35 - Iona #4
“-leaving her for last, knowing how it would destroy you. And Moira, my darling, devious, girl, bet on your fears, your mistrust, your jealousy driving you to self-destruction. I believe it was Rebekka Magnúsdóttir she chose to seduce Iona. To her credit, your beloved did not waver, but she did not need to. You were convinced of it all the same,” Xiomara says, almost ruefully.
“In truth, I’ve never seen a love so restorative as yours.
It was beautiful. Take solace in that. Some live their entire lives never experiencing anything like it. ”
Tears drip down Ariadne’s cheeks, and I try to speak through the bond, but the strain proves too much for me, and my own cries fall on deaf ears.
“With a bit of theater, we used the ‘Crone’ to terrify and overwhelm you, along with Sebastian’s gift at corrupting dreams and his hex on Samaira’s ring.
We couldn’t have her visions getting in our way, or she would have warned you of your impending death.
I hear she still managed to see aspects of it, but never enough to impede us.
” Xiomara runs a finger lightly over the inside of Ariadne’s wrist. “We drew our runes upon your skin, manipulated your bond to bring forth ruinous memories, take away time without your noticing, make you fall ill without cure. Our combined efforts seemed to be enough. You cannot say no labor was given on our part. We’ve earned this victory,” Xiomara chuckles darkly.
“All of it contrived by either us or her, the spider, though it seems she longed for the escape of death more than she wished to save you. ”
Ari, you must think hard, I plead, my head pounding. Where could they have taken you?
I don’t know. Ariadne’s thoughts are devoid of hope.
We cannot give in, I insist. There must be a way!
“I tell you all of this not to boast.” Xiomara lets out a low chuckle.
“Though I am admittedly quite proud of our achievements. I say this so you know without a shred of doubt that there was nothing you could have done to prevent it. You needn’t torture yourself over it, truly, though you will have an eternity to do so, if you insist upon it.
I hope the knowledge of your insignificance may be a comfort.
When you surrender yourself to chaos, it can be quite liberating, I find. ”
She takes a deep, cleansing breath as she basks in her blood-soaked triumph.
“Our Goddess aided us all this time, using her power to cripple Arachne’s influence just enough to allow our victory on those days of our sacrificial rituals.
” Xiomara’s voice conveys her reverence.
“I wondered… I worried that it wouldn’t be enough, but I needn’t have.
A new dawn is breaking where divine chaos will reign anew.
Mother will rule again with our Goddess at her side as we preside over humans and witches alike, for a time.
Oh, the humans…” Xiomara’s voice loses its dreamy cadence, becoming low and sinister.
“They will regret their transgressions against our kind… The hangings… the burnings… the drownings. They will suffer tenfold for what they’ve done. ”
Ariadne jerks again, her muscles screaming at her to stop. A finger drifts across her forehead, and all at once her sobs ring out as her voice is returned to her.
Make her tell you where you are! I scream through the bond.
Ariadne’s voice wavers. “You knew I blamed myself for Vivien. You let me suffer with the guilt-”
“We couldn’t very well tell you of the hex,” Xiomara says, as if she were dimwitted to even suggest such a thing. “You survived the attack, did you not?”
Ariadne gasps for air, entirely at a loss, as all her memories reform to take on new meaning.
"I won’t let them torture you, like they planned, for making this so difficult for them,” Xiomara assures her. “It will still hurt, but it will be as brief as possible. Of that, I swear.”
Ariadne laughs despite herself, laughs through her tears that flow freely now.
“You loved me at least?” Ariadne asks, surprising me and herself with the question.
“I do not know,” Xiomara muses. “I would say yes, but not nearly as much as my beloved daughters.”
“And not enough to save me,” Ariadne says with bitterness.
“No, dearest. You were never meant to exist but worry not. Eris swore she would find a place for your soul to rest,” Xiomara says.
Eris. My heart nearly stops at hearing her name, remembering it from the book Ksenia had tossed to me in her room. It was the first page I’d opened to, detailing the many attributes of The Goddess of Discord, the harbinger of chaos.
You must keep her distracted. Ask more questions, I encourage, but Ariadne is overtaken by a chilling sense of calm, her terror leaving her exhausted.
“I could never find true rest without Iona,” Ariadne finally says.
There is a brief silence, until Xiomara says, “Then I shall bring her to you soon.”
Ariadne shakes her head violently. “No, that is not- No, don’t hurt her! Please!”
“She will die. We only healed her so she might deal the final crushing blow. With that purpose fulfilled, she remains the only one left alive who could wield the pendant. We cannot allow her to live and interfere with our plans. And in that endeavor, I regret I cannot protect her. Moira has… rather gruesome plans for her,” Xiomara says, with something like sympathy.
“Marina lost her, but I expect it to be quite simple to recapture her. Iona is too prim, too weak to be any real threat, especially without you or Arachne protecting her. Soon she will be freed of life. Your souls can live out eternity together and none of this need be your concern anymore.”
I can hardly hear Xiomara’s words over Ariadne’s unintelligible screams.
“No! No!” She cries, trying in vain to move. “You cannot do this!”
“Shhh,” Xiomara hushes her, running a hand through Ariadne’s hair. “It will all be over soon.”
“Stop coddling her.”
Ariadne’s cries are cut short at the sound of her mother’s foul voice. Or rather, Cintia’s.
“You weren’t wanted. A dispensable soul. A parasite to be excised. Nothing more.” Cintia’s sneer is audible in her tone. “Now be quiet and die with dignity. I’ve waited long, insufferable decades for this day. Let’s get on with it.”
“I suppose it is time,” Xiomara says, and rises from her seat on the rock.
Do not let her walk away! I urge.
“What does the ritual entail?” Ariadne asks, struggling to speak through her staggered breathing.
“I wonder if telling you would only add to your suffering,” Xiomara muses.
“I wish to know,” Ariadne says.
“…Very well,” Xiomara says, with reluctance. “It will be taxing for us both, as I must pierce your consciousness to excavate your soul and send it on its way. You will doubtless try to resist the spell, so it could take hours.”
Ariadne trembles, her mind reeling. “You said it would be brief.”
“Far more so than the weeks of torture they devised for you,” Xiomara says, and a shiver runs down Ariadne’s spine.
Beg for your sight! Keep them speaking for any hint they let slip could be our salvation, I insist. Perhaps there’s some spell that could… I won’t stop-
“What if I didn’t fight it?” Ariadne asks.
Cintia snorts. “That would be the day.”
“If I did not try to outlast you, if I made it easy for you, would you still kill Iona?” Ariadne asks.
Ari, don’t! Please!
“Of course, we must kill her,” Moira says, making her presence known. “You’ve no say in the matter, mongrel.”
“She will die regardless,” Xiomara agrees.
Ariadne hesitates, then says, “Would you swear not to torture her then, at least.”
“She’s stalling,” Moira says. “I will do as I wish to that sniveling little-”
“If I swear Iona will feel no pain, you will go willingly?” Xiomara asks, with slight incredulity.
“Yes,” Ariadne says.
Don’t you dare do this, Ariadne! You must resist them until the very end! I protest.
I won’t let them hurt you, Ariadne vows.
What use are their promises when all they do is lie? I try to reason with her, but her stubbornness prevails.
“I grow tired of this,” Sebastian says with a yawn. “If it will expedite the ritual, then I see no harm in such an agreement, so long as the Lysander witch is slain. Moira can have her fun elsewhere.”
“I’m never allowed to have any fun,” Moira whines, then sighs. “Very well.”
Xiomara places a hand on Ariadne’s shoulder, and she wishes she could squirm away from it. “I swear on Eris’ name-”
“No,” Ariadne interrupts. “That means nothing to me. Swear by the river Styx.”
There is a prolonged silence.
What difference does it make what they swear by? I ask. It will be a lie.
Not if they swear on Styx. It is a binding oath beyond even a God’s ability to break or risk the destruction of their entire bloodline, Ariadne explains.
Finally, Xiomara speaks. “I swear by the river Styx, Iona will not suffer by our hand. Her death shall be swift.”
“Then I won’t fight it,” Ariadne’s voice breaks.
Please, I weep. Don’t leave me. Don’t let them-
I will find you in the afterlife, Ariadne promises.
What of those we would leave behind? I ask, and Ariadne doesn’t respond.
“Heavens above, if I knew a pretty face would sway her this easily, I would have raised her in a brothel and saved myself the trouble,” Cintia cackles and Moira joins in.
You must fight back! You must call out for help! I beg. Someone may hear you and-
Listen to me, Iona.
No, I shan’t. You’re giving in! You’re a damned coward!
Hate me if you must but listen. You cannot trust anyone.
If they stole Rebekka’s blood, they could very well have anyone else’s.
No one is safe, do you understand? You must hide as your parents did, hide until this is all resolved somehow…
I know not how. I only know that you are no match for them all. Neither of us were.
A pitiful whine makes Ariadne pause in her beseeching, then grit her teeth at a subsequent yelp as someone kicks at the metal bars of a cage.
“Can’t we kill the mutt now?” Moira asks. “I tire of his incessant whimpers.”
“If you’d like, dearest,” Xiomara says distractedly.
“Let him go!” Ariadne screams, flinching at the sound of Aster’s cries as Moira opens the cage and drags him out.
“Consider this a preview of your imminent demise,” Moira says with deranged glee.
But her laughter is cut short when she cries out in agony, Aster growls, and all the witches make appalled noises as the wolf releases Moira and flees. His heavy breaths grow louder as he approaches.
“No!” Ariadne yells. “Go! Run! Get away!”
Aster hesitates, making a small whine, but Ariadne screams at him to go, and to our collective shock, he obeys.
“Don’t let him escape!” Zephyra cries.
There are terribly loud noises that Ariadne cannot decipher, implying the use of all kinds of magic to trap or kill the wolf, until at once there’s silence again, and Moira sighs.
“It matters not,” she says petulantly. “We’ll hunt him down later…”
“Let me see your hand,” Xiomara says.
“I am fine, Mother,” Moira snaps.
“The stars are silent,” Marina says with a mourning lilt to her dulcet voice.
“Who cares about the bloody stars?” Moira rages. “We’ve more important business.”
“Indeed,” Sebastian agrees. “Shall we begin?”
Xiomara clears her throat, then goes to stand at the top of the slab of rock, placing a hand on either side of Ariadne’s head. “Remain calm.”
But Ariadne’s heartbeat races, her breathing coming in short, staccato gasps.
“Take up your spoils, and may our voices ring,” Xiomara says.
The awful wet sounds of fleshy organs being handled makes Ariadne’s stomach turn, imagining them dripping with clotted blood and bile. Footsteps tap on the rock as the coven takes their places around them, readying themselves for the ritual.
There’s still time . I know it’s a lie. We… We can find a way.
I’m frozen in place, unsure if I should stay with Ariadne a moment longer in the vain hope of determining where she could be or leaving her so I might turn the earth over in search of her, but I do not know where to begin, except to traverse every coastline, but there is no time.
I never feared death until I knew you… Isn’t that worst of all? They should have done this before… before I loved you. I may have welcomed it.
Please don’t speak this way. I become conscious of my body again for a moment, the strain of my every muscle, as I sob with her. You must fight! You must-
I killed her… Ariadne’s thought is but a whisper. I… I am just like them. I am a killer. This is what I deserve.
Ari, no! You’re not-
The awful earsplitting cries of the Zerynthos witches makes Ariadne flinch, unable to cover her ears against it, unable to run. Visceral, head splitting pain emanates from the tips of Xiomara’s fingers where she gently holds Ariadne’s head in place.
Forgive me, Ariadne pleads. I… wasn’t strong enough.
I tremble as she screams from the blinding pain that eviscerates her. I will find you… I will…
Then the pain reaches me, and all the words I wish to say are forgotten. I scream as molten fire runs up my veins, permeating my organs, radiating through my skull.
“Iona!” Samaira shakes me. “Iona, what’s happening?”
“This is worse than I feared…” Hecate whispers.
“Why?” Samaira asks, holding me close as I shudder in the throes of unimaginable torment.
I try to speak, but I cannot form words beyond my screams.
“Oh no,” Samaira whispers, with grave recognition. “Help her! Bring her back!”
But Hecate leaves me to suffer, for she must know that I wish to stay within Ariadne’s mind and could never abandon her to die alone.
It is like sinking into a pool of boiling water, scalding my skin, searing my insides, until the pain becomes so heightened that my screams, and Ariadne’s, grow silent, the agony too acute to process. All I can do is wallow in it.
A memory resurfaces of Ariadne lying on the beach with me beside her, during our Yule holiday, when she’d turned to look at me and I’d smiled at her, my eyes sparkling in the sunlight.
I’d long forgotten it, hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but Ariadne cherishes the memory beyond what I’d ever realized, a crystallized moment in time.
It is how she sees me, how she will remember me while she awaits our reunion.
Ariadne’s thoughts drift as she slowly fades, slipping away.
I love you. I vow.
Her heartbeat slows, a decelerating tempo, each beat taking longer than the last, until she releases her final breath. You are my love.
The most primal, vital part of me shatters as her soul is torn away, leaving me all alone.
“No!” I scream. “No… no… no…”
I collapse into the soft grass with Samaira holding me, questioning me, but I cannot speak. I cannot move. I cannot do anything at all, now that my love is gone.