Chapter Thirty-Six #2
Demons rise, climbing to their feet.
“Ves!” Vaelyn’s voice rings out, but I can’t tear my eyes away from the ashes. “Ves, what have you done?”
Rolling onto my back, I cover my face with my hands.
I did it.
Netharis is dead.
Lowering my hands, a scroll hovers above me.
My contract.
Around the room, hundreds of scrolls hang over the heads of demons, Vaelyn included. Shocked whispers rise and many shift uncomfortably, moving away from the looming parchment. Others snatch their contracts out of the air.
One by one, the scrolls burst into flame…
Turning to ash faster than Netharis did.
Laughter bubbles in my chest, and clamping my hands over my mouth doesn’t stop it. Too many emotions roll and toil along with the sound of my desperate, broken laughter.
It’s the sound of a demon who’s lost her sanity.
The gravity of the last few weeks crashes upon me and my laughter transforms into miserable, chest-heaving sobs. The vaulted ceiling becomes a blurred mess of black and crimson.
I should be rejoicing.
I’ve done something even the gods wouldn’t dare.
But my heart remains in the living realm, in the hands of a dark-haired fae. And the thought of never seeing him again—
Hands grab my shoulders, pulling me upright and Vaelyn comes into view.
“I love him.” My words are a shuddering, sobbing mess.
“Of course you did,” Vaelyn says, clutching me in an embrace. “We all loved him.”
My sobs deepen.
No.
Not Netharis.
“Barkoz, Siral, help me!” Vaelyn’s powerful voice commands. “Get Vestaris out of here!”
Before long, more hands are upon me, lifting me, cradling me against someone’s chest.
It’s not the chest I want to be cradled against and my sobs break harder.
It’s over.
Netharis will no longer torment me.
But centuries of tormenting myself lie ahead.
?????????????
Standing on the balcony of the library, I stare blankly at the terrain.
Nothing interesting catches my attention. It never has here.
All of my focus turns inward as a result.
Today is the first day in weeks I’ve left the confined darkness of my bedroom.
I’ve no desire to be seen or to see anyone.
I’ve never been this alone, never felt this alone—my innate remains silent still, as if it’d never existed.
Another piece of me stolen.
And like all the other pieces, I don’t know why.
When Vaelyn came to visit, as he has numerous times over the last few weeks, he was surprised I asked him to bring me here.
I haven’t spoken to anyone since that night. Including Vaelyn.
The hells have been left a dangerous mess.
Archdemons seek to fill the vacuum created by Kassil’s death, Houses demand renewed contracts, and demons cry for me to ascend as the goddess of death.
I refuse.
I want nothing to do with the hells.
I’m as much a prisoner as the contracted souls Netharis has collected.
Why would anyone believe I would be interested in ruling the hells?
My siblings, now led by Vaelyn, are doing their best to address the destruction and chaos I’ve sown.
I do not envy them.
I do not envy Vaelyn.
During his visits, I’d stare out my bedroom window while he spoke.
He gave me updates on the progression of re-establishing the hells.
Things I couldn’t care less about.
The hells be damned.
My mind wouldn’t stop replaying the last moments in the temple—I couldn’t stop seeing Ryc’s eyes.
The pain and fear continues to cause a gaping, dark hole in my chest.
And when I sleep, it grows.
Foolishly, selfishly, I tried to reach out to him through our bond—even though I had witnessed our bond break.
The severed link left me feeling hollow and incomplete.
I hate that I miss him as much as I do.
I hate it hurts as much as it does.
A hand touches my left arm, and my eyes finally focus on the terrain.
I blink slowly, turning my gaze to the hand upon me.
“Ves,” Ylara says softly, a small smile on her face. “Vaelyn would like to see you in the study.”
Giving her a weak smile, I nod.
It must be because he wants to give me another update about the hells.
I should be overjoyed with the fact Ylara has been released from her imprisonment. I should be celebrating my victory over Netharis.
But I want nothing more than to be left alone for the rest of my existence—to wither, to mourn, to process.
Taking my hand, Ylara ferries us outside Netharis’ study.
It doesn’t matter Netharis no longer exists, it will forever be his study.
Ylara squeezes my arm gently in a reassuring gesture before vanishing in a swirl of darkness.
The guards standing either side of the doors swing them open, and for a moment, my mind is brought back to a different place, a different time, a different realm.
One where Ryc stands beside me, my arm in his, and we’re dressed in the same deep colors as the universe. Tearing my gaze upward, I blink against the tears that threaten to fall. I’m surprised I have any tears left.
Entering the room, Vaelyn rises from the seat at Netharis’ desk.
At the same time, a tall woman rises from the seat on my left.
No, not woman.
Nyraphim.
And not simply any nyraphim—
Draped in white and gold, she dons six sets of wings with brilliant white feathers. They emerge from her back, folded tightly against her. She would be terrifying to behold if she weren’t so beautiful.
“Vestaris.” She smiles.
Her smile is warm as if we’re long standing friends.
I’ve never seen this goddess in my life.
My brow creases as our eyes meet and the gaping, dark hole in my chest is ripped wide.
Her golden amber eyes are the same shade as Ryc’s.
My hands fly to my heart, an attempt to hold myself together.
Gods, looking at her hurts unlike anything I’ve ever known.
So much pain.
That’s all I ever feel anymore.
Swallowing hard, I find my voice.
“Gaia.” I bow my head in respect, lowering my gaze to the floor.
Her laughter resonates within me, reminding me of a flowing river, powerful and beautiful.
“Forgive me,” she laughs, “I’m not used to being greeted with respect by those associated with death.”
I keep my eyes lowered.
If I look into her eyes again, I will be reduced to tears. The last thing I want to do is break down in front of this goddess.
“Vaelyn informs me you’re not taking up the reins as the goddess of death,” she says, her voice soothing.
I nod.
“Not only is it your birthright, I don’t believe anyone would argue against you taking that power,” she continues. “You’ve more than proven yourself capable.”
“It’s yours if you want it, Ves,” Vaelyn encourages softly.
My eyes dart to him, his lips pressing into a fine line.
“The hells have been without a ruler for weeks, and things are starting to decay,” Vaelyn says, his gaze meeting mine. “Balance needs to be restored or we place the entire realm at risk.”
I release a long sigh. A habit I’d developed in the living realm I’ve yet to break.
“I don’t want it,” I whisper, staring at my brother as I shake my head. “I don’t want to be bound to the hells, Vaelyn.” My voice breaks.
Hurt flashes through his eyes, but his face remains unmoved.
He’s so much like Netharis in so many little ways.
Gaia nods. “Vestaris, once the decision has been made, it cannot be unmade,” she says softly.
Turning, I meet her gaze, even though it kills me to do so. “I know.”
She shifts her eyes—the ones that make me want to curl up into a ball on the floor—to look at my brother.
“Vaelyn, are you up to the task? Will you become the god of death?”
The question lingers in the air between the three of us.
I close my eyes.
I already know his answer.
It’s what he’s spent a thousand years preparing for—this impossible moment that would have never come to pass if our father had his way.
“I am, and I shall,” he answers firmly.
“Then so it shall be,” Gaia says and a small ripple runs down my spine, causing me to shiver. “It will take time for you to grow into your new role, Vaelyn. I advise you to devise a council to assist you until you feel confident enough.”
At this, I open my eyes and find both Vaelyn and Gaia staring at me.
“Will you join me?” she asks, gesturing to the seat beside her.
Her eyes glimmer with her soft smile.
Stammering, I nod. “Of course.”
I’d assumed we were finished.
The hells now have a new god of death to oversee its care and operation, and I can return to the library. What more could be needed?
Crossing the room to the upholstered chair, I seat myself beside her. She sits on the edge of the seat, accommodating her wings and I’m reminded of yet another loss.
My wings.
Without my innate, the glamour I’d placed on my wings remains there. Without my innate, I’ll never see my wings again. A sharp pang of mourning rips through my core.
“I have a proposition,” Gaia says, her eyes volleying between me and Vaelyn. “One I’d like to offer without a contract, without strings.”
Despite her warning, I can’t stop the sinking notion in my stomach. Too many centuries of propositions with contracts and strings has left scars upon me.
“There is a very demanding demi-god in Ollora who is quite insistent Vestaris Moonshadow be returned to the living realm.” Her lips curl with a playful smile.
The stillness in my chest doesn’t reflect the sudden burst of hope that fills it.
“Is that even possible?” Vaelyn asks, his brows raising as he leans forward in his seat.
“Of course it is,” Gaia chirps, turning her attention to Vaelyn. “I cannot deny her impact upon the living realm. You may not know her feats during her time there, but I do.”
Vaelyn’s eyes dart to mine and I return his stare with a confused glance. I honestly don’t know what feats she’s talking about.
“I need you to understand, should you die, it will be a final death. You will be mortal. Truly, mortal. With your contract broken, you will not return to the hells as you currently are, Vestaris,” Gaia says, and my head swivels to her. “Is returning to the living realm what you want?”
I would have shouted the answer before she finished her sentence had I not clamped my jaw shut to keep from doing exactly that.
I hold no reservations about my answer.
I want to see Ryc, Eve, Lilith, perhaps even Cyran…
I want to live with them.
Love them.
Experience life with them.
The voice in my mind screams the answer, but my voice is a breathy whisper. “Yes.”