37 - Iona #3
“Do as you will,” I say, my voice devoid of emotion. “But hinder me in any way-”
“I shan’t,” Ksenia swears.
With a terse nod, I craft a portal to Rome, and the sight of the Villa Mitriora has Ksenia gasping and gripping my arm to hold me back.
“Are you mad?” she cries. “Surely you cannot mean to…”
Calmly, I glance down at her hands, then up into her panic-stricken eyes, and she recoils at the apparent menace in my gaze.
Once she’s released my arm, I step through the portal. “Bring Aster.”
The windows are dark, the street empty in all directions, and it’s as I suspected. They’ve abandoned the villa. They’ve no further use for it. It was merely their chosen stage.
Behind me, Ksenia conjures a gilded cage around Aster’s sleeping form and casts a spell to have it float through the opened portal.
When she’s stepped through, I close it and bring my eyes back to the manor, with its pristine marble steps, smooth white columns, and the wooden door left ajar, hanging off its hinges and swaying back and forth on the wind.
“They’ve gone,” Ksenia says.
“Neither are they in Constantinople, and I’d venture to guess they’ve left Thessaly as well,” I say. “We will need to find them, eventually. Or perhaps they will find us.”
“Why then are we here?” Ksenia asks.
“You are right,” I say. “I cannot do this alone, nor do I particularly want to.”
I take a seat on the marble stairs and Wisp jumps onto my lap, pressing her head up against my chin. I pet her idly while I wait.
“Isolation cannot be abided. Not anymore,” I say. “I am done trying to keep others in ignorance at my own detriment. We all have reason to fight, and I shan’t stand in anyone’s way. No more secrets. No more lies. No more hiding.”
I craft a portal to Nepal, and Samaira stands there waiting with someone I do not expect.
“Rebekka.” I stand and Ksenia flanks me with her wand drawn.
“She is not a threat,” Samaira assures us. “She merely wishes to speak.”
Once they’ve both stepped through, Rebekka shifts nervously on her feet. She’s changed clothes but her hair is mussed and the scars on her neck are still visible.
“Please forgive me, Iona,” Rebekka says as she chokes back tears. “I promised her… I swore I would never hurt her… She must hate me…”
I reach out to take Rebekka’s hand, which is alarmingly cold and makes me worry for her loss of blood.
“There is nothing to forgive. It was not you.” I heal her scars and renew her stolen blood, feeling her palm heat against mine. “Ariadne learned of your innocence before she passed on.”
“She did?” Rebekka’s eyes glisten with tears. “Oh… Oh thank goodness.”
“What Moira did to you was shameful and she shall suffer greatly for it,” I promise.
Rebekka’s eyes widen for a moment, until her expression reflects her gratitude. “She could still use me to harm you. By rights, I should not be here.”
I know this, of course, and yet I cannot find it within myself to turn her away. I remember what it was like to be vulnerable to blood magic, the awful guilt and paranoia.
“Ariadne was your friend, too.” I look up into her sea green eyes. “I won’t prevent you from fighting for her.”
“Is that wise?” Ksenia asks, still eyeing Rebekka with mistrust.
“It shall be your responsibility to watch over her,” I decide. “If she shows any signs of blood magic, you will stop her before she can cause any harm to herself or others.”
“Why must I do it?” Ksenia gripes.
“Because I told you to,” I say with a glare.
She glares back, and for a moment I think she might protest, until she looks away. “Very well.”
The sound of wheels draws their attention down the road where a white carriage approaches. Before it can come to a full stop, Crescentia jumps out and runs to me, enveloping me in a fierce embrace.
She pulls away and asks, “Are you sure?”
“Are you?” I ask.
There’s a moment’s hesitation as a healthy amount of fear shadows her expression, but in the end, Crescentia nods with resounding fortitude. “She saved me once. I should like to return the favor.”
The smallest of smiles reaches my lips, but it is short lived when Nonna exits the carriage dressed in black with a veil obscuring her tear-streaked face.
Frankie helps her step down onto the cobblestoned street, his jovial smile missing, making him almost a stranger.
I go to speak, but Nonna puts up a hand to stop me.
“Apologies are pointless now, especially from you. They did this to her,” she says, her voice rough as gravel. “They betrayed their own kind and killed… they killed her…”
Frankie keeps a firm hold on Nonna’s arm to keep her from collapsing, her inconsolable sobs nearly inciting my own.
“She is not dead,” Frankie consoles her.
“Her soul is lost to us,” Nonna relents. “We can never see her on Samhain. We can never reach her when our time on Earth is ended. How could we ever hope to find her?”
“We shall,” I say with absolute certainty. “Wherever she may be, I will find her.”
Nonna grips my forearm and pulls me in close, leveling me with her stare through the gauze of her dark veil, and says, “I would follow you if my old bones would allow it, but it’s not to be.
I can only impart you with this; Eris is daughter to a primordial goddess with power as old as the universe.
We do not aim to oppose mere chaos in its purest form, but Night itself.
Katrin chose her patron well. Eris’s protection, and that of Nyx, will bolster Katrin’s claim to power.
You must know what it is you are up against. You mustn’t descend into the Underworld whilst blind to the danger you face, or Ariadne shall be truly lost forever and you with her. ”
“There is nothing…” I take a steadying breath. “Nothing that could keep me from her.”
I kneel on the dirty cobblestones with Wisp’s head resting in my lap, running my fingers through her dark fur, as I contemplate my chosen destiny. I’m calm, entirely sure of what I must do, even if the way may be obscured.
Far too often I’ve been confused, manipulated, disadvantaged, underestimated.
I was so preoccupied with keeping up appearances, acquiescing to others’ agendas and expectations, betraying myself for the sake of witches, or Gods, or fate.
I was so blind, but I’ve got nothing left to lose anymore, and knowing so liberates me.
Ariadne, my love. My everything. I shan’t forsake her as she’s always feared, for it would be like abandoning my own heart.
There is no life without her in it. Even if the journey kills me, even if it destroys all that’s left of me, I shall find her, and if I can, I shall bring her back.
She wished to be together in the light of day, and so we shall.
I admire the inferno of glass, wood, and stone, the sparks that twirl and flicker up towards the black sky devoid of stars.
With Nonna’s resounding consent, my fire turns the Villa Mitriora to smoldering rubble, and it is a small satisfaction to me.
A message to those who once inhabited its unhallowed halls.
Burning to ash all the malefician grimoires, the ritual room, and any other hidden atrocities secreted away.
An omen of what’s to come, though fate has no sway. Not anymore.
“Iona,” Samaira says.
Reluctantly, I turn away from the blaze to survey the faces of those who’ve decided to join me, despite my warnings.
Samaira, Crescentia, and Frankie are likely allies, their magic still preserved, not stolen away during the ritual massacre.
They’re huddled together a few paces away, watching me with increasing concern.
Samaira points down the street, her eyes wide.
Almost entirely obscured by darkness, Hecate stands there with otherworldly stillness, her red eyes gleaming, so familiar that it pains me to behold them.
Though I know a Goddess should not be kept waiting, I remain where I am.
I’m perhaps a bit too close to the gnawing fire, but I know this will likely be the last semblance of warmth I’ll encounter in the coming days, weeks, or months.
I let the heat envelop me; let it turn my freckled skin pink.
Rebekka stands apart in the cool shadows, her physical wounds healed, her haunted expression implying deeper scars made by Moira’s blood magic.
I relent the pain she’s endured, the guilt she harbors at knowing the harm she’s unwillingly caused.
May her remorse be alleviated by our impending retribution.
Ksenia paces to and fro, her impatience surpassing even mine.
She knows what lies before us. A descent into the deepest depths of the Underworld, an endless hellscape holding any number of unspeakable horrors, and should we succeed, we’ll only return here to defeat yet more devils that nip at our heels. She shows no fear, and neither do I.
The Zerynthos Coven will lament their schemes. They will regret what they’ve done to my beloved. I will not rest until every single one of them takes her place in the grave. If I cannot have peace, then I shall have justice. If I cannot have justice, then my vengeance will be won with blood.