Our own Eden
—EDEN
Part of me feels lighter than it ever has, but another part, the part waiting for the other shoe to drop, can’t stop thinking about Sage having visions of another woman.
When he came in from his talk with Therael, he looked hollowed out. He could barely keep his eyes open, not uttering a single word as he crawled into bed. His wings draped over the side of the mattress, and he studied every inch of my face until he finally fell into a deep sleep.
I want to join him, but my mind and heart are at war. A soft knock at the door pulls me out of my thoughts. I glance at Sage, still sleeping with one arm thrown over his eyes. I slip out of bed as quietly as I can, the floorboards warming beneath each of my footsteps.
I crack the door open, and Therael is standing there holding a small cloth bag in one hand.
“The tincture,” he says quietly.
My head tilts in confusion. “What is it supposed to do?”
“It will help him sleep.” His eyes flick past me, toward the bed where Sage is snoring softly. “When he wakes back up, his visions should ease. The headaches will stay away for a while.”
“For how long?”
He hesitates long enough to know he’s keeping something from me.
“As long as possible.”
“What do I do with this?”
“Sprinkle it over his face tonight while he’s asleep. You should notice a difference immediately.”
I take the bag from his palm. It’s heavier than it looks and smells both sweet and tranquil. “Use it anytime he gets another migraine.”
“Thank you for helping him,” I whisper. “Do you think he’s going to be okay?”
He nods once, his halo casting eerie shadows across the porch.
“He has you,” he says softly. “That’s more than he’s ever had before.”
The air around him begins to smell of turning leaves.
“Where do you go when you leave here?” I blurt out.
He pauses, and without looking back at me, he answers. “I return to a promise that does not survive the night.”
With a soft, wooshing sound, he’s gone. The porch is empty, and the air settles back into the stillness of dusk.
I step inside and swing the door closed when a huge hand cuts in at the last minute, barring the door. The wood groans under the pressure.
Behind me, Sage jolts awake.
“Eden—”
The door explodes outward, knocking the four figures off the porch.
“You mated her,” War says, his voice booming across the meadow. “So tell me, Reaper—”
His eyes lock on Sage. “—why didn’t the bond seal?”
The dust from the shattered door swirls in the moonlight.
Sage leaps in front of me. He throws his arm out and shoves me behind his back.
War takes a step onto the porch, and Sage’s wings snap open with a sickening sound.
The walls wail in warning.
“What—” War starts.
The porch boards spike upward between War and Sage in a splintered barrier. Nook hisses as Kaeran’s hands slam against them.
“Stand down, Reaper,” he growls. “We are not here to—”
“You should not be here at all,” Sage cuts him off, flickering between flesh and bone.
“We did not come to destroy your domestic bliss. We came because the tether did not snap. You claimed her. We all felt it, yet the bond is not sealed. Why?”
“What I did, or did not claim, is none of your concern.”
“It is my concern when it directly affects us finding our own mates. We need—”
“Need?” Ashán snarls, the left side of his face bleeding from green to vorí. “The only thing you need is to leave. Now.”
“We cannot.” War takes another step forward. Nook screams, and the barrier between him and Sage thickens with new layers of rough timber erupting from the ground. “Not until you tell us why—”
“I don’t know why,” Ashán snarls. “I have no other answers for you.”
Famine steps forward, and Nook allows him to pass. “Eden, do you know why?”
I want to give him an answer, but the truth is I’m new to all of this.
Sage has referred to me as his mate since I woke up, and if I’m honest, that was enough for me.
I’ve felt like his since the moment I heard his voice while I was under the glass.
I don’t need a special bond to tell me that we belong together.
“She doesn’t know either,” Ashán cuts in, pushing me further behind their back. “And if she did, attempting to break into our home is not the way to get an answer.”
“Silence.”
The single word cuts through the chaos. Everyone turns to look at the headless Horseman furthest from the porch.
“The reaper does not know. The girl does not know.” His blade appears from thin air like it did the night they lured me out into the meadow. “But someone does.”
Ashán’s wings flare wide. “If you’re implying—”
“Therael.”
“Therael would not—”
“Wouldn’t he?” Death’s shoulder tips as if tilting his head—if he had one. “He is the God of Tradition. Bonds are his domain. If yours is… incomplete. I’m sure he knows why.”
Ashán stands silently, studying him.
“We’ll pay him a visit.”
“No!” I shout. “He’s helping us. He wouldn’t hide something unless—”
“Unless it served him,” he finishes. “Gods may not lie, mortal. But they are very, very good at telling partial truths. Trust me.”
Sage’s vines slowly wrap around my ankle.
Rasen’s gaze hasn’t left me. “We’re not your enemies. We just want what you have—our own Eden.”
His words settle in my chest as I stare at him, and all I can see is hollow eyes that have seen centuries pass.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I am so sorry. I know this isn’t fair to you. You’re desperate to find your mates, and I can’t blame you for that. But Therael is the only one who has been here, checking on us, giving Sage lessons, helping him—”
“Helping?” War’s voice interrupts.
“He’s trying—”
“We do not have time for your feelings. Four Horsemen are standing on your lawn because your mate can’t finish what he started. So either he seals it now, or we find someone who can make him.”
Sage’s vines tighten around my ankle.
“Choose your next words carefully, Horseman.” Ashán’s voice is colder than I’ve ever heard it.
“Or what?” Kaeran’s bell tilts. “You will challenge me? You look like you are barely holding yourself together, Reaper.”
The house shrieks, windows bursting one by one.
Ashán slowly rolls his neck. “Try me.”
“Enough.”
Famine puts his hand on Kaeran’s chest.
“Kaeran,” he rasps, “stand down.”
“They’re hiding something—”
“And threatening his mate will not help reveal it.” Rasen’s pained gaze finds mine again. “Will it, Eden?”
I shake my head, swallowing around the lump in my throat.
“We don’t know why it hasn’t sealed. And if Therael knows any more than he’s told us, I trust that he has a good reason he’s staying silent about it.”
The headless Horseman raises a single hand. “You have three days, Reaper. Three days to discover whatever it is your God will not tell you. After that…”
He pulls on his reins without finishing his sentence. Kaeran’s shoulders tighten as he follows behind him. Pestilence silently slips out after them. Rasen lingers.
“I meant what I said, Eden.” His voice is barely a rasp. “We’re not your enemies. I hope you find your answers. Not only for us—but for yourself.”
The moment he joins the others, Nook exhales, tension bleeding from its walls. The porch stops trembling, and the door that was just shattered into a thousand pieces stands unblemished, as if they were never here at all.
Ashán’s wing collapses with a sickening crunch of bone. Sage’s vines go slack around my ankle, and he sinks to his knees.
“Ashán. Sage. What’s wrong?”
“Three days,” they murmur together, “Eden, we don’t even know where to start.”
I wrap my arms around him as tightly as I can.
Neither do I, Vaelí… neither do I.