Chapter 18
My reality is shattered.
In the broken shards, I see so many versions of myself:
The August who loved following his mom around her greenhouse.
Another August, who wrote songs about a boy who left the world too soon.
The August who no longer knew how to get out of bed.
And the August who met the ferrier of souls.
Another August, who accidentally fell into the underworld and discovered powerful immortals.
Finally, the August who is one of them.
Breathless, I whisper, “It can’t be true.”
I search the room. Three faces tell me everything: Henri’s twisted and guilty. Milos’s arrogant and elated. Cary’s defeated and apologetic.
Resentment burns wild and merciless underneath my skin. It leaves my blood scalding. Steals the oxygen from my lungs.
“How is this possible?” I hiss at Cary.
His mouth pinches. “I told you. Deathless have existed forever. Generations and generations. Our power is given. And then passed on to another when we are done.”
Milos makes a disapproving noise.
I ignore him. “What does any of that have to do with me?”
Cary lets out a soft breath. “Most times, we step into our role because a previous Deathless is ready for their next journey.” His eyes roam over me. “But there was once a Deathless who chose something else.”
“What did they choose…?”
His dark gaze slides away from me. He looks at the floor. That one curl droops farther down his brow.
“The mortal realm,” he says.
My forehead wrinkles. This doesn’t make sense. I would know if I was one of them, wouldn’t I? I try my best to process everything. It’s too much.
Milos steps between Cary and me.
“The short version: She abandoned us for your world. Left behind all that makes her immortal.” His thumb smooths over the inside of my forearm. “Yet, somehow, her power lives. Faint but here. In you.”
He studies my tattoo as if seeing it for the first time.
“Narcissus. Favorite of the Deathless of life.”
I falter. “Deathless of…life?”
“Of children and the young,” Cary supplies, looking at me again. “She took care of them. Built the gardens for them.”
“And gave it all up for the love of a mortal.” Milos steps away, twirling his hand carelessly above his head, bored. “At least, that is what the old stories say.”
“And I’m…” Words catch on the roof of my mouth like taffy.
“A descendant of hers,” Henri finishes.
I’m dizzy. Nausea roils in my stomach. Me, a descendant of a Deathless. The one who cared for children. Who loved flowers and gardens.
Cary starts toward me. “August—”
“Did you know?” I ask, furious.
Remorse crowds his face. “I suspected.”
“When?”
“That first time you followed me here. On the shore.”
When I was trapped under him. A blush warms my face, but I refuse to let it distract me.
Cary watches me like the memory is playing out in his own head too. “You felt—” His hand reaches for me.
I retreat, my anger too untamed to be near him. He grimaces, then says, “You felt different.”
“I felt different,” I repeat dully.
He nods. “Then, in the great hall below. The flowers, they…they brightened for you.”
I remember. At the time, it was strange. But everything about Aides is strange to me.
“They wanted to be near you. Just like I want—” Cary stops again, eyes closing.
“You never said anything.”
Blinking, he says, “I wanted to. So many times. But…” His voice trails off.
“But what?!” I shout. Hurt flows river-deep in my voice. “Why didn’t you say anything? Why did you keep another secret from me?”
His silence stretches longer than the distance I’ve put between us.
“Because that is who he is,” Milos posits. “My brother is selfish. Comes and goes as he pleases. Never thinks about what his decisions mean to anyone else.”
Gold pops like oil from a heated pan in Cary’s eyes.
Milos grins. “This is about us, not him.”
“Us?” I rasp out.
Milos angles himself until Cary is blocked from my view. “My offer still stands. Think about it: You can finally have what you want.”
London’s name almost spills from my parted lips.
“I know about loneliness, August.” Milos rests his hand on my chest. “Being left in a world without a choice. Everyone around you doing as they desire while you are”—his eyes soften—“stuck. Waiting.”
That’s exactly what it’s like living with grief. Loneliness, even while you’re surrounded by people. Forced to watch them carry on. Death doesn’t stop the world from spinning. But it freezes you in that same singular moment, day after day.
All you can do is wait. For the wave to pass. For the ache to dull. For things to feel normal. Then it starts all over again.
“We can have what we want,” Milos whispers.
I look down at his hand still on my sternum. “And how do you get what you want?”
His smile briefly slips. He recovers.
“Through you. Descendant of the Deathless of life. The first Deathless to exist among mortals, permanently. We thought her power lost. Then you showed up.” His fingers skim delicately up my chest. Like I’m a treasure he fears losing again.
“When you commit to me, I can leave too. Only temporarily, but it is…something.”
I consider his words. My heart kicks anxiously. “What about my parents? Will I be stuck here?”
“No, no. You come and go too. We both can.” Milos gestures toward Cary. “Because of his decision, I have been trapped here. Just like you have been trapped.”
Past his shoulder, I can see Cary watching me. A hawk eyeing the rabbit.
In a soft, genuine tone, Milos adds, “You are powerful, August. We are. Together.”
Powerful.
It’s a word I’ve never associated with myself. Someone has always protected me. My mom and dad, since I was born. Max, in high school and after. London, with all his plans.
Cary, from a world that isn’t mine. But maybe it is.
This is my chance to finally protect myself. To have what Fate or destiny stole from me. To be free of grief and guilt’s crushing weight.
“Do not do this.”
Cary’s voice cuts through my thoughts. I glare at him. “Why not?”
“He is not telling you everything,” he answers. “You will lose more than you think.”
An acidic laugh bubbles up my chest. I repeat the question I asked him in my apartment: “What do you know about loss, Cary?”
“Not enough before.” His expression turns somber. “Too much now.”
It’s hard to escape the honesty, the care in those black eyes. But I do. “Can I have some time to think about this?” I ask Milos.
For a long moment, he stares at me. Then he nods.
“Anything for you, August.”
With an easy flick of his wrist, a thick cloud of smoke hovers between us. It solidifies into an elegant hourglass. His index finger twirls. The hourglass flips over. Grains of pink sand pour steadily from one end into the other.
Milos smiles darkly. “Until the sand runs out.”
It’s not Henri or Cary who escorts me away from the throne room.
It’s Aminta.
We don’t take the elevator. Instead, she leads me through a bronze door hidden at the back of the room. The winding halls are lined with burgundy wallpaper. Filigreed damask patterns shimmer under elaborately crafted lanterns. Cinnamon and smoke scent the air.
Aminta’s silent as we walk. My eyes dance to the tablet by her side. On instinct, my hand wants to snatch it. Run away with it. Find London on my own.
But do I still need the tablet?
Descendant of the Deathless of life.
Milos’s voice echoes in my head. I’m still unsure what power I have. If I have any.
The hall changes again. “Where are we?”
Aminta ignores me, her steps quickening. Soon enough, we’re cast in an amber haze outside a pair of doors I recognize. It’s the room where I put on my suit for the ball.
Where Cary danced with me.
You will lose more than you think.
His words stick to me like honey. I don’t trust Milos. At least, not completely. But he hasn’t kept any secrets from me. Not the way Cary has.
Aminta unlocks the crimson doors with her tablet, then turns to leave. “Aminta, wait,” I blurt.
Her ivy eyes narrow like she can’t believe I said her name.
“You used to be a soul, right?” I ask.
She doesn’t answer.
“And you made a deal with Milos.”
Again, she’s quiet. Her arms fold protectively around the tablet, pulling it to her chest. She’s hard to read. There’s obvious irritation pinching her features. But her cheeks suck in as she thinks.
I hold her gaze. “You know who I am, don’t you?”
Slowly, she nods.
“Can I trust Milos? Will he give me what I want?”
Something familiar flares across her face, small but noticeable. She was human once. I wonder who she left behind after dying. Are any of her loved ones here now? Have they faced Milos yet?
Would he bargain with them like he did with her?
“Tell me what to do.”
Please, I say with my eyes.
Aminta examines me. I stare back, open and honest. Finally, she steps aside, motioning toward the room.
“Wait here.”
I walk inside. “Will you help me?”
“No.”
It comes out so fast, so final, I stumble. “N-no?”
Her teeth clench. “Why would I ever help you?”
“Because…” My pulse pounds in my ears. “Because you were like me once.”
“I was never like you.”
Disgust rolls down her face. Or is it envy? I never find out. With one click, the doors close. Locking me in.
My fists pound against the doors. They’re heavy and thick, but for a split second, I think I can shatter the wood. Like maybe I really am part Deathless. That I have the same strength Cary and Milos have. But the only thing that comes is a throbbing ache in my knuckles.
“She doesn’t remember her life before becoming what she is now.”
The voice comes from behind me.
It’s Poppy leaning against the mirrored wall. She’s in a fitted black suit, glittery red petals waterfalling down one side. Poppies.
I raise my eyebrows at her, looking for more.
She shrugs. “That’s part of the deal. In order to live here, by Milos’s side, souls must first drink from Lethe. Forget everything and everyone they’ve known.”
My jaw drops. Poppy smiles sorrowfully.
“Nothing comes without a cost. Even in the afterlife.”