Chapter 97
Mariah opened her eyes to blinding light.
She blinked, squinting. Her body tingled, energy thrumming in and all around her. She laid on something soft and springy, her fingers sinking into it as she sat up.
When her eyes finally adjusted to the brilliance of the light, she stilled.
She knew this place.
She’d been here before. It had looked different then—more ethereal and effervescent, like it was all made of clouds and dust and magic.
It was more solid now. More real. With a terrifying rush of memory, she knew why.
This was the gods’ plane.
And she was dead.
What she’d once thought were swaying stalks of light had solidified into statuesque vines. Their thin leaves mirrored the Marks on her hands—
But, of course, her hands in this place were bare.
The endless field stretched on and on, depthless as it raced toward the horizon. There was no sun or moon above, no twinkling stars, yet everything was bright and lit by a pulsing, cloudless haze.
She didn’t know how long she laid there, waiting, breathing, staring. Contemplating the reality of her existence, whatever future might be before her.
Most of all, she wondered why she was here. Maybe this is what it was like for everyone at the end. Just endless solitude and light and nothing.
Dread and sorrow had morphed into unending emptiness. Her last moments played through her mind on a repetitive loop, taunting and harrowing.
Matheo’s heart being pierced by a demon’s claw, his bond snuffing out, taking away his bright, happy future.
The terrible, sickening realization as she’d sank her dagger into Kol’s chest and known it hadn’t worked.
Andrian’s empty, raw, desperate pleas for her to stay. She’d wanted to listen. She’d wanted to give him whatever he needed, just so he could know he was deserving of whatever light was left in the world.
Ciana’s broken cries, back in the arms of her tormenters, headed toward a fate worse than death. The final embodiment of everything Mariah had failed to do, everything Kol had succeeded in taking from her.
Mariah deserved this. She did not mourn for her life. But everyone else?
It was her friends, her family, that made her want to keep fighting, even from this strange, magical place.
She ran her fingers over the glowing vines, wondering what kind of power they held and how she could use it, when something moved on that edgeless horizon.
Mariah’s spine straightened. She pushed to her feet as two figures materialized out of the thick, glowing light.
She knew them. One wrapped in gold, hair haloed with glimmering vines and flowers. The other shrouded in silver, bones woven into the lengths of her hair.
Qhohena and Zadione halted a few paces from her. Sad smiles pulled at their lips, regret and devastation lining every inch of their bodies.
Mariah was struck with how human they looked. Like all the trappings of godhood were washed away, revealing only the creatures of flesh beneath.
She swallowed—more out of habit than anything. She felt no pain here, no discomfort, none of those nuisances of mortality.
“I am dead.” She didn’t need to ask it as a question. She knew the answer already.
Zadione dipped her head in acknowledgment. “You are.”
“But I’m not where souls normally go when they die.” Again, not a question. Something told her that this eerie silence she felt was not a coincidence. She’d been tugged in a different direction, away from the path those who died normally took.
Qhohena shook her head. “No. You are not.”
Mariah’s gaze again ghosted around the eternal field. She dragged in a breath that tasted of nectar and honey.
“Did you know?” she asked quietly. The sister goddesses exchanged a confused glance.
“Did we know what?”
Her fight rose again in her chest. “The weapon,” she said, soft and steady. “The one you made. Did you know it wouldn’t work?”
Zadione’s eyes widened. Qhohena’s hand flew to her mouth, a gasp escaping her.
“Mariah,” Zadione said urgently. “What do you mean? Did you use it?”
“I did.” Mariah narrowed her eyes at the Goddess of Death. “I slid it between his third and fourth rib, right into his heart. And it didn’t work. It didn’t even draw blood. He tossed it at my feet with a laugh and then killed me for daring to try.”
The goddesses were silent, frozen with expressions of shock and horror.
“I swear to you, Mariah,” whispered Zadione. She looked younger than Mariah had ever seen her, something faintly familiar now haloing her appearance. “We didn’t know. We thought it would work. The spell…it should have worked.”
Qhohena, though, said nothing. Mariah slid her gaze to the golden goddess. The vines at her feet twined around her ankles, reaching up for her hands.
“Qhohena knows why it didn’t work. Don’t you, Golden Goddess?”
The Goddess of Life’s gaze snapped up. Shame and regret and sorrow shimmered in the gold, an eternity of secrets that were finally ready to be freed.
Zadione turned to her sister, eyes wide. “Hena,” she said. “You wouldn’t. It’s not true. The spell… It was yours.”
Qhohena didn’t acknowledge her. Only held Mariah’s stare, golden aura wavering.
“They will be here soon,” Qhohena murmured, the vines in her hair shimmering. “And only they can explain.”
They.
Fuck.
Their arrival started with a whisper of breath across the back of Mariah’s neck.
It strengthened into a typhoon, a writhing coil of power, an endless display of energy.
They exploded onto the plane, and what once felt limitless became so small and diminished.
No longer did the horizon stretch into oblivion.
It paled and shrank in comparison to the entity swallowing the sky, devouring and creating and ending and beginning.
Mariah met the thousand unblinking eyes of the Crieré. Their thousand feathered wings steadily beat the air, thumping like the heartbeat of an entire cosmos.
“Desperate Daughter,” they whispered—in her ears, in her mind. Their voice swam around and through her like an endless current. “So soon you have come to us.”
Mariah didn’t flinch. “I failed,” she said, voice clear and steady. “You told me I had to fail.”
“Indeed, we did,” the voice said. “Though we did not mean like this.”
“Then what did you mean?” Mariah ground her teeth. “I died. I’m not sure how much more deeply I could have failed.”
Qhohena flinched at Mariah’s biting tone. Zadione still gaped at her sister, disbelief marring her flawless features.
“Death means little to us,” the Crieré said. “You come and you go, but we remain. We always remain.”
“Then why not just let me pass on? Why pull me here instead?”
“How do you know this is not all that awaits beyond death?”
Mariah glanced sharply at Zadione. The goddess finally turned away from Qhohena, her disbelief now giving way to barely contained fury. Her silver eyes flashed when they met Mariah’s, as if confirming what Mariah had already suspected.
The Crieré were trying to mislead her. Mariah had been brought here, against the natural order of things, and the goddesses knew why.
The Crieré bobbed, releasing a sound almost like a sigh. “Some knowledge is too vast for even those elevated to comprehend,” they whispered. “But… Your question is a fair one. We did pull you here. Because you are the gift we were promised, and it would be difficult to start anew. Even for us.”
All thousand eyes blinked as one.
“You failed, yes. But still, you are not ready. That is something even we did not foresee.”
All thousand eyes narrowed.
“So now, we must ask: what will we do with you?”
Zadione’s head snapped up. “Wait—”
Her words were too late.
The Crieré pulled in their wings. The universe drew in a breath, a sticky sense of anticipation. Light dancing in opalescent, rainbow hues splintered around their form, fracturing the sky and the ground and the entire plane.
With a thunderous crack, the Crieré released their power. It shot toward Mariah like a bolt, swallowing her with a blistering boom.
Her spirit—whatever was left of it—swelled in agony. It burned, it burned, it burned, gods make it stop, she just wanted this pain to stop.
Another crack, and
then
nothing.
To be continued…