2 #3
Not that she’d been callous enough to send me straight into another skirmish.
She gave me tasks I could complete at home as I healed.
For months, while I’ve learned to live in a changed body, I’d penned missives and conscriptions, drawing others bound to Morrigan by blood and under her protection into her ranks.
I knew she wouldn’t let me sit at home forever. I just didn’t expect to be called back today.
Would I ever have expected it? Or been ready?
Probably not.
A raven’s beak peeks from the goddess’s dark tresses as she looks from the sea back to us. Niall straightens at the sight, clasping his hands behind his back.
I fight a smile. She’s always unsettled him.
Morrigan’s lips are gray, the same hue trapped in the bulbous clouds straining over our heads.
Her skin is so pale it’s translucent, revealing intersecting veins of silver-gold ichor beneath.
She studies me like she can’t quite understand how I can muster a smile given our current predicament.
Or maybe it’s that I smile at all. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen one grace her lips.
I wish she would go ahead and reveal why we’re here. Tear the bandage from whatever wound she’s already made.
It’s never a good thing when a mortal is called to stand before a god or goddess. There’s usually an atonement required or punishment meted.
“The two of you have been nominated,” she crisply informs us. Her voice changes on the last word, echoing like a thousand trapped souls are speaking through her. It sends a shiver up my spine, finally erasing the pleased smirk I’ve been wearing.
This time when Niall shifts his weight beside me, I find no pleasure watching him squirm because now my skin is crawling, too.
“Nominated for what?” I finally ask.
Her focus snaps to me and her voice returns to its singular sharpness. “You’re going to Olympus.”
My heart stops.
The only thing awaiting me there is certain death.
“Why?” I manage.
She takes an immortally fast, aggressive step toward me, raven wings unfurling from either side of her silken, sable hair as she puts her face in mine. “Because I will it.”
I swallow thickly, thinking of what to say to quell her irritation. “I’m not questioning your order, goddess; merely wondering what you’d have us do once we enter the city of stone.”
She stares at me for a long moment, nostrils flaring like she can smell the fear wafting from my frame. “Further instructions await you there, Callalie Ryan.” She turns to Niall and I watch as her upper lip curls. “And Niall Kelly.”
He inclines his head to her. “My will is yours, goddess.”
His submission, much to his chagrin, does not endear him to her. His shoulders sink when she dismisses him and turns to face me again. “I’ll send an artisan there to restore your leg.”
I nod. “Thank you.”
We’re all at the mercy of the gods, but if there’s one I respect more than all the rest, it’s Morrigan.
Morrigan taught me how to fight. She showed me what my strengths were when I thought I was weak.
When she calls her people into battle, she leads them, fights beside them, and ushers their souls into the dark hereafter when they fall.
And sometimes she intervenes, stopping a fatal blow from landing.
Sometimes she carries the dying to her healers. She did that for me.
Beyond that kindness, Morrigan appeared in Olympus the moment she felt Carina’s soul cry out. She stood watch as Cillian and I collected her body, and when I wasn’t strong enough to carry her any farther once we got her back to the desert, Morrigan did.
She guarded our home as we buried her. And for weeks after. Maybe longer. Those days were a blur.
She was the one who took my sister’s spirit into the eternal meadows where she’s safe, resting and roaming and waiting for my soul to reach hers. So if she wants me to go to Olympus, I’ll go. Even though I know he’ll be waiting for me there.
As if she read my thoughts of Ares, she leans in close to speak so only I can hear her. “You’re still the girl who drew her sword and fought him that day.”
My ribs clench when I remember the violent feel of our clashing steel.
Yes, I was that girl. The fool who didn’t consider the repercussions and didn’t stand a chance then any more than I will the next time I face him – sword in hand or none.
“And lost,” I remind her.
“Are you quite certain?” Morrigan questions. “He doesn’t bother remembering the names of many mortals, Callalie, but he knows yours. It haunts him. You haunt him.”
A knot of emotion swells in my throat.
Morrigan imparts one last piece of wisdom. “When you face him, don’t reward him with your fear.”
When. Not if…
The roaring wind doesn’t toy with the delicate fabric of the dark gown she wears. It doesn’t dare to lift a hair on her sable head.
She shifts into a raven, flaps her powerful wings, and soars off the cliffside over the churning sea. The screech she bellows as she circles overhead rivals the one my knee makes as I turn and walk to the portal at the bottom of the hill, the great golden slab that will carry me into Olympus.
To Ares.