eyes locked onto mine, tears streaking down her cheeks, her hands trembling in her lap, her entire body quaking. Grief sails through our bond like missiles, relentless, all-consuming, and I let it, because I deserve every second of it.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” she asks, her voice so soft it barely reaches me.
“Because I was afraid.” My voice cracks, the words raw. “Afraid of losing you. Afraid that once you knew, you’d hate me—and rightfully so.”
Her head drops, her hands twisting together, and for a heartbeat, I fear the silence that follows. It stretches, each second an eternity, the weight of it suffocating me until I cannot breathe.
She looks up, her eyes meeting mine once more, and what I see there isn’t hatred—it’s torture, deep and unending, a reflection of everything I’ve done to her.
“You betrayed me before you even knew me,” she whispers. “You condemned me, Aggonid. You took my life, my choices, and turned them into currency.”
“I know.” My words barely make it past my lips, my entire body aching, my heart breaking. “And if I could undo it all, I would. But I can’t. All I can do is sit here now and promise you that I’ll do everything in my power to make this right. To free you from this. To be worthy of you, even though I don’t deserve you.”
We spent over a thousand years trying to find a vessel that would take my parents’ soul. Hundreds of thousands of bodies, and not a single one worked. But a fae more metal than male? It might. We’ve never come across one like him.
"You condemned me to countless lifetimes of pain and suffering. So, all this time ..." she whispers, her voice trembling. "All the pain, all the deaths, it was because of you? Not just me, but my closest friends, too. How could you do that?"
Shame and regret burn in me. “In my youth, I was arrogant. Thought I could outsmart fate, that I could have it all without consequence. I didn’t understand the weight of what I was doing.” Swallowing hard, I force myself to meet her ocean eyes. “I know it doesn’t change anything. In my arrogance and grief, I made a choice that I could never take back. Caius was my mate, and I didn’t want anyone else. Just like if for some gods-forsaken reason the fates wanted to give me more mates now, I’d curse them, too, because I have the two of you.” So perhaps I’m still arrogant, though I’m certainly not young.
I slide off the bed, dropping to the ground as my knees hit the cushioned rug beneath me, not caring what the others think in this moment. If I were in front of the god’s council and all the realms, I’d do it in front of them, too.
I lean forward, my forehead pressing against the mattress in a bow, my entire body quaking as I force the words from my throat. Never have I gotten on my knees for anyone. "I’m begging you for forgiveness," I whisper, each word dragging across my tongue like shards of glass. Not because I’m groveling, but because I hate what I’ve done so much, shame rides my every word. "I will spend eternity on my knees if that's what it takes to earn even a fraction of it. I will face every consequence, endure any punishment, if only you would let me have a chance to make this right."
Morte remains silent, her breaths choked, the sound of her tears falling freely. I don't dare look up. Instead, I stay there, my head against the mattress, my hands curled into fists on either side. "I know I don't deserve your mercy." I swallow. "But I need you to know—I've suffered every day since and will spend eternity doing so. It’s a punishment that I brought upon myself. I deserve every ounce of hatred you hold in your heart for me."
I lift my head, my attention rising just enough to catch her eyes, my own burning with tears. "But even with all of that," I continue, my voice cracking, "I cannot change what I did. I cannot undo what I caused. I can only promise that I will stand by you. Every lifetime, every death, every rise from the ashes, I will be there. I will fight with you. I will protect you. I will never allow anyone to hurt you again—myself included."
Morte's face crumples, a choked sound escaping her lips as her shoulders shake and tears stream down her cheeks. Her hands press against her chest, her eyes closing, and the grief that tears through our bond is agonizing. It crushes me beneath its weight, each sob wracking her frame a blow that brings me closer to breaking.
The others are on the bed now, anything to be close to her, to hold her together while she falls apart.
Caius leans forward, his tail wrapping around my arm, his other hand reaching for Morte. He murmurs something, his words lost to me, but the way he looks at her—it’s full of love, of a quiet understanding that only he could offer. He’s always been the best of us, the one who knows when words no longer suffice.
I lift myself from the ground, crawling onto the bed, inch by inch, until I’m on my knees before her. My hands shake, but I lift them, cupping her face, my thumbs brushing away her tears. “Soul Bond.” My words are both soft and raw, every ounce of vulnerability laid bare. "Let me try to be worthy of you. Let me stand by your side, as I should have from the very beginning."
She opens her eyes, the tears still clinging to her lashes. Her expression breaks something deep inside me—because it’s not anger or hatred I see there. It’s pain, grief, sorrow, a sadness so deep it drowns everything else.
"You were supposed to be my partner," she whispers, her voice cracking. "You were supposed to protect me, to love me. And instead, you traded me like I was nothing. How can I ever trust you again?"
The question twists inside me, a knife plunging deeper, and I lower my head, my forehead pressing against hers. "I don’t know." My words break. "But I will spend the rest of my life, the rest of eternity, trying to be worthy of that trust. I will never ask for forgiveness—I don't deserve it. But I swear to you, Morte, that I will fight to be the mate you need, the mate you deserve."
She closes her eyes, another tear slipping free, and she leans into my touch, her breath shaky, her agony pounding through our bond. "You hurt me, Aggie," she whispers. "You broke me in ways I don’t know if I can ever mend." The words cut deep, but it’s her next ones that twist the knife. "What else haven’t you told me? How many more of your secrets are waiting to shatter me? Az lied. You lied. How do I trust any of you now? "
I swear I feel my heart cave in. The bond between us thrums faintly—enough to remind me she’s still there, still mine, but stretched so thin it feels like a thread ready to snap.
"I know," I murmur, the words barely a breath, my heart breaking all over again. "And I am so, so sorry."
Caius moves closer, wrapping his arms around both of us, his tail curling protectively around Morte, his runes pulsing. He presses a kiss to her temple, whispering something soft, something meant only for her ears.
Whatever it takes—however long it takes—I will make this right. For her, for Caius, her other mates, for all of us. And even if I never earn her forgiveness, I will never stop trying.
For Morte, for the love I never knew I needed until it was almost too late, I would burn all the realms and rebuild it from the ashes.