Chapter 1 ALL THE LIGHT IS GONE
ALL THE LIGHT IS GONE
Marina
The Present
Marina’s final moment with her father was this:
The bright cluster of his halo glittered over his dark hair. His hand swept a gentle caress across her cheek, and an endless affection permeated from his gaze as he acknowledged her.
“Marina, I forgive you.”
They were alone, just the two of them, in a grove of elms outside the gates of the Land of the Dead. The others had not arrived yet. Though, several figures in marble cloaks appeared in her periphery. The Errai kept their distance, awaiting the arrival of their ruler.
Marina was ashamed of herself for hiding her face in her palms, weeping, unable to reply to him. In the dusk of their remaining time, she did not wish to look at him in his ethereal, soul-bound form. Anger struck in her chest, penitent for all the times she took him for granted.
Sorrow filled her heart, callous and cruel, unforgiving for what she had done to him.
“Marina,” her father repeated, patient and so, so gentle.
It sickened her.
She shook her head, refusing to lift her swollen, tear-stained face. “I cannot—” She choked on the sobs catching in her throat. “Why do you not yell at me? Profess your disappointment in me? Facing your disdain would be easier than this. I-I murdered you!” She spat out the words in horror.
Father grabbed onto her arms and yanked her into his embrace.
She gasped, stunned by the floral cloud of his warmth.
Volatile emotions welled in her chest, like a ravine threatening to burst.
For the first time since her days as a child, he was hugging her.
She sank into his hold, throwing her arms around him in useless desperation. “I-I am s-sorry,” she cried louder, her teeth chattering. “I am s-so sorry for what I’ve d-done.”
Father rocked her in a tranquil rhythm, caressing the back of her hair. “I have failed you, Marina, and for that I apologize. It is I who must ask for your forgiveness.”
Marina dug her fingers into the front of his olive robe, the tears and snot that drained down her face sticking to him.
Impossible.
Why didn’t Marina ever try harder to walk in the path of his light?
The eternal road of her life stretched out before her with only a heavy weight to bear in her body. A time to dwell in all the years lost, never able to live out her distant, perished dream of laughing alongside him as someone other than a stranger across the table.
“I do not wish to live any longer.” She squeezed him harder, as if the Land would snatch him away just as it did when Finnian held him earlier. Her breath ran in and out, unstable and burning. “Take me with you. There is nothing left for me here.”
Father held her tighter, his grip fastening her cheek over his heart—an organ that no longer cupped life within its walls. “If you have nothing left to live for, then allow me to give you something. Make me a promise, Marina.”
She blinked through the bite of her tears, listening closely. “Anything.” Her hope flourished, eager to grasp onto a lifeline.
Father guided her by the side of her face to look up at him. His eyes glistened, the same dark shade as her own. “Protect Ash. Allow him to grow up and experience the love neither I nor your mother were ever able to fully give you.”
The love of a family.
A fresh wave of tears filled her eyes, and she slacked against his hands, the agony in her chest too much to hold.
Father’s lips pressed against her forehead. “I love you, my darling magnolia.”
She pursed her trembling frown, silencing her woes.
Birdsong played amongst the tall, mystic wisteria surrounding them. A light breeze touched the damp skin of her cheeks. Her mind stilled and her senses sharpened, as if a part of her understood the brevity of this moment.
Years later, when grief threatened to drown her, she would look back on it and remember every detail. The hymn of the healing earth, the sweet scent of honeysuckle on Father’s robes, the engraving of his soul leaving its mark on her.
She could not reverse what she’d done, but she could spend her life in the suffering she deserved, atoning.
“I love you, Father.” The words left her without restraint, as easy as an exhale. Why did she never say them until now?
“Trust yourself, and carve your own path, darling, instead of the one others demand of you,” Father said. “That is all I have ever wished for you.”
She finally understood.
For centuries, she’d walked the path of her mother, breeding a cycle of greed and malice. This was her chance to choose, with her own volition, and carry herself in the love he left behind.
His vow stood before her, waiting for her to grab it.
Marina placed her palm on his scruffy cheek, memorizing the baby’s breath decorating his hair, the calming waves of his presence—her final frame of him, glorious and glistening, without the sallow shell of his skin.
“I promise. I will protect Ash.”
Hours later, and it was all still fresh behind her swollen eyes: Finnian engulfed by her shadows, the fear in his sharp gaze draining away and replaced by devastation the second she called out Father.
She regretted not listening to the confusion that twisted her insides before plunging the needle straight for Finnian’s heart. That second of doubt that pleaded for her to stop and locate the source of dread on her youngest brother’s face. A god who, like her, rarely showed such a thing.
Marina clenched her hand into a fist, her long nails breaking the skin of her palm. She could still feel the resistance when the syringe punctured Father’s flesh. It haunted her tendons, pulsed white-hot panic into her bloodstream all over again.
I murdered him.
Marina inhaled a breath through tight lungs and peered up at the ripples in the sea-sky trailing behind a stingray. Clouds of fish floated in its wake like a murmuration of starlings, disappearing into the long stalks of the kelp forest. Rays of sunlight shimmered through their swaying strands.
She wanted to scream at the beauty of it all.
Do you see how even the light is capable of piercing through so many layers?
Her heart pinched.
She could see the memory in the billowing golden rays—standing beside him, small and young, filled with a painful longing to earn his affection. He was tall and dignified, pointing up at the sea-sky through the streaks of brassy sunlight shining over his face.
Darkness never lasts, my darling magnolia.
She’d stared up at him in awe, hanging on to every word he said.
And back then, like a fool, she’d believed him. Parched for a love she never deserved.
Marina wanted to reach into her younger self and yank that feeling out, like an iris bulb—that incessant yearning for her father to love her the way he did Naia. Without it, he might still be alive.
An ache split behind her sternum, deep as the earth.
She unclenched her fists. Fatigue pulled at her limbs as she turned to the solid door framed by sandstone. It led underground to the most desolate prison of the palace.
Two guards stood at its entrance in crisp beige suits. It was odd to see them in anything but their flowing attire and golden chains. New ruler, new uniform, she supposed.
Outfits were one of the many unyielding changes that Freya had made since becoming the High Goddess of the Sea.
The servants skipped around and smiled, rather than walking to their destination with a frightened professionalism.
Villagers visited more often now that the imperial gates remained open.
Mother’s garden was excavated and turned into an additional courtyard.
The south wing of the palace, Father’s domain that had been isolated since his imprisonment, was renovated into a magnificent, multi-story library.
Nothing was the same.
Why did I come here?
Perhaps to seek validation from a mother who would undoubtedly praise her for killing Father, as if it would somehow wrench out the guilt still lodged in Marina’s chest.
Or to simply crumble in the arms of the only one who ever made her feel safe, regardless if it had been centuries since Mother provided such comfort. Those stamps of her childhood still gleamed with possibility.
Though, it was a ridiculous thing to hope for, given the state Mother was in from Finnian’s hex, seizing in episodes that left her incapacitated.
What now?
Marina sighed, the effort it took to breathe exhausting her energy.
She faced away from the doors. She did not come here to see her mother.
Kaimana was the only connection to him she had left.
Nausea filled her stomach.
She swallowed.
He was everywhere there—in the grass, the trees, the air.
She squinted up into the bright sunlight. It flushed her chilled skin, despite every molecule within her screaming to look away.
A school of fish waded through the waters, leaving behind a trail of bubbles in their wake. Marina kept her eyes on that swirling path, the rupturing pockets of air.
Just like that.
I will never see him again.
Her eyes fell shut, pushing tears down her dry cheeks still coated with ash and soot from the Land of the Dead.
I do not wish to be here anymore.
A slow anguish floated through her, collecting in her depths, packing like dirt in rain.
If you have nothing left to live for, then allow me to give you something.
Her eyes opened and she gave one final look to the turquoise doors separating her from her mother.
I promise.
The vow branded deep in her soul. One that she could not ignore, a murmur in her mind, a strum of something vital in her chest, stirring and unsettled. She could not rest until she saw it through.
I will finish this.
The sun’s rays glared brighter on the side of her face, a cruel warmth she could never have.
“Darkness may not last forever for others,” she said, her voice dull and lifeless. Shadows crawled up from the sand and coiled around her. “But I am made of the night.”
Onyx tendrils whorled over her head, like a flower closing its petals at dusk, and swallowed her whole.